#writing a book about a serious topic while completely knowing nothing about anything ever

[stamplr]

yeah reading the books is so hella uncomfortable...

A list of fetishes I suspect diehl has:

red hair green eyes (courtesy 90 gigabytes)

noncon

minors

young boys

objectifying women

minors

Secretaries/women with white collar jobs

Did i mention minors?

[kunikinnie]

Hi!

I love your writing, they are so sweet and in character.

Could I request a fic with Poe where the reader (not neceserally in a realationship yet) reads one of his books, and after finishing it he gives it back and inside there are a bunch of pieces of papers full of illustrations/fanarts of the book?

If you don't want to write it or you don't have time, that's okay too. Don't owerwork yourself. Have a nice day!

a/n: thIS IS SO SWEET omg I remember when @amenemisa drew a Kunikida based on one of my drabbles adfjaldfkja anw here's some pure fluff!!

note: GN!reader is NOT in a relationship yet

There was nothing special about a nervous and restless Poe pacing around his room for God knows how long. Anything and everything that could potentially trouble him could trigger such a reaction, although lately the list has been significantly reduced to only two topics - namely, his writings and his crush.

That is why in this current episode, his anxiety has unfortunately doubled in magnitude.

A few weeks ago, you had shown interest in reading one of his very own works (not that it was a rare occurrence - in fact you've repeated yourself dozens of times) and were about to return his book and share your thoughts on it.

Both the panic and excitement were so intense that Poe thought he'd literally split into two different people: the serious writer and the hopeless romantic. The former was ready to brood over possible criticism while the other was simply happy to see you in person again. The only thing the two halves could agree on was the stress from receiving anything, let alone a review on his work from you.

A servant knocked on his door and announced that a guest had arrived, but before he could mention the identity of the person Poe had already scurried to the receiving room.

"Can't believe you had your decor changed just for Y/N..."

Instead of you, a nonchalant young man surveying the room was comfortably lying on the couch.

"It's good to see you, Ranpo-kun," Poe genuinely gladly greeted him. "But what are you doing here now, of all times?"

"Yeah, about that..." He sat up and handed over a familiar leather-bound hardcover book. "Something came up so Y/N asked me to bring this to you. The review's inside."

All the fire from until that moment's fervor had been dampened with a mere few words. Still, just holding the physical manifestation of your thoughts prevented from the disappointment from setting in completely.

He opened the book to where not one, but a few sheets of loose paper were stuck in between. Upon noticing that some of the papers did not contain words, he frantically looked for the one that did explain or summarize whatever you wanted to say. It was a small sticky note at the back of the front cover.

I really enjoyed this! Couldn't help myself so I hope you don't mind :)

That alone tugged a small but stupid smile on his face. However, further examination of the other papers nearly made his heart burst.

The characters, key moments were familiar... was this fanart of his work...? Drawings? For his work? No one has ever done this before...

"Looks like you'll need more that a moment so I'll just go straight to your game- wait, don't cry on my cape! I just washed it!"

tagging: @stygianoir

[perpetuallyexhaustedpeacock]

Good Omens Episode 3

I still don’t know why y’all are interested in this, but it’s more popular than anything I’ve ever posted before (including meticulously crafted DND stories and no im not bitter about that who’s bitter I’m not bitter you’re bitter) so I guess I’ll just...keep going?

Oh, and we’re back to the Garden of Eden. What’s he doing with that rock- oh look it’s God

Ah, this is presumably Noah’s Ark. Ok, but the thing is (here I go on a literary rant)- all civilizations who have recorded history have some sort of a flood myth/story! It’s everywhere- I really do think that at some point there was a massive flood that reached...possibly everywhere, I’m not too familiar with Native American mythology, but presumably Asia and Europe. 

“As a promise not to...do it again.” “How kind” Crowley’s sass is l e g e n d a r y

wOW I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT OK I JUST GOT OUT OF HOLY WEEK 

that was...a lot more graphic than I was expecting. I mean, you hear the hymns, everything, I even cried on Holy Thursday and couldn’t keep singing but I’ve never seen...

“What else am I gonna be, an aardvark?” Ok but does this mean Aziraphel was hoping that Crowley could be redeemed

these boys are SO dramatic- how old are they, 12?

burbage was absoLUTELY flirting with Crowley also why does it feel like Aziraphel knows nothing about plays? I mean “I love all the...talking...” it’s called a MONOLOGUE you silly angel

Hah so this is the Arrangement I’ve heard/read so much about. Ohhh Aziraphel’s so worried about Crowley! How did it take him until the literal end of the world to figure out he liked Crowley?

Ah, Paris. I’ve been waiting for this. Dude is so OBVIOUSLY waiting for Crowley-

Oh, Crowley froze time, didn’t he? Zira’s face just lit up like a candle how is he THIS OBLIVIOUS

I mean...do I feel bad for Jean-Claude or not? How did those soldiers not recognize him?

“I like pears” oh stay on topic Zira. Also, did anyone else get flashbacks to the Doctor’s hate of pears when they were talking about this?

...even though I knew this fight was coming and could practically recite it word-for-word it still h u r t

Ah. 1941. That’s a lot of lit candles for a church with two people in it...and those do NOT look secure. Even if that church didn’t blow up it probably would’ve burned to the ground sooner rather than later.

Whoa- triple crossing

They’re making light conversation while someone points a gun at them- never change, boys. never change. 

his fACE HE- gAH THESE BOYS

Also Crowley sounds so cool and suave but I would bet all the money in my purse that he rehearsed what he was going to say beforehand- probably in front of a mirror

wait, shadwell- shadwell- oh im STUPID ITS

im not even going to finish that sentence

Zira’s so scared and my heart is breaking 

we’re halfway through the episode and NOW the title sequence starts. It still doesn’t make any sense but at this point I’m just here for the music- oh and that epic thing they do at the end where the letters unfold to say “Good Omens”

I’m still in love with Dog. He’s the best thing ever and I want to hug him. 

Ok Adam is also completely precious. His book sounds exactly like something an 11-year-old would write. 

Ooooh Shadwell and Crowley still keep in touch- and Shadwell thinks Crowley’s the son of the man he met in... what was it, 1960? It’s been less than 10 minutes and I already can’t remember

I bet Anathema’s ranting about the world is going to shape what happens in Armageddon 

Adam’s been manipulating the weather in Tadfield for years, hasn’t he. White Christmas...

Are you serious both Crowley and Zira have been sponsoring the Witchfinder’s Army? 

Chow™

b o y s  you cannot do this to my h e a r t

Adam got rid of nuclear power in his sleep and replaced it with a sherbet lemon. wow. 

Well, that’s the end of episode 3- you know, I’m really enjoying this, more than I thought I would. I know the plot, yeah, but there’s so much I didn’t know and can still be surprised by. Next post might come out tomorrow or Sunday, or it might not...I’ve got a lot of editing to do. 

[bananonbinary]

Time for a Salty Meta Post about Martin!

people who’ve followed this blog for a bit know that spending six hours combing through text for some goddamn sources is my specialty, so i compiled every time jon ever talked about martin’s work in season 1. which for the record, he stopped complaining about all the way back in episode 26, where he was angry that martin of all people got hurt.

things jon gets mad at martin for:

not being able to find records that don’t exist

not being able to find someone based only on a first name

the Dog

not wearing trousers in his off-hours

being the one that got caught up in the jane prentiss thing

mag 004 and mag 012 both have jon taking potshots at martin over research that was proven accurate by outside sources

things jon has never once complained about:

martin not understanding the filing system and just putting stuff away at random

martin being clumsy, constantly ruining things, spilling tea everywhere everyday, etc

martin turning in incompetent, poorly-edited, or badly formatted reports

martin not understanding the terminology used, skills expected, etc., and generally being extremely new to the field

please for the love of god stop making martin the silly bumbling idiot who can’t do anything right just because he doesn’t have a formal education. there’s zero evidence for it in the text, and it’s really weird to act like a 4 year degree would outweigh the *10 years* of job experience he has, not just in academia, but in the institute itself by season one. my boy has worked there longer than ANY of the rest of the main cast. screw you guys.

tl;dr: martin is never once shown to be bad at his job, jon pretty much only ever gets mad at him for the really stupid first impression and also not finding stuff that no one else was able to find either. after martin got hurt, jon talks about his research basically the same way he talks about tim’s or sasha’s work.

fucking proof under the cut:

(i didnt include the s1 finale or martin’s statement bc that’s just...two entire episodes of them talking to each other, but there isn’t really any notable Martin Complaints in either of them imo)

I swear, if he’s brought another dog in here, I’m going to peel him.

[pre-launch trailer]

.

Well, technically three, but I don’t count Martin as he’s unlikely to contribute anything but delays.

[...] Alongside this Tim, Sasha and, yes, I suppose, Martin will be doing some supplementary investigation to see what details may be missing from what we have.

[MAG001 Anglerfish]

.

Martin couldn’t find any records of Ex Altiora as a title in existent catalogues of esoteric or similar literature, so I assigned Sasha to double-check. Still nothing.

[MAG004 Pageturner]

.

I had Martin conduct a follow-up interview with Mr. Woodward last week, but it was unenlightening. Apparently there have been no further bags at number 93 and in the intervening years he has largely discounted many of the stranger aspects of his experience. I wasn’t expecting much, as time generally makes people inclined to forget what they would rather not believe, but at least it got Martin out of the Institute for an afternoon, which is always a welcome relief.

[MAG005 Thrown Away]

.

Martin was unable to find the exact date the original house was built but the earliest records he could find list it as being bought by Walter Fielding in 1891.

[...]

We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree.

[MAG008 Burned Out]

.

According to Martin, who was here when they took this statement, it was at this point in writing that Mr. Herbert announced he needed some sleep before continuing. He was shown to the break room where he went to sleep on the couch. He did not awaken; unfortunately succumbing to the lung cancer right there. Martin says the staff had been aware of how serious Mr. Herbert’s condition was, and had advised him to seek medical aid prior to giving his statement, but were told rather bluntly by the old man that he would not wait another second to state his case. I can’t decide whether this lends more or less credibility to his tale.

[MAG010 Vampire Killer]

.

“Veepalach” might also be a mishearing of the Polish word “wypalać”, according to Martin, which means to cauterize or brand. Admittedly, if Martin speaks Polish in the same way he “speaks Latin,” then he might be talking nonsense again, but I’ve looked it up and it appears to check out.

[MAG012 First Aid]

.

I sent Martin to look into this ‘Angela’ character - not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to. Apparently, he spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.

[MAG014 Piecemeal]

.

Martin declined to help with this investigation as he’s “a bit claustrophobic”

[MAG015 Lost John’s Cave]

.

There simply aren’t enough details given in this statement to actually investigate, short of Martin confirming that Mr. Vittery did indeed live at the addresses he provided.

[MAG016 Arachnophobia]

.

Oh, he’s off sick this week. Stomach problems, I think.

Blessed relief if you ask me.

[...]

I asked Martin to try and hunt down Mr. Adekoya himself for a follow-up, but have been informed that he passed away in 2006. 

[MAG017 The Boneturner’s Tale]

.

MARTIN

Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you?

ARCHIVIST

…

That is beside the point.

[MAG022 Colony]

.

Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the Archives, at least have the decency to put some trousers on!

[MAG023 Schwartzwald]

.

Martin found one other thing while combing through police reports for the Hither Green area. About a month after this statement was given, on May 15th, 2015, police were called out to once again investigate the chapel.

[MAG025 Growing Dark]

.

I know, but it would have to have been Martin, wouldn’t it? I mean, anything goes wrong around here, it always seems to happen to him. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Why didn’t you report this?

[MAG026 A Distortion]

.

Martin made contact with the son, Marcus McKenzie, but he declined to talk to us, saying that he’d “already made his statement.”

[MAG027 A Sturdy Lock]

.

Tim and Martin had a bit more luck investigating Tom Haan, though only really enough to confirm that he seems to have completely vanished following his departure from Aver Meats on the 12th of July.

[MAG030 Killing Floor]

.

Martin’s research would seem to indicate the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books

[...]

TIM

Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh! Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it?

ARCHIVIST

No, he… Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk drawer, hold on.

[MAG036 Taken Ill]

[thefanficmonster]

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

                                                              *  *  *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment. 

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible. 

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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[calaofnoldor]

Drug of Choice

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 3,790

Summary: A night of drunken rambling leads to an unexpected change in your relationship status.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol, feelings of inadequacy, very slight allusions of alcoholism/talk of drug addiction, reader likes the sound of their voice a bit too much when drunk, fluff, implied smut

A/N: written for @deanwanddamons 1st blogiversary and 2k follower celebration challenge! my prompt was “I wish I knew how to quit you“ which is bolded in the fic. congrats on the incredible milestone, sorry this is late! also for @spnfluffbingo and it fills the mood board square for @girl-next-door-writes‘ Make Me Feel Bingo challenge!

Square Filled: Kissed to Keep Quiet

MASTERLIST

It was four in the morning when Dean finally came home, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat before you atop the library table was over a quarter of the way through.

The heavy thud of his boots against the bunker floor drew your dark-adjusted eyes toward his shadowy figure, while the alcohol in your bloodstream loosened your lips, "How was she?"

"Jesus- Fuck!" There was a slight commotion before the lights flickered on, forcing your eyes to shut against the onslaught of sudden brightness. "Y/N??” Dean’s gruff, alarmed voice shattered the previously eerie silence, “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark by yourself?"

Your eyelids lifted an experimental sliver but you kept your gaze directed down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. "It wasn't dark when I started."

Dean narrowed his eyes when he noticed the slur behind your words. "Started what? Are you drunk?"

His second question prompted a dismissive snort from you, "Hunters can't get drunk; you should know that by now, Dean."

"Yeah alright, we need to get you to bed." The man of your dreams began to make his way over to you until your gravelly words ceased his steps.

"I can't sleep... you haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"How was she?"

"Who?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, "You know, the girl from the bar, the one with the curly hair… the one that was climbing onto your lap when I left?"

"I don't- there was no girl," Dean stumbled. His lips were parted and his eyebrows pulled together in an ever-gorgeous expression of bewilderment, but you were too busy examining the way the newfound light danced along the lustrous amber liquid between your fingers to notice.

"Oh," you grumbled in response, sounding a bit disappointed, which only served to deepen those adorable lines of confusion between Dean’s brows. "She sure was pretty though.” There was a pause as you pondered his declaration before blurting out in disbelief, “You really didn't fuck her in the back of Baby?"

"What- No! Y/N, there was never a girl and nothing happened, OK?" He sounded genuinely serious, so you conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"Why- why are you sorry?"

"I know you needed to blow off some steam after today, after I pissed you off by fucking up the hunt." You ventured a glance up at him through your lashes and the unadulterated pain in your eyes almost had Dean reeling back in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You didn't 'fuck up' the hunt," he argued, shaking his head as if to accentuate his point.

"Course I did. I got you hurt and I nearly let that dickbag get away."

A weighted sigh escaped Dean, "Y/N, you have to know that wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing for me. Besides, I wasn’t pissed off, I was... I was scared, OK?”

You were about to take another sip of your drug of the night when you lowered your glass to let the irrepressible giggle leave your system, “Scared? Since when does the big bad Dean Winchester get scared? And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking about it out loud. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

“I mean, I have been drinking but that’s beside the point. Look, Y/N, why don’t we talk about this tomorrow, alright? You’ve just gotta sleep this off.”

"Pft. This isn't something I can just sleep off. Trust me, I've tried." There was a tickle in your throat that alerted you of the oncoming word vomit, but your friend Mr. Daniels seemed to be gaining complete control of your tongue; it was all he was ever good for really, “I’ve also tried drinking it away, but clearly that doesn’t work either. There’s just- so much- of it, of you… and now, now you’re in me-“ Dean’s eyes went wide but you were no longer at liberty to stop, “and I can’t get you out. Sometimes I don’t even think I want to. But I don’t think I can keep going like this any longer either… all this waiting, and wondering, and watching.” Some fragment of sobriety within you recognized how ridiculous and melodramatic you sounded and it gave you enough sense to avoid eye contact with the subject of you’re alcohol-induced speech, as if that could help you elude further embarrassment.

“OK, you’ve gotta slow down, Y/N/N. What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, Dean had moved to take the seat across from you, subtly sliding the bottle of Jack out of your reach as he sat down.

A mirthless laugh was your reply, "Of course you don’t know. Why would you?“

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, what’s going on?”

But you ignored his questions and answered with one of your own, “Why am I never enough? You know what, don't answer that; that was a rhetor- rhetor…”

“Rhetorical?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, flailing your index finger in his direction, “Yes, that’s the word. See, even your brain is too good for me.”

“What- why would you say that? Y/N, you know that’s not true. And why do you think you’re never enough? You’re plenty enough.” Concern now painted Dean’s features. He hated seeing you this way, broken and depressed, trying to drown your feelings in whiskey; he’d figured that was his trademark amongst the bunker residents. And he couldn’t understand how someone as incredible as you would think themselves unworthy of anything. Whichever son of a bitch made you feel this way would pay, Dean swore it.

“Then how come you never pick me?” you countered simply, deciding it was finally time to call out his hypocrisy.

The accusation floored Dean. He scooted back in his seat as he stared at you with a slack jaw, utter perplexity swirling within his emerald eyes. Over the years, Dean had garnered an inkling that you felt some kinda way about him, but he never really let himself believe, and not once did he think he could be hurting you. On the contrary, he always figured it was his own hopeful heart playing tricks on him. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was hearing you correctly, or that your drunken state could be trusted, though he remembered you once told him that you were always the most honest version of yourself when you drank, whiskey in particular.

“I watch you go out with waitress after bartender after waitress, but I’ve been here the whole time, and you never consider me. It’s like I don’t even exist, like I’m not even an option, like I could never even help you scratch that itch, at least not as good as any barfly across the Midwest could.” You were aware that this was getting out of hand, but you couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “But that’s not even the real problem – I mean, sure, a roll around the hay with you would probably be mind-blowing as fuck – but it would never solve the root of it, never be enough for me.”

Dean had been studying you meticulously as you spoke, your words starting a fire to the embers of his soul, breathing life into a long-forgotten hope that brought him both joy and fear. “What would? Be enough for you, I mean?” His tone took on a raw sultriness that matched the intense, borderline predatory glaze of his eyes. Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected your sardonic laughter to fill the air, and your sudden frenzied, carefree state certainly took him off guard.

“Nothing!” you laughed, “I don’t think anything will ever be enough for me! C-cause you’re like this drug that I’m hooked on and it’s just so fucking hard to get off… I mean, it’s also hard to get off without you now, or thoughts of you anyway...” Your tangent was quickly overcome when you remembered the topic of your initial spiel, “But it’s like everything about you draws me in! From the way you reference classic literature even though I’ve never seen you pick up a book that’s not about lore, to the way you rebuild Baby from scratch like it’s no big deal, to the way you’re so good with kids even though you never got to be one yourself, to the dumb way you bottle up all your feelings and never let them see the light of day yet still manage to do so much good in the world, t-to the way you get excited over classic rock and crappy horror movies and pie, and don’t even get me started on the way you love Sam! I mean, it’s just all of it! It’s your strength and perseverance through literal hell, it’s your huge fucking heart despite the mask of swagger and charm, it’s that stupid grin you get when you make a dumb joke and Sam rolls his eyes at you, it’s just those god damn lips in general! And then you walk around looking like that!?” you gestured wildly at all of him, “I mean, who gave you the right?!”

Dean looked like he was about to respond, but you cut him off. There really was no stopping your tirade now, “I’m like an addict who can never get enough, and when you leave, I get feelings of withdrawal, and I don’t know how to fucking deal with those either… You’re so deeply ingrained in me; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flush you out of my system. And I just-“ you took a rare pause to heave a large breath before admitting quietly, “I wish I knew how to quit you. I really do, because as much as I love you, and trust me, it’s a whole fucking lot – God, does it feel good to finally say that out loud – but for every ounce of love that I have for you, for every bit of you that I’ve inhaled, it hurts just as much. Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will, and I don’t blame you, because you’re Dean fucking Winchester and you could have whoever you want with just a wink and half a smile, and you deserve to have whoever you want-”

“Are you done?” Dean was quick to latch onto the brief respite in your monologue, “Fuck, Y/N, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you are to me?” His head shook in disbelief while his troubled green eyes searched yours.

“What I am to you? I’m your hunting buddy, Dean. The one you call when you need an extra hand with a vamp nest or an extra set of eyes to scour the books, the one who stays up with you when you have nightmares about the souls you tortured in hell, the one you sing rock songs out of tune in the car with, just never the one you go to for a booty call,” you finished with a bitter laugh.

Dean’s head had never ceased it’s shaking, even as he got up and walked around the table towards you. “Only because you’re worth so much more than that. Y/N, you deserve so much more than me.”

It was your turn to shake your head. How typical, you thought as you rolled your eyes and stood up to meet his eye line, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean. I know you’re trying to let me down easy and that’s nice of you and all, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well, Dean Winchester, and I know there’s no way in hell that- Mmf!“ The rest of your words were intercepted by Dean’s lips on yours.

The feeling was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. There was an urgent force behind the kiss as he pushed his mouth against yours with gentle yet firm ferocity, bracing your head with large hands cupping both sides. It felt as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to you, to disprove your woeful words of self-pity, or perhaps he just wanted you to shut up. You, of course, responded with tremendous enthusiasm regardless of his intent, grasping blindly at his forearms while slotting your tongue and lips around his in an increasingly frantic manner. You didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t good for him; this might be your only chance to take what you need from Dean Winchester, if only a tiny fraction of it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting for air. Dean still held your head in both hands as he leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that; you’re drunk... Do you at least believe me now?”

A slight grimace contorted Dean’s features as his mind was suddenly bombarded by a multitude of conflicted thoughts and feelings, feelings of desire and regret and bliss and unease, but when he caught the dazed look in your eyes, Dean made up his mind, “Ah, what the hell, you’re probably not gonna remember much of this anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re wrong. I do feel the same way about you; I have pretty much ever since I saw that magnificent ass of yours.” Pausing to chuckle at his own words, Dean licked his lips, still able to taste the whiskey from yours.

“The only reason I fucked around with those other people was because I couldn’t stand not being able to have you,” he continued through closed eyes and gritted teeth before filling his chest with a deep breath, “Like today, when I saw that fucking werewolf come at you, I nearly lost it. The thought of anything happening to you scares me shitless, and I didn’t know how to process that feeling, so I let that girl at the bar get close. I was trying to fill the hole you created but it was pointless cause in the end, just like every other time, I couldn’t go through with it. Every time I try to forget about you, your face shows up in my head,” he growled in that low, throaty tone that always seemed to reverberate down to your nether regions.

“But I- I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve more than me. Y/N, you know me. I’m a broken, twisted, shell of a man. I’m-“

“Poison, I know,” you finally lifted your head away from his so that you could look directly into his dazzling eyes. Dean’s hands slid down along your neck and landed on your shoulders while yours remained on his forearms, not willing to lose all contact. “I know what you’re gonna say. You think you’re poison, that being with you puts a target on my back, that loving you is a death sentence… Did I get that right?”

Dean gave you a miniscule nod and a look of resignation as he reluctantly released you from his hold, forcing you to let go as well when he took a large step back. You suddenly felt extremely sober, the effects of the alcohol and that kiss all wearing off instantaneously, “And you hate yourself. No one hates you more than you, Dean.” Your voice was hardly a whisper now, “But that’s OK, cause I hate myself too, for never being able to make you realize that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, that you deserve all the things you think you can’t have, that you can have them all and still be Dean Winchester.”

You watched as Dean’s eyes began to water and when a single tear rolled down his cheek, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Approaching him as slowly as you would a nervous animal out of its natural habitat, you stopped directly before him before cautiously raising your arm to wipe the offending tear away with your thumb. Your eyes seemed to be locked in a silent exchange of colossal magnitude, expressing everything mere words could not, from harrowing regret to agonizing self-inflicted torment to desperate desire. It was the yearning in his shimmering eyes that gave you the courage to speak your next words, a runaway tear of your own joining the whispered plea, “Please, let me show you.”

When your eyes fluttered open the next day, they were greeted with the most beautiful sight you'd ever awoken to. Dean’s face was barely a foot away from yours, and the man himself was already awake, staring directly at you. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards you, while your body was twisted to face his. A bedside lamp was on, allowing you to marvel at the breathtaking perfection in front of you, and despite the booze having long since evacuated from your veins, your mouth still imparted the first thing that came to your mind, “You know, I've always wanted to count your freckles,” you murmured honestly, “Maybe map them out like tiny constellations so I can memorize them better, so that one day I could trace them even with my eyes closed.” Your fingertips moved of their own accord as you spoke, gliding softly over his cheeks and across the ridge of his perfect nose.

Dean caught your hand in his and kissed it repeatedly as his magical olive eyes continued to bore into yours, never once leaving your face. His pouty lips curved into the slightest smile as if he were afraid to rear hope yet couldn't fight the peaceful thrill you were bringing him by simply lying next to him. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“Not unless it counts to be drunk on you… Sorry, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” You cringed but Dean’s smile broadened.

“And no hangover?”

“No, I told you, hunters can’t-“

“Get drunk. Yeah, I heard. So does that mean you remember everything?”

“I don’t think I could forget that kiss if I wanted to; my brain wouldn’t let me.” You glanced down at his gorgeous mouth before meeting his gaze again, “I meant it all, you know? Everything I said was the truth. Every word.” You moved your thumb to graze his lower lip and he puckered his lips to kiss it.

“So did I, every word… Especially the part about that sweet ass of yours.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours roamed down to grab at your butt cheek with a hefty yet tender squeeze, causing you to squeal in delight. When you settled down, he moved your hand to place it above his heart, “You know I’m no good at chick flick moments, but you can trust me when I say I’m addicted to you too.”

The sincerity in his voice sent butterflies through your stomach and your smile felt invincible. “I hope you know that when I called you a ‘drug’ I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Some drugs are good for you. Some drugs can save your life,” you whispered as you fisted lightly at the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you did yesterday?” Dean was about to retort but you sent him a raised brow and a look that said ‘don’t test me, I’ve got loads more evidence where that came from’ so he simply looked down with a small grin. “Does it still hurt?” You motioned to the white bandage on his shoulder where the werewolf had scratched him up yesterday when he jumped in front of you.

Dean shook his head, “Right now I can hardly feel it. Actually, it hasn’t hurt at all since I kissed you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted some more at his words. “See, that’s what I mean. To me, you’re like coffee on an early morning, morphine when I’m hurting, tranquilizers when I’m freaking out, Zoloft when the world’s got me down, mixed with a shot of ecstasy, and quite possibly the most potent form of Viagra known to mankind.” You might have lingered a moment to chuckle at your own joke, thinking ‘it’s funny cause it’s true’. Dean belted a guffaw himself and you were quite pleased as you continued, “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, all wrapped up in one beautiful, self-loathing man.” You stroked his stubbled jaw and caressed his cheek, letting your words waft softly across the distance between you, hoping he could sense the veracity within them, “And I just want you to let me love you, let me get high on you, so I can show you how good you are. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A wave a sadness flowed through Dean and he lowered his gaze from yours. “This could end bloody.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But it’s so much better than the alternative... It was getting a bit too hard to bear, even if you were only eye fucking all those other suitors. Besides, if it means I get to kiss you whenever I want, it’ll be worth it. And if it means I get a chance to prove to you how worthy you are, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“I was only staying away because I wanted to protect you from me, but I didn’t realize it was hurting you. I never wanted to cause you pain; Y/N, I need you to know that.” Dean’s warm, calloused palm ran up your arm, it’s gentleness in stark contrast to his fierce tone, while yours continued to cup his cheek.

Astounded by the passion behind his words and the utter beauty of his face, you whispered in awe, “How are you so perfect?” Seeing the cogs begin to turn in his brain, you quickly moved your index finger to press against his plush lips, “Shh, just let me say it. Baby steps, Dean.”

He took your finger and guided your arm to wrap around his wide shoulders, careful of his injury, then reached out to pull you snugly towards him until your bodies were completely flush, your chest heaving against his. “Well do we have to take baby steps with everything? Cause now that I’ve finally got you in my bed, I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you for a spin in it. Maybe find out if it’s really – how did you put it again? – ‘mind blowing as fuck’ I believe were your words?” That signature smirk of his that always brought you to your knees came out to play.

Your laughter fanned across his face, and the smile on your face was effervescent, “You really are one hell of a drug, Dean Winchester.”

thank you for reading! as always, feedback is marvelously appreciated!

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[thedancefloorsilly]

hi! first of all, i love your blog, second of all - can you please write like a scenario where the reader is pregnant with Feitan and then she tells him, like what would his reaction be? ty <3

AWW thank you so much <33 !! Ooooh this would be a good scenario to write out, your wish is my command 😌 I don’t write scenarios that often so this is kinda like good practice lol. Hope I don’t disappoint !

Word Count: 1.2K

Warning: Pregnancy Mention

It was a quiet Sunday evening. Your boyfriend, Feitan, sat in the middle of the couch while your body laid against the arm of the sofa with your legs on top of him. You were snuggled in the fuzzy blanket that wrapped over your body, staring out at the T.V. while watching the movie Feitan picked out for the two of you. As much as you wanted to focus on what was playing, your nervous thoughts circled around one important thing that stuck on your mind. You had to tell him, or else the thought would just eat you up even more. Plus, seeing how calm Feitan was at this moment made it the perfect time.

"What's wrong?" you heard your boyfriend say, snapping you out of your circling thoughts. You weren't surprised that Feitan would eventually notice that you were acting different, he could practically read you like a book. You looked over to him, immediately noticing that famous icy glare piercing right through you. With those eyes, it'd be almost impossible to try and hide anything from him.

Now that your obvious distress caught Feitan’s attention, you decided that now was the time to tell him the big news. You clamped your hands together as you started to fidget with them, while turning your eyes away from him. A nervous feeling started to build up throughout your body. 

"Uh.. Fei, I have something important to tell you." Your voice was only projecting to yourself rather than trying to speak directly to him. During this very moment, more thoughts came flooding to your brain, now contemplating how you were going to tell him the news. Should you just fully blurt it out, or would it be better to try sugarcoat it?

You could always just play it off and pretend like it was nothing, but you knew that not in a million years would Feitan fall for that. 

From the corners of your eyes, you could tell that this caught his attention. He grabbed the remote next to him and paused the movie, “And what is it?” Feitan asked while his head tilted a little. The feeling of worry began to rush through you, causing your heart to pound. As hesitant as you were, you couldn't go back from telling him now.

“Well.. Feitan,” you began, “I’m pregnant.”

Your admission was the climax to your fear. Even though you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, the reaction of your boyfriend had you at the edge of your seat. You briefly noticed the look on his face, widened eyes and raised eyebrows looking straight at you. Apart from shocked, trying to analyze the emotions of how Feitan was truly feeling at the moment were hard to pinpoint. 

“Uh, Fei... how do you feel?” The answer was obvious, but you still wanted at least some kind of reaction from him. Feitan looked down away from your eyes and although his face relaxed, that still didn’t shake off that obvious look of confusion.

He quietly sighed, “I... don’t know.” 

After hearing those words mutter out of him, your heart sank into your chest. That comfortable environment you two had from earlier was now replaced with awkward tension. You were well aware that big news like this could give someone mixed emotions, so you just had to reassure yourself that this reaction was to be expected. But the thought lingered at the back of your mind, what was going to happen after this moment?

After exchanging a few moments of silence, Feitan blurted something "I won't be a good dad," he said, "And, the kid won't like me". You furrowed your brows, not expecting he'd say something like that.

“What do you mean, Fei?” You took a good look last his face. His eyes turned much softer, and stood down at himself. That previous look of shock completely vanished, and turned into this state of worry and confusion.

“______. I’m not a good person. You know this.” There was a grave tone in his voice. You always knew Feitan as your fearless lover, but right now seeing in this moment, you could tell that his voice shown hints of genuine worry. “You and the kid might be in danger.”

You sighed down at yourself. Well, Feitan didn’t sound like he was fully resenting the idea, right? 

You tried to shift from that topic with something else you’ve always thought of, “Have you ever thought about the idea of a kid before?”

He paused for a second before answering, “No. I haven’t.”

“I see. Now I know you haven’t had much time to think about this, so this question might be a little abrupt, but.. how do you feel... about having a kid?” Your voice started to falter at the last part, being nervous to hear about what he was going to say. Feitan looked down at himself, seeming deep in thought as he tried to process the question. It took him a while before finally speaking up.

“Well, I'm not opposed to it.” You slightly winced at his words, not expecting that to be his reaction. In all honesty, you never knew where his head was at regarding this topic, and you usually assumed that he’d be against having a kid.

“What’s with the strange look?” Feitan asked with a serious tone, furrowing his brows.

You responded with a relieved smile, “I don’t know, I just thought that you’d be against the idea!”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well.. You know.. You just seem a little- never mind. But, I do want to know, what makes you want to consider the idea?”

Feitan looked down at himself again, while you shift the position on the couch to get a better look at him. “I like the idea of having a little me,” he responded. If you looked closed enough, you could see the unnoticeable smile that appeared on his face. “And, I could teach it new things, too.”

“It?”

“The kid.. I could teach the kid new things.” You giggled at his correction, then shifted over on the couch so that you could sit next to him. There was a soft look in your eyes and a placid smile on your face. You were happy, but mostly relieved, to know that your boyfriend’s reaction was the complete opposite of what you feared. “Can I continue playing the movie, now?” he asked reaching for the remote. You nodded at him, pleased to know that the atmosphere in the room alleviated from its previous tension.

As the movie played out in the background, you became lost in your thoughts again. You had to admit that part of you felt nervous, having this fear in the back of your mind that focused only on the unknown. What if Feitan changed his mind? What if you were a bad parent? What if the kid didn’t like you? Even though these thoughts stuck to the back of your brain, the excitement you were facing right now when thinking about the future outweighed all the negatives.  Looking over to his direction, you saw the sight of Feitan softly smiling while watching the movie, making your heart swell.

 It wasn’t a shock to say that your boyfriend hid his emotions well, but as of right now, you could tell that Feitan, too, felt the same way.

[scaramouche-bully]

i hope this isn't rude to ask, but why do you write dark content topics like noncon and abuse? i'm a s/a and abuse survivor who had no problem with these things before my trauma but afterwards i became angry at people who made such content. now i'm trying to remember that people have different reasons for writing these things and i've been asking writers what their thoughts are. i've been following you for a while and i know you're kind and not ill intentioned in your writing, so i was wondering what your views are. this isn't meant to be hateful at all and i am just curious and want to understand. if this makes you uncomfortable feel free to delete it!

Hello anon,

Don't worry, this isn't rude to ask at all. I respect that you want to understand and this is from curiosity rather than being hateful (which I don't take your ask as such) and that you remember that there's a person behind the work. To be honest, I don't really know how to answer your question so I might go on a tangent. I hope you don't take my words as fact or my entire thought process but I just want to say:

I don't support rape or abuse. I don't want anyone to think that just because I write it, I fantasize about it or condone it in any way. I don't. I'm not trying to offend or make anyone angry, that's why I tag everything twice and add a read more. It's your choice whether to believe me or not, I just ask that you don't harass me under those assumptions.

To put it bluntly, it's just writing to me. When you see people write or do something really obscure or relating to dark content, you're completely right to assume it's because they're interested in those topics. But that's not necessarily the same for everything and everyone. I can't speak on the behalf of every single writer out there but personally, it's just something to explore from an omniscient point of view. I'm not going to bullshit you or sugarcoat my words, I'm not a survivor and the harassment and abuse that I have suffered aren't traumatic to me. That's why I can think that way and it's not because I have any ill-intent or I'm trying to undermine or pretend that those issues aren't serious. They are. Personally, I would get very upset as well because, in my mind, someone is taking something very personal and traumatic and doing what? Writing about it with fictional characters that they want to fuck? It feels insulting in a way. Naturally, I have no idea what you feel but that's how I would react.

But it's similar to any murder/mafia au or even yandere. Does that mean I like killing people or obsessive behaviour? No, absolutely not. When I write a character or direct a movie and someone is shooting someone, does that mean I'm into violence or condone guns? No, that was not the intention at all. We can say it's "not the same thing" and you're totally valid to think that way. But for me, it is. I'm not pretending as if murder or abuse doesn't exist or it's something to want. When it's in shows or books, no one really bats an eye to that. Maybe it's the stigma with fanfic authors that we're all 13-year old quotev writers/readers (I used to be one so I'm really just making fun of myself here) that we rightfully assume it's because we like those topics or we fantasize about being in those situations. Because why else would I want to read or write about x reader fics with those topics?

You don't need me to tell you that it's reasonable to be angry at people that make dark content. I myself, don't really like dark content that much either. I don't daydream about being used and I don't like feeling upset. Which I guess doesn't make sense especially for the type of fics I write. But when I actually write, there's a major disconnect between fiction and reality and I understand that it's not like that for everyone else. Writers pov compared to a reader's pov I feel is very different. I can be a selfish person and write this way because I've never been through it. But it's never from a place of disrespect and I apologize if it feels that way but I can't control what you feel. All I ask is that you read the tags and determine whether or not you want to associate with it. To me, it's just words on a paper and action queues I'm giving to imaginary characters. I'm not fantasizing about anything, I don't even like sex that much. I just think it's something to write that I feel like doing. For example, I don't care for Venti at all. He's cute I guess but I don't want to fuck him. But I still write for him and how I write makes it seem as if I actually look at Venti that way. I don't, it's just writing. I guess it's the same question as to why do you write in general. Because it's fun? I wouldn't really call it "fun" and more of a hobby that I like to do. This doesn't really make sense since people that do anything as a hobby naturally assume they have a passion or like it. In a sense, it's kind of like this: You enjoy drawing but if someone asked you to draw a monster, yes you could do it because you like to draw but it's not like you're putting your heart or deep emotional thoughts into it. It's just a drawing of a monster. You've never had an experience with a monster (in a fictional sense) so there's nothing for you to be traumatized with. There might be some aspects, spikes or tentacles, that make you uncomfortable, sure. And people can find deeper meanings in your work and make assumptions when there isn't, to you it's just an image.

I know this is an incredibly shitty way to explain why I write dark content because it sounds like I don't care or I think abuse/noncon subjects don't matter because it's "just words on a paper". I get it, in movies when the protagonist is abused or has been a survivor of rape and that doesn't go anywhere. That it's just a way for the movie to pity the main character or to explain why they act a certain way, it feels cheap and manufactured and I hate it. But I always believe that as long as you aren't doing anything illegal or endangering yourself + others, I don't care what you do. When I see topics that I personally find disgusting or don't like, I just move on. They aren't hurting me in any way and they're allowed to write what they want to write. I know that isn't the same for everyone and that kind of thinking is very romanticized but I like to think that I'm smart enough to know when that thinking breaks or isn't acceptable.

Sorry that I keep drawing comparisons, it's just how I like to explain things and it's easier for me to explain my thoughts that way. My writing is like a snow globe. Sure it has some real connotations with the snow that comes from nature, but it's not real snow. It's an overly pretty, dream-like world, that can never be cold and doesn't show how awful living with a lot of snow does to you. People that have never seen snow, they'll love it because it doesn't remind them of actual snow since they've never experienced it. But I have, I live in NA. Except I understand that it's just a snow globe. Sure it might make someone uncomfortable for any reason, but it doesn't for me and at the end of the day, it's just an object to me. You can take that as a very selfish way of thinking but I'm not going to throw my snowglobe in the trash just because someone doesn't like it. I know for a fact that anything I write isn't meant to trigger or make anyone upset, I write it because I want to explore those topics. I don't think it's hot, I don't think it's okay, and I don't condone it in real life. But it's just writing to me, it's just fiction, it's a way for me to explore those topics in a way that I am comfortable. If you don't like it and it triggers you, that is completely okay and understandable, but that wasn't my intention and I'm not going to stop.

I hope that answers your question and gives you a bit of insight into my views. I know my way of thinking isn't for everyone and you're allowed to disagree with it. Dark content is a very thin line that a lot of people aren't comfortable with and I acknowledge that. I don't even like dark content that much but I'm not going to stop writing about it. I'll tag everything, crop away topics that trigger people, and to be honest, I don't find myself writing about dark content ever unless an anon asks for it. But if you don't like me or disagree with what I've said, the block button is right there.

- 🐑

[where-fantasy-meets-reality]

A Twist of Fate

(GIF not mine) 

W/C: 2.1K

Warnings: Fluffy overload  

A/N: So, this is my first ever posting any kind of writing. I have written before but I have never had the courage to post anything. But, @mrskenobi19​ and some other friends gave me the courage to put this out there. I own nothing, I was just having fun. Hope you all enjoy 😃

----------

“....Ugh, crap….”

The rain was now coming down in a heavy downpour, like someone had turned on a shower head with you standing under it, as you made your way through the slightly crowded city sidewalk. The dark sky rumbled as you noticed the clouds roll across it.

Most people had taken cover once the storm had started, but not you. Seeing as you had your umbrella with you, you decided to plow through it.

At the time that had seemed like a good idea, after all, that is why you took the umbrella with you when you looked at the forecast this morning; that is until the wind picked up.

Now the rain was actually flying at you. The bottom of your pants were soaking wet and the water dripped off your umbrella onto your hands, soaking the cuffs of your rain jacket. Your shoes were starting to make that squishy sound from trudging through the puddles on the sidewalk as you maneuvered your way through the crowd of people who had decided to brave the storm like you.

Why hadn’t you worn your rain boots again?

“...Because it wasn’t supposed to be this bad…..just a light rain the weatherman had said...”

You huffed frustratedly under your breath, answering your own question.

The wind was blowing your now damp hair across your face, making it even more challenging to see.

Trying to secure your umbrella tightly to you in a one handed grip, you used your other hand to now brush the hair that the wind kept blowing out of your face.

But just as you let go, a surge of wind came rolling behind you, threatening to knock you off your feet.

While you had managed to catch your balance, your umbrella had not fared so well. The strong gust of wind had blown it inside out.

“Prefect!” You hissed as you stood in the middle of the now empty sidewalk, fighting with the broken umbrella.

Whatever little part of you had been dry was now absolutely soaked. The rain was falling down through your hair, down your face, to your eyes, blurring your vision.

The faster you tried to fix the umbrella and be on your way, the more it seemed to jam.

And all of this for a cup of coffee.

You were so focused on your umbrella that you didn’t notice when the rain seemed to stop falling on you. Looking up, you realized there was a large umbrella covering you.

“Hello there.”

You looked up to notice that a man was now standing over you, as you were slightly crouched down, still trying to fix your umbrella.

His voice had a wonderful accent to it. English? Or was it Scottish? His thick auburn hair seemed to be blowing in the wind as much as yours had been despite its short length. His beard was neatly groomed. But his eyes, his eyes were really what caught your attention. They were the prettiest blue you had ever seen, almost like the blue of the ocean on a summer's day. They really stood out against the dark gray sky that framed him. His navy sweater and grey peacoat certainly helped enhance his looks.

You regretted wearing your sweatpants.

“I’m sorry, but I saw you struggling and I was wondering if I might be able to help?”

How long had you been staring at him? His soft smile and his head nod as he gestured toward your broken umbrella snapped you back to reality.

“Ah….Yeah….I think it’s broken, a huge gust of wind knocked it back and I can’t seem to fix it.”

His expression turned to a slight frown as his brows furrowed.

“...Oh dear….Well, that's dreadful...I’m terribly sorry…..”

Was he staring at you too? Your eyes had locked with his for a brief second and it seemed as if the whole world had stopped spinning. It didn’t matter that you were both standing in the middle of the city sidewalk in the pouring rain; there was only him.

“....Well, are you going somewhere close by? I’d be happy to escort you. I had originally approached, hoping I could be of service. But, if not then the least I could do is see that you get to your destination as dry as possible.”

“Who was this man?” You thought to yourself. How lucky could you be that not only was this stranger good looking, but that he was also kind and helpful.

For the first time, you smiled. “Are you sure, you don’t have to, I don’t want to impose on you.”

You really didn’t. Plus, you were only going three doors down from where you stood and it’s not like it would matter if you got any more wet than you already were.

His smile was warm and genuine. “It’s no trouble at all. In fact, I offered.” Extending his arm out toward you, his eyes seemed to speak more words to you than he did. “Where can I take you too?”

Sheepishly, you took his arm. “...It’s just a few doors down, I was originally heading to that cafe over there.” You point to the building with a red door.

His eyes closed momentarily as his mouth curled into a side smile. “Well….what a coincidence, I am too.”  

Sticking his umbrella into his elbow, he now held his free hand out toward you. “I’m Ben by the way.”

Chuckling, you shook his hand. “Y/N”

Starting the walk toward the cafe, you noticed that he made it a point to keep pace with you and make sure that you both were actually able to share the umbrella. Clearly your escort was a gentleman.

Approaching the red door, he unlinked arms with you, moved to the side and held it open. “After you my dear.”

Blushing with a smile, you didn’t say anything as you stepped over the threshold.

Why couldn’t you stop smiling?

As you heard the door close behind you, you turned to find him shaking his umbrella off on the carpet.

As the two of you approached the counter, you turned to him. “Allow me to buy you a coffee, as a thank you.”

He shook his head as he shrugged his shoulders. “No, that’s not necessary, I was glad to be a help.”

“I know, but I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You annunciated the word “I” as you echoed the phrase he had said to you on the street corner.

He chuckled, a deep throaty sound; and it made your stomach flutter. “Okay, okay….you win this round.”

You noticed he said “this round.” Would there be another “round”?....The more you looked at this stranger with kind eyes and a warm smile, you did find yourself hoping that there would be another “round.”

After placing the order, the two of you stood off to the side waiting.

“So….what brings you out to a cafe in the middle of a rain storm.”

His eyes seem to light up. “I had planned on meeting some friends here. Well, I say friends but they’re more like my younger brother and sister; I’ve known them both for ages.”

His eyes lingered on you as if he was memorizing your face. “....And how about you?”

You laughed nervously. “Sadly, I am just a coffee addict. I thought I could make it here and back in time before the rain got too bad.”

His playful smile caused you to mirror his expression. “Ah, I see.”

The sound of the barista calling your name out broke the bubble that you two seemed to think you were in.

Moving toward the counter, the two of you grabbed your respective coffees.

Now what? The two of you were looking awkwardly at one another. It was as if you two wanted to say so much but at the same time you both said nothing.

Your eyes darted to the floor nervously as you tried to think of something to say

The sound of him clearing his throat caused you to look back up at him expectantly.

“.....if you aren’t doing anything you’re more than welcome to join me. My friends are hardly ever on time for anything and I’d love some company while I wait.”

He turned to the side and pointed at one of the free tables under the large windows.

Your wide smile creeped over your face. “I’d like that….thank you.”

The two of you sat down at one of the tables he had originally pointed to, but not before he pulled your chair out for you.

It didn’t matter that you were absolutely drenched and uncomfortable in your clothes. Or that you had left the television on in your apartment thinking that you would only be gone for five minutes. You could only focus on Ben.

The conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a history teacher down at the local high school and you had always loved history. Additionally, the more you two talked, the more you seemed to have similar interests in all the same areas. How many other men had you met that could enthusiastically talk about the finer points of movie musicals with the same enthusiasm that they could talk about serious dramas? Food, music, books, current events...the topics were limitless. The man even went from quoting Shakespeare to Spider-Man in just two sentences.

All of it made you not only laugh, but your walls slowly came down for this charming and intelligent man. You had completely lost all track of time to the point where you hadn't noticed that it stopped raining.

“So, do you come here often?” You asked him.

“I do. I usually stop in on my way to or home from work….Sometimes both depending on how the day went.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I get that.”

The sound of his cell phone buzzing on the table caught both of your attention.

“I’m sorry, excuse me.” He said picking up the phone and reading the text.

“......Huh…..Typical….” He smiled as he shook his head slightly back and forth.

You gave him a raised eyebrow look, asking a silent question.

“Well….it seems Anakin and Ahsoka are so late that they would rather we catch up for dinner instead….” He chuckled as he put the phone down. “Why am I not surprised?” He said looking back at you.

You looked at your watch. Wait….what? Dinner?! How late was it? You looked out the window. When had it stopped raining? How enchanted by this stranger were you? You needed to move along before you bored him to death.

Brushing your hair behind your hair, you stood up. “Well I should probably get going, I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

Standing, he gave you another one of his infectious smiles. “It was a pleasure. I enjoyed your company very much. It was lovely to meet you Y/N.” He stuck out his hand once again for a handshake.

Smiling, you shook his hand. “It was lovely meeting you too Ben.”

As you turned and headed for the door you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach that you could possibly never see this charming and interesting stranger again. Before you had any idea of what you were actually doing, you stopped. Running with the surge of courage you had before you thought too much about it. Turning on your heel, you casually looked at him.

“Maybe you could lend me your umbrella again sometime?”

His glazed eyes that had been watching you walk away cleared as he blinked rapidly at you, taking your words in. The thoughts he had been lost in would never become a reality.

“I would like that very much.” He gave you that smile again.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him a thoughtful expression. “I wonder if it’s supposed to rain again tomorrow?”

The glee in his blue eyes was unmistakable as he understood your hidden question. “...You know, I believe it is….Around 3, actually I think the forecast said…”

“ 3’oclock huh…..well…..I may just have to bring my broken umbrella to get a coffee in hopes that a kind stranger helps me out again.”

“....Hmmmm that does sound like a twist of fate….perhaps I’ll have to stop in for a coffee myself after school, see if anyone needs help with their umbrellas…”

With a polite head nod, you slowly backed towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your evening Ben.”

He raised his coffee towards you. “You as well Y/N.”

As you walked down the bustling sidewalk, the sunshine was now shining across your face, drying your damp clothing. You sighed happily as you replayed your afternoon with Ben. You really liked him. I mean, what wasn’t there to like? He was kind, polite, funny, charming…..and not to mention beautiful…...a twist of fate indeed.

Waiting till tomorrow at 3 would be practically impossible, but the prospect of seeing Ben again would make it all worth it.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

What are your thoughts on Crimes.

Crimes Against Nature (by James Alan Gardner and John Gardner) is a book that I am very interested in because it is a story about a writer and her relationship to a fantasy novel she writes with her husband. The book is kind of a comedy, and there's nothing particularly great about it, but it manages to do the thing that good humor does for me in general, which is make me feel like I'm in the presence of a larger and smarter and more intelligent species than I actually am.

In one of my fantasy stories (a thing that is currently a WIP, about wizards and a giant worm monster, which is a sort of anti-worm monster), there is a scene in which one character's face is completely burned away, and then he goes around being evil by putting various horrible substances on his skin, and he's never allowed to wear clothes again. I could be forgiven for thinking that that character is really stupid, if you knew nothing about James Alan Gardner and John Gardner. (As of a few years ago John Gardner was an assistant professor of English at my college, but he died in 2002). This is because, despite the fact that I did know this (he won the Hugo and Nebula awards for science fiction and fantasy in 1986), I actually did feel very smart and wise after reading the book, and I felt like I knew more about writing than the Gardner's characters (who, one assumes, know almost nothing about the subject). (I think this is because, while the Gardner's characters are kind of self-absorbed or weird, they do manage to write a lot about how they feel. And so the Gardner's characters can seem like caricatures sometimes, which seems to be more of their goal than simply being funny, but the Gardner's characters actually do seem to know what they're talking about, which is probably more of their goal than being funny).

Anyway, I just read that one scene from Crimes last night, and I felt the same thing again. It is kind of weird to be in that character's situation and in that situation's environment. Like, this guy is trying to do something that is pretty funny when you think about it, or you think about it for a moment, but the actual effect of the book isn't particularly funny. It feels like he is having a lot of sex, and he doesn't actually say much that seems like it's from his own mouth. But the author's mind seems to have a lot of fun with this guy. I don't mean that the whole book feels like that character's mind having fun with him. There are some serious topics being raised in there. But he is a guy who keeps having sex with his wife, and she keeps telling him she has an affair, and he keeps calling her "my little love-nest" and it seems like he's a little obsessed with her. This is a guy who isn't really allowed to eat food because his body, after the face gets burned away, is covered with these horrible poisons, and he is a guy who never wants to see anything that isn't black, so this story is about some guy who is very worried about his wife having an affair while he's just sitting there making horrible faces with a lot of poisons all over his body and eating nothing but black food. This is a guy who gets a lot of writing done without using words for most of the book, and doesn't seem to have a concept as to why he is the way he is. If you ever want to feel like you've come up with a brilliant novel idea, it helps to think about this guy a lot. If you know the characters in Crimes Against Nature well, you can't help but understand why the author wants to spend a lot of time with this character, and you feel like you would like to spend more time with this guy. In the end this book is just not particularly funny or witty, but its quality as a comic book about a guy with a lot of poisons all over his body and a lot of sex and no good ideas whatsoever is very high.

I can say more about the book if you ask. It's not just funny, it's one of those kinds of books that is always making you feel smarter than the characters, and that is a good book.

[kaeyas-beloved]

Hi!

Could I please ask for IkeRev HCs for Ray, Fenrir and Luka. What are they like as Older brothers to a younger sister who’s still a teenager, 16/17 ish?

Thank you!

Ray Blackwell, Fenrir Godspeed, Luka Clemence || Ikemen Revolution

Warning(s): Slight spoilers for Fenrir's & Luka’s route (nothing major tho), maybe some OOCness since I haven't picked up IkeRev in some time - but other than that none (do tell me if I’m wrong though ^^)

Note: Hello! I’m really sorry for taking such a long time to write this (honestly I wrote and re-wrote this a handful of times and I still don't even know if they're that great...)

Still, I hope they’re good enough and that you enjoy them - thank you for requesting!

She/Her pronouns are used to address the reader/younger sister

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Older Brother to Younger, Teen Sister HCs 

Ray Blackwell

Ray’s such a calm older brother in the sense that he’s both never intruding in on your personal space & gives you your freedom while still being able to know when he has to step up and protect you (even though he wants to protect you all the time)

Growing up the both of you were close (Fenrir was thrown in that mix too with how often the two boys hung out) But after Ray joined the army, steadily climbing the ranks and you stuck focusing on your studies you guys kind of drifted apart for sometime

You aren’t sure who started it but soon you found yourselves sending each other letters as a way to stay in touch (your letter more often than not having a picture of Belle tucked inside)

The little kitty loves you by the way - you’re his second favourite hooman (it’s cause you spoil him with cuddles), Ray’ll sometimes get jealous when the feline snuggles up to you because he thinks that his own cat loves you more than him

One day though you were walking home from school and passed an alleyway, faintly hearing someone baby talk to something. Curiosity got the better of you and that’s how you found your older brother, cross legged on the dirty street coddling one too many street cats

Though you do travel to that particular spot a lot now (usually as a way to procrastinate destress from school (or simply because you love cats like Ray does)) You’ll also keep them company when Ray can’t

Ray hates it when you go out late at night since anything could happen to you. It nags at the back of his mind a lot, that one day something might happen to his precious little sister and that he might not be there to save you. Old wounds and feelings resurface at the list of possibilities that come to mind.

He doesn’t want history to repeat itself, he doesn’t want to be unable to protect you from danger. So anytime that you visit headquarters and you stay late you either simply stay the night or have an escort take you home. You can choose which option you’d like but Ray’s not taking a ‘no’ as any form of an answer

Calls you dufus just because he can (but affectionately). Might also ruffle your hair and/or pat you on the shoulder

You call him an old man because he can’t stay up past 10PM (Ray’ll then make some kind of comment regarding Sirius and how he’s more of an old man, to which you both laugh until the man himself makes his presence behind you known)

Absolutely the kind of brother to move things you need off a shelf out of your reach before proceeding to walk away with a satisfied smile on his face

Also the kind of brother to tease you about any cute boys/girls/people that he catches you staring at or gushing about (but he’ll stop if you tell him seriously to stop)

Do you like books? Ray likes books. He has a lot of books. Take a book, please he has too many--

If you enjoy reading, Ray is constantly recommending you novels, letting you read them before casually asking you your opinion on certain characters or events when you’re returning it. But even if you're not an avid reader he may still hand you a book or two that he knows you'll enjoy

Like mentioned earlier, Ray is very busy with Army work and such but honestly, out of everyone in the Black Army, he’s the second best person to come to with homework (second only to Sirius). Especially with history. Like, you need the entire history of the Black Army or Cradle? He’s got you, he had to read up on it when he was on the road to becoming the King of Spades.

Really, you could just pop right into his office at anytime, ask your question and Ray will be able to answer without missing a beat before going back to whatever he was doing

You can always come to Ray for anything. Questions, complaints you name it he’ll listen to your woes/answer however he can.

You guys bond over your teacher(s) giving too much homework; Ray reminiscing when he was your age and in high school - he completely understands the struggle (it was excruciating. All the work prolonged the sweet embrace of a good night’s sleep T~T)

There’s someone who’s picking on you? Don’t worry he’ll deal with them >:)

He might not always know how he can help or comfort you since he’s not the best with words when it comes to certain things, but that won’t stop him from at least helping where he can

Will never let anything happen to you -- Ray protects you with his life and he'll use any power he has if it means that you can walk out unharmed, that’s how much he cares for you

Fenrir Godspeed

Fenrir doubles as both your older brother and your best friend

110% flaunts how you’re the coolest little sister a brother could have to anyone that will listen (most of the time it’s the Black Army tho)

Flips between calling you by name, ‘sis’ and any other ridiculous nickname he can come up with (but don’t worry - you have an equally stupid name for him)

Considers you his best buddy (aside from Ray that is)

Fenrir’s also the kind of brother to pat his sister’s head, ruffle her hair, give gentle noogies and shake her around by the shoulders/poke her playfully then go ‘wasn’t me’. Just like these wholesome little things that mean no harm or anything

I also like the idea of Fenrir giving his sister piggyback rides - it's just a nice thought, please don't take this away from me I beg of you T-T

Best bro Fenrir picks you up from school every day, no ifs, ands or buts! Usually, he’ll buy you your favourite sweet/snack and give it to you when he gets there.

Brings Shu Shu along as well and the three of you will talk about what happened at school or anything exciting that may have happened as he walks you either home or to the barracks

You’re both very chaotic + Ray joins in too most of the time. Quite a few pranks happen when you’re at Black HQ (RIP the Black Army when you come over and you three triple team them).

Harmless pranks I promise!

Fenrir may take one of your belongings (a brush, your favourite book or an accessory) and run around the place with the only way of you getting it back is to catch him

There was this one time you snuck tomatoes into his food to see if he’d notice.

Spoiler alert: he most certainly did

After that he kinda ignored you for the rest of the day as payback, pouting and pretending like you weren’t there, saying stuff like ‘huh? Did you hear that?” At the end of the day though he wasn't mad and was able to laugh it off (it doesn’t erase the betrayal he felt tho)

Once in a while you’ll also poke fun at his fear of ghosts, saying off hand that there’s one at the end of the hall, down in the cellar or behind him. You never go too far though - not after the time that a prank of yours left him really shaken. You’ve never seen him so scared in your life and don’t plan to again.

Oliver’s soul nearly left his body when he first met you and learned that you took after your troublesome brother

Fenrir loves helping you with any school work you have cause he likes being a dependable brother for you! …The only problem is that sometimes he doesn’t know how to. Like, he grasps the basic concepts of what you’re talking about, but if you ask him how to calculate acceleration or a parabola he draws a blank - you’ve lost him.

Pls cut him some slack tho he’s trying his best and just the thought alone is sweet 🥺

Compared to his best buddy Ray, the Ace of Spades has quite a bit of free time, which he spends by dropping by the family home where you still live for surprise visits.

Most greetings start with “There’s my favourite sister!” with you adding on “I’m your only sister Fenrir…”

You still welcome him with a smile, open arms and a hug :)

Swears up, down and on his life to keep you and army affairs separate, he’s NOT going to expose his little sister to the violence that comes with his occupation. He stands firm on this decision. This topic is one of the only times you’ll see him actually serious

You’re not stupid though, you know what goes on, and, because of this, every time you hear in passing that the gun crazed Ace of Spades was at it again - launching himself straight into battle - there’s this pang of anxiety that rattles you to your core. You’re sure that there always will be no matter how much times passes

As a sum up - very loving and goofy brother/best friend with the addition of lots of pranks and battle scares 😎✌️

Luka Clemence

You know how in game Luka starts off as kinda cold to MC/Alice? Yeah there's none of that with his little sister

Usually when hanging around her he's most of the time adorning a small smile cause he finds joy in being around her

The relationship you have is a VERY close one considering that, while growing up in the prestigious Clemence household, it was basically you and Luka against the world

Sometimes Luka fears that you’re really lonely back at home because he’s not around as much as he used to be ever since joining the Black Army. Therefore, every week he’s set aside at the bare minimum a whole day (or at least an afternoon/evening) to go visit you - or for you to visit him!

Y’all cooking buddies and I’ll die on this hill

Luka teaches you any and everything he knows about cooking all the way to baking. He’ll even write down recipes for your favourite dishes so you can make them when he’s not there.

Whenever you’re visiting the Black Army and it’s Luka’s turn to make dinner you pitch in and help. He’ll make some of the dishes while you make the others.

The Black Army adores your cooking since you have such a great teacher/brother

Luka lets you hold/pet/feed/take care of Stone. You’re the only exception he makes when it comes to his furry companion

Don’t swear around him he’ll die (that is, after getting told by the other Black Army officers why it's such a bad thing and a big deal)

Lets you hold his sword once but you ended up nearly toppling over because it was heavier than you first anticipated.

Would play the violin for you while you study if you asked him, especially if you bring up that it helps you concentrate better

Sibling fights are non-existent. The only time that there’s a chance of you butting heads is when Luka starts pushing himself too much with training or the conversion involves Jonah

Speaking of the Queen of Hearts--

It’s a constant tug of war between the two brothers on who gets to spend the day with you. Luka’s scowling, Jonah’s pouting and you’re wondering what you have to do to get your brothers to get along (or at least have it where you’re not in the middle of it all)

Very supportive of whatever you want to do with your life. Luka also tells you every once in a while that you can always come live in Black territory or even the barracks when you’re a little older if you want to

All the more should Jonah/your parents ever try to enforce something on you (like some kind of lesson/social norms for Red Territory that you don’t like etc.). Luka will 100% whisk you away into Black Territory to get away from it all, just say the word.

All in all each of the boys are wrapped around their little sister's finger and would do anything to keep her safe and happy :)

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

Thank you again for requesting!

[Masterlist]

[palmett-hoes]

per your post "every single one of the monsters is autistic and/or adhd" will you elaborate on that?, if you do i will love you forever (not that i wont if you dont do it)

oh boy i would love to!!! unironically nothing brings me more joy than writing long, convoluted character analysis posts

---

okay so i’ve written several posts before about why andrew is autistic. his moral code, the roundabout way he communicates, his body language, his stimulation-seeking behavior, his strict adherence to transactional deals, the emphasis on honesty, and a dozen other details. at this point i just take andrew being autistic as fact, not just an interpretation

h o w e v e r  i also hc that andrew is dyslexic, which is also a neurodiverse condition

- - -

similarly, i’ve seen more than one person interpret kevin as autistic, and i absolutely agree that it fits. not just the hyperfocus on exy but mostly the way he communicates. he’s very indirect, especially in his affection but very direct with his opinions. he tries to be helpful in a material way to the people he cares about, even if he comes off as negative. he wants the people he cares about to be safe and successful so he pushes them to work hard and reminds them in measurable ways how to stay healthy. he doesn’t factor in a lot of room for emotions, so instead he focuses on quantifiable things that he can improve. i personally act very similarly. approaching someone emotionally is hard for me, so when the people i care about have problems all i can think to do is try offering solutions, check up on their well-being, etc. practicality instead of conventional sentiment is extremely common with asd

- - -

so now let’s talk about neil. i had to think on this one for a WHILE but ultimately came to the conclusion that neil is adhd, probably hyperactive type. 

like obviously neil is high energy. i would say he probably does the most exercise of anyone on the team. morning run, morning practice, afternoon practice, night practice with kevin and andrew, plus he doesn’t have a car so he runs to class (on a BIG ass campus), and goes for an extra run when he feels stressed. that’s... insane, honestly.

neil reminds me SO MUCH of this post that goes:

“Was just informed by my mom that I do in fact have ADHD and the reason I thought I didn’t was because ever since I was seven whenever I got super energetic my mom would have me go chop wood so now when I’m feeling The ADHD I go chop wood”

(phenomenal post) and that’s neil to a t. tell me this isn’t exactly how neil handles his problems and also exactly what mary would have had to do to keep her unmedicated and very energetic son focused on the task of staying alive

neil also definitely has that ADHD on/off switch with his interest. the obvious being exy which is like the definition of a hyperfixation, but you can see it in other things: the way he runs totally hot or totally cold with people, his complete disinterest in his schoolwork, the way he can’t seem to sit still long enough to follow movies. but then there’s also the hyperfocus. doing the same drill for hours on end. watching exy game after exy game. staring at andrew until time falls away

what’s more, neil on many occasions shows racing thoughts, both in an anxiety way (and anxiety often goes hand-and-hand with adhd) but also as a way to quickly and accurately take in details about people to build a character profile of them. this is what allows him to connect with the foxes, how he manages to get through andrew’s puzzles, and even how he knows what to say in order to knock riko down a peg. his brain just works so fast and it takes in a lot of very specific details and disparate information to make connections.

but also like,, neil has a HUGE problem with time blindness. like the instant he didn’t have his mother around to manage and direct him anymore he lost all sense of time. he stayed in Millport for a YEAR. and what did he keep telling himself during that time? basically “i really need to move on, but not just yet.” for a YEAR! then he gets to palmetto and he’s like “i’ll cut and run in a month or two” then he doesn’t “i’ll be gone by halloween” wrong again “i’ll leave by the raven’s game” nope. like,, the boy just has NO sense of time and he can’t seem to make himself DO anything outside of an externally enforced schedule. and even then,,, HE HAD 48 FUCKING DAYS TO FIGURE OUT SOMETHING TO DO TO NOT GET MURDERED! 48 WHOLE DAYS. he didn’t make a plan, he didn’t write down any letters with goodbyes, he didn’t GO TO THE FBI LIKE HE’D INTENDED TO THE WHOLE TIME! nah he just made out with andrew and when he finally got to zero he was just like “ah shit, that was fast. oh well guess i’ll die” and that’s time blindness, babey!

---

let’s move on to nicky. 

now i think it would be really easy to say nicky is just adhd because he’s high energy and forgetful but tbh,, i don’t think that’s all of it. like if you really look at nicky’s character and especially at his problems, he has asd problems just as much as he has adhd problems.

so nicky is dual diagnosis asd and adhd. also nicky reminds me a lot of a girl i used to know who was autistic/adhd

so, adhd:

very generally speaking, ppl with adhd will struggle with sitting still, listening to and following instructions, planning/organization, following a schedule, and some social boundaries like “appropriate” times and topics of conversation

i would say you see hints of this with nicky. he’s definitely a rambunctious personality, constantly on the move, constantly stimulation seeking. he’s very tactile. he likes to dance, he likes to party, he complains about it but he’s an elite-level athlete. he’s also decidedly very chatty, and doesn’t seem to really pay attention to what he’s saying. he distracts himself and the people around him have to keep him on track. he has some trouble with boundaries. he’s a little all over the place. he’s almost a bit of an adhd stereotype

also one thing i find interesting is that when neil sees him in the library doing work neil is surprised to see he’s capable of that, especially bc when we see the upperclassmen doing work they generally do it in their dorms or on the bus and/or with other people around. that hyper-social nicky would be alone in a quiet place is weird. but this is like the most common tip for dealing with adhd. don’t do it in a familiar space. have a designated space and time to do work. limit distractions. just a lil detail

so now, asd:

in all honesty, most of nicky’s actual problems in the narrative could be viewed as stemming from asd symptoms. his number one issue being that he has a lot of trouble with nonverbal cues (and tbh, verbal ones too). the twins are mostly quiet. andrew especially (when he’s sober) communicates primarily nonverbally, and nicky seems to have a lot of trouble with this. despite knowing them for the longest on the team, nicky honestly seems to have the least insight into the way either of the twins actually thinks or processes things. he loves them, and he’s very forgiving of them, but he fundamentally doesn’t understand them. 

the twins, andrew especially, put up a LOT of nonverbal boundaries, and nicky sort of inadvertently keeps trampling all over them. he’s touchy in a way they don’t like. he talks a lot about their personal lives to other people. he treats them like they’re joking when they’re serious. etc. and like,,, you kind of get the sense that the upperclassmen feel similarly about him. beyond the homophobia, beyond the fact that he’s loyal to andrew, the upperclassmen still treat him with this sense of,, bafflement, i suppose? it’s clear that they don’t really understand him and he doesn’t really understand them. although, nicky IS curious about the upperclassmen, while the upperclassmen are pretty dismissive of him. it reminds me of when my sweet, floppy dog tries to play with my cat. their body language is different; they’re each receiving different signals than they believe they’re sending out

only,, nicky loves people!! he likes being around them, he likes talking to them. he’s interested in their lives and stories, but it’s very clear that he can’t read between the lines on people. he has an incredibly hard time with people who expect their actions to speak for them, which is most people, but is especially his cousins.

actually this is very much also an issue that i have: things need to be spelled out for me. the way i deal with it is i ask a lot of questions. ‘how do you want me to react to this potential situation?’ ‘what are specific things that make you most comfortable?’ ‘please explain to me exactly how you feel and what has prompted those feelings?’ and i’m always communicating vice versa like that with other people. a lot of specifics in both questions and answers

and the interesting thing is, when i was skimming through the books reviewing dialogue styles for another ask, i noticed that, actually, nicky DOES do this. with neil and the upperclassmen, nicky asks a LOT of quick, clarifying questions. things that ask after tone, that ask after intent. it’s kinda sad that he does this for communicating with acquaintances, but with the twins, the people he’s closest to, he makes a lot more assumptions. and i’m really proud of nicky for having this coping skill, because i can’t imagine it’s something he grew up doing. there’s no way he was raised in an environment that fostered this kind of open communication so it must have been something he learned about much later, probably in germany with the kloses, which would also explain why he’s a lil imperfect about it

---

now last but not least, aaron

this is another one i had to think through for a long time before it felt like it fit

much like how i felt that it would be easy to read nicky as simply adhd rather than also asd, i think it would be easy to say aaron is autistic simply because he is quieter, less rambunctious. however, i actually think he’s adhd, likely primarily inattentive type

in all honesty, aaron’s #1 character trait for the first two books is basically that he’s disconnected. detached. separated both from his family and his team. not in the same forcefully apathetic way that andrew is, more,, spaced out. he’s just kind,, there. not really paying attention to what’s going on, tuning in every once in a while only if something really catches his eye/ear then tuning right back out again. just sits in his corner and plays on his phone. and the thing is, from the moments when he does tune in, you can tell that he actually does care. he backs nicky when seth insults him in tfc, and we know he cares deeply about andrew even if he’s become disillusioned with their fraught relationship. he even hangs with his family, doesn’t seem to really try and slip away to other friends besides katelyn, he’s fine spending his leisure time with the monsters. so it’s not totally apathy, he’s just,,, tuned out most of the time

and, yea, that sounds like adhd. it’s not the type that most people are familiar with, and for a lot of people this causes it to slip under the radar. it can make it hard to get help or a dx because it doesn’t fit with how adhd “should” look or how someone “should” act, but difficulty focusing your thoughts and staying in tune with the current moment is absolutely part of adhd

addiction is also a huge problem for people with adhd. a lot of stimulants affect people with adhd very differently than neurotypicals, especially in small doses, and an adhd kid who’s struggled their whole lives with the disorder might try speed or god-forbid meth or fuck even coffee and suddenly find that things are a lot easier for them. they start to self-medicate, they don’t actually know what they’re doing, and then they’re addicted, and everything spirals out of control. we don’t know too many details about aaron’s addiction other than that his mother enabled him, but wouldn’t this fit? it’s also an explanation for aaron still taking drugs at eden’s, given that cracker dust seems to be a mild amphetamine. (aaron talk to betsy about the neurocog and get an actual prescription please)

(total throw away but aaron plays videogames and videogames are like,, adhd culture)

[ahopelessromantic]

I’m yours, you’re mine ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x reader

Word count: 3,2k

Prompts: 10, “I’m pregnant; 16, “Marry me.”; 30, “You want a family with me?”

Warnings: slight angst, pregnancy, Spencer is a whole baby and a half

You’re ready to take the next step in your relationship. The question is: Is Spencer? 

(I loved writing this so much and could maybe even imagine writing a part two, tell me if that’s something you’d like!)

“Good morning, everyone.” Hotch’s greeting for the morning only came through to you as a faint echo. He was giving out the details of you team’s newest case as clear as always, but to you it sounded like his voice came from a distance. Instead of paying attention to him all you could to was to stare straight ahead, trying to force down the wave of nausea threatening to overcome you. Why was everything spinning? For a moment you thought you had gotten it under control.But then a waft of Emily’s morning coffee hit your nose and you felt your stomach turn. “(Y/N), can you work the victimology?” Of course, just in that moment you were addressed. “Sure- “ You started to answer before you felt your breakfast rise into your throat. “Coming up right after I’ve coughed up my lungs.”, was the only thing you managed to yelp out before you sprinted to the nearest toilet.

The cold bathroom tiles beneath your knees almost felt like a sweet relief while your stomach painfully clenched around itself. Once there was nothing left to throw up anymore you leaned against the wall of the bathroom stall, trying to calm down your breathing. Somehow, you felt even worse than you normally felt after throwing up. You heard someone enter the toilets and then a knock sounded against your door. “Honey, are you okay?” It was JJ, and not bothering to get up you just unlocked the door for her to get in. You nodded at her, wiping away the tears on your face. She looked at you worriedly. “Did you eat something wrong? I know Garcia’s sushi orders can be weird.” You chuckled but shook your head. “Nah, I’ve been feeling off for weeks. This was the first time I had to throw up though.” JJ kneeled down across from you, closing the door behind her. She held out a paper towel to you which you gratefully took, not missing the weird look she was giving you. “You know...” She started to speak, unsure of how to bring her words across without upsetting you. “When I was pregnant with Henry, I felt awful for weeks before I realised what was going on. I constantly felt dizzy, and the worst was looking at all the crime scene photos every day.” You felt your eyes widen with every word she spoke. Normally, you only felt this weird around the time of your period, but now thinking back you realised that you hadn’t bled in some time. A pregnancy definitely made more sense to you now than a very resilient stomach bug. “Hey, (Y/N), don’t pass out on me now!”JJ warned, shaking you out of your trance. >You had probably only gotten paler the more the realisation had sunken in. “Jayje, shit, I think you might be right.” She sent you a gentle smile and squeezed your shoulder. “Should I go get you a test?” You felt tears well up in your eyes at her kindness. “Thank you, but no. I think I’ll actually head home and do it there. I just need some time to… I don’t know, mentally prepare for whatever the result will be.”

Once your legs felt stable enough to walk again you went up to Hotch’s office to ask for the day off, which he thankfully allowed. You really needed to lie down and sleep for a few years. On your way out of the office Spencer stopped you in your tracks, the worried look on his pretty face even worse than everyone else’s. Pulling you close, he held the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Come on, I’ll drive you home.” You took his hand from your forehead, pressing a kiss against it. “I’m fine Spence. Go back to work.” But he just shook his head and went ahead to the elevator. “No discussion. I’m not letting you drive like this.” A soft smile on your face you followed him, forever grateful to have him. “Take a nap, and maybe eat something. Okay?” He told you after dropping you off at your shared apartment. You nodded. “I’ll try.” He sent you one last worried look, as if he was trying to assess whether or not he could actually leave you home alone in this state. Finally, he just nodded to himself. “Alright. Call me if you need something.” Spencer pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.” He murmured and left through the door; gaze trained on you on his whole way out. You mouthed the words back to him, only able to fully relax once he was gone. You needed a plan, some tea and, well, a pregnancy test.

After a quick trip to the pharmacy down the street you sat down with a cup of your favourite tea, caught in a very intense staring battle with the pregnancy test’s cardboard box. You for yourself knew that one day, at some point in your life, you wanted to have kids.And considering the fact that you hoped to spend the rest of our life with Spencer by your side, him being the father of your children would probably only be practical. So far you had just never brought it up with him, somehow sure it was going to be a sensible topic for him.

But sitting there now, the test in front of you, made you wish you had brought it up at some point. What if he absolutely didn’t want kids of his own and you were actually pregnant? Would he break up with you? Oh god, he was going to break up with you. Now more than ever needing certainty you got up, grabbed the test and disappeared into the bathroom. The time you had to wait for the results only passed excruciatingly slow, and by the time your phone’s timer went off you had already chewed off half your nails. With a mixture of fear and excitement you looked at the little screen. A little happy emoticon smiled back at you, taking your breath away. You were pregnant. “Holy shit.” You gasped out, sinking down on the rim of your bathtub. “I’m going to be a mom.”

“(Y/N)?” Spencer called out through the apartment later that day, closing the front door behind him. “Bedroom!” You told him, feeling your hands starting to tremble once again. “Hey.” Your boyfriend smiled, peeking his head through the door. The sight of his smile somewhat calmed your nerves. “How are you doing?” He asked calmly after sitting down by your side on the bed.

You straightened up to lean against him, burying your face in his neck. “Better.” You mumbled against his warm skin, taking in his scent of cologne and books. “Still feel dizzy though.” He pushed your hair out of your face, looking down on you softly. “Do you want to eat something? I bought soup.” A large smile grew on your face. If he wanted the baby he was going to be an amazing father. But you needed some more time with your Spencer, before you took the risk of losing him over something serious like this. “I’d love some soup.” You smiled. “Can you go ahead and heat it up for me? I want to get changed before I eat.” Without a word of protest, he left for the kitchen, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. Then you got up, got changed, and made sure the test was hidden somewhere he would never look.

During the next two weeks the nausea finally began to ease up on you, and a visit to the doctor’s office had only confirmed what the pregnancy test had told you: You were about nine weeks pregnant with a healthy baby, whose heartbeat you had even already been able to hear. Oddly, since hearing your little bean’s heartbeat, you felt a lot more certain and happy about the situation you were in. Of course, you still had to somehow tell Spencer, and you more than anything in the world hoped that he was going to be on board with it. But you were going to be a mom with or without him. You had talked to Hotch and asked him to put you on desk duty for the time being, not exactly telling him what was going on. He had just been too happy to have someone do the paperwork to question your motives. But Spencer, who knew how much you loved being out in the field, was starting to notice the changes in your behaviour. You had managed to act like everything was fine for a while, but even though your boyfriend was sometimes clueless he was still a genius.

“(Y/N), honey, can we… talk?” He hesitantly asked you at work in your tenth week of pregnancy. He had pulled you aside into a storage room for files, hoping to get a moment alone with you. You sent him a nervous smile. “Sure, uh, what’s up?” He sighed. “You know what’s up, (Y/N). The problem is that I don’t, and it’s starting to drive me insane. Are you going to break up with me?” You had been so caught up in your own head the past weeks that you hadn’t paid enough attention to your boyfriend, and it was only now that you realised how tired and frightened he looked. You were both idiots, so afraid of losing each other that you would even avoid resolving everything because it meant having to talk it out. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. “You might want to sit down.” You spoke softly, gesturing to the deserted old desk in the middle of the room. Spencer looked at you, shadows darkening his face, but still sat down. “What’s going on, (Y/N)? Are you…” His eyes widened. “Are you sick?” You slowly shook your head. “No, not exactly. Spence, I need you to know that I love you, okay? I love you more than anything in the world, and I just really didn’t know how to tell you.” He looked at you, wide hazel eyes trained on you, head moving in a barely visible nod. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat. “I’m pregnant.” You finally spoke, voice wavering. Spencer completely froze up. For a whole moment he didn’t move, scaring you that he might pass out. But then he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I understand.” He mumbled. You frowned in confusion. “What?” “You don’t want to keep it. I understand that.” Shocked, you stepped closer to where he was sitting on the table. “What? No, honey! I want to have this baby.” His eyes bolted up to look at you. You could see the gears in his head turning, his big brain trying to make sense of the situation. “But... I’m an ex junkie. Schizophrenia runs in my family. My own dad abandoned me; I have no idea how to be a father. I’m the last person who should have a child.” You felt tears well up in your eyes at his words. Did he really feel that way about himself? You knew he doubted himself on the regular, you had made it your job to build him back up whenever the doubts kicked in, but this was a whole new level of self-depreciation. Didn’t he know that he was just as deserving of happiness as everyone else? “Spencer.” You uttered, cupping his face in your hands. “The risk of our baby becoming schizophrenic is less than ten percent. That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He looked up to you from his seat, a desperate look in his hazel eyes. “But (Y/N)-“ He tried to plead but you interrupted him. “My love. You are the only person I could see myself doing this with. You’re compassionate, kind, intelligent, and no one knows me the way you do. I’ve seen you with kids, they love you. You understand them. If anyone should get to be a father, it’s you. And I want this, us. I want us to take this step.” He looked up at you in wonder, his eyes glistening suspiciously. “You want a family with me?” You laughed, finally allowing your tears to fall. “Yes.” You hushed, pressing your lips to his. “I want you, I want us, and I want this baby.” He stood up, engulfing you in the warmest hug. You could hear him sniffling but decided to give him this. He needed to cry without being seen for a moment. “I love you.” He finally choked out after pulling away to look at you, placing a hand on your stomach. You knew then that his words weren’t only for you anymore.

The two of you waited until the three-month mark to tell the rest of the team. You assembled all of them in the bullpen after a long day of work and told them as straightforward as possible, both nervously standing next to each other. All of them erupted into laughter and happy words of congratulation and you could swear you had even seen Garcia shed a tear or two. Another baby in the BAU. Amidst the chaos of everyone smothering you in hugs, you didn’t see Spencer pull Morgan aside, the two of them in a short, quiet conversation until Derek clapped your boyfriend on the shoulder with a bright grin. Even Hotch had hugged you, jokingly telling you that the paperwork was yours for the next few months. Your team’s reaction to the news only made you look forward to the changes to come even more, and you couldn’t be happier. Little baby Reid was going to be so loved.

“Are you up for a mini road trip?” Spencer asked you after leaving your office building, getting into the drivers’ seat of his car. Still feeling so overwhelmed with happiness you just nodded. In that moment you would have said yes to basically anything. You were so giddy that you didn’t even notice how quiet your boyfriend had gone, usually he would be just about talking your ear off right now. The radio filled the comfortable silence between the two of you in the car, and you made yourself comfortable. You could tell you were driving to downtown DC, a route you had known by heart ever since working in Quantico.

Less than an hour later Spencer stopped the car right outside the Smithsonian Museum, one of your favourite places to go together. “Shouldn’t they be closed by now?” Instead of answering, Spencer just winked at you and got out of the car to open the door for you. Hand in hand you climbed the stairs to the entrance, where a guard was waiting for you. “Doctor Reid.”, he nodded at your boyfriend, stepping aside to let you in. You looked at him in wonder. “Spence, what are you planning?” He smiled at you. “I called in some favours.” In just that moment the two of you entered the massive rotunda, the beauty of it stealing your breath away. You had been here what felt like a hundred times, but never like this. There was no one around but you two, and the low lighting gave the whole room a magical feeling. “Wow.” You whispered, trying to look at everything at once. Spencer just looked at you. “Just how many favours did you have to call in for this?” He smiled shyly. “Not as many as you might think, actually. I helped some people here with their dissertations.” “Of course you did.”, you giggled, stepping close to him. “What did I do to deserve this?” You asked, trying to remember if you had forgotten about an anniversary or something. “Can’t I just do something nice for the woman I love?” He asked, stealing a kiss from your lips. He always got way more confident when there weren’t any people around. You just deadpanned at him. “Honey, everything you do has a purpose. You once scolded me for baking a cake because ‘it was no one’s birthday.’” It looked like you had caught him there, taking in the way he started playing with his hands. “Do you want to…sit down?” He asked, pointing at one of the museum’s benches. You nodded, following him suit. “You know, I never thought I would have this one day.” Spencer spoke up after a few moments of silence. Even his quiet words echoed through the empty marble-clad hall and gave them a whole different weight. “Have what?” You asked him and encouraged him with a squeeze of his hand. “A girlfriend, a baby on the way. My own family.” You chuckled. “Me neither. I never thought I would ever meet someone like you. You felt Spencer move, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of you. You were sure your heart stopped beating for a moment. “I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), more than I ever thought myself capable of.” He seemed awfully serious for a moment, but then he started searching for something in the pocket of his jacket and back was the Spencer you knew. “This was way smoother in my head.” He muttered before he finally found what he had been looking for with a quiet “ha!”. It was a black velvet box. With trembling fingers he opened it, revealing the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen to you. “Marry me?” He asked, a pleading look on his face. “No matter what happens, we will always be a family. And I want to make that official, for everyone to see. I want you to be mine in life and on paper, (Y/N). Marry me.” You bit your lip, unable to speak for a moment. Afraid your voice might fail you you just nodded heavily, tears already streaming down your face. You leaned down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, hoping he would understand that as a yes. Still, just to be sure, you whispered “yes” again and again after pulling away from him, tracing his whole face with your fingers. You wanted to forever be able to remember the way he looked in that moment, the museum’s low lights reflected in his eyes, the happiness on his face. He leaned up from where he was kneeling in front of you to kiss you again, the both of you full on crying now. “I love you.” You both whispered at almost the same time. It took you a few minutes to calm down, your full attention on nothing but each other. “Morgan helped me choose the ring. I hope you like it.” He spoke up after a while. Oh, right. The ring. You looked at it glistening on your ring finger, fascinated by the diamond’s thousand facets. Just as many as you boyfriend, no, fiancé, had. “I love it, Spencer. But I love you more.” You ended up spending half the night in the museum, the beautiful building now forever having taken on a whole new meaning for the two of you. Spencer was yours and you were his, and soon you would have a little proof of your love running around. You couldn’t wait to go on this journey with him.

[gabywantsafriend]

Anything For You: Ferris Bueller x Reader

(Kinda my gif??? Idk I found it online but I originally posted it on here)

Requested by anonymous:  ferris bueller realizing he loves the reader maybe?

I’m so sorry it took such a long time to post another imagine! I hope you guys enjoy it :’)

Warning: Swearing

“Adams?” “Here.”

“Adamley?” “Here!”

“Adamowski?” A rather lazy hand was raised, indicating the student’s presence. 

“Adamson?” “Here.”

“Adler?” The response was delayed by a couple of seconds. “Here.”

“Anderson?” Another delayed response. “Anderson?” “Here!” 

“Bueller?” 

Nothing. You quickly scanned the room, he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t walk in that morning. You looked at Cameron and he shrugged. Apparently he didn’t know what Ferris was up to or where he was. “Bueller?” Crickets. “Bueller?” Dead silence. “Bueller?” The teacher’s monotonous voice began to sound like a broken record player. 

You cleared your throat as you tried impersonating the missing troublemaker, letting out a low “Here.” The class snickered, causing your teacher to silence everyone. Turning to you, he huffed. 

“L/n, I know you and Bueller are best friends but you really don’t have to cover for him in his absence. You’ll get your turn in the roll call later, don’t get too excited,” He went on with checking the attendance. You stubbornly sank into your seat, eyeing the vacant one next to you where Ferris was usually sat. What kind of trouble do you have in mind this time?

--------

Recess rolled in and you were standing at the phone booth just outside of your school. You dialed Ferris’ home number and waited for him to pick up. He was probably out on another one of his spontaneous adventures.

“Hello?” His voice was nasally,  he was always good at playing sick. 

“Oh, cut the crap. Where the hell are you, idiot? This is your tenth absence this semester, you said you didn’t wanna miss school after last time! No wonder your grades are shit! What are you up to now?” You scolded. Skipping class to hang out and be teenagers was fun the first few times. However as it became a habit of Ferris, you wished he could take school more seriously.

“Y/n, calm down. First of all, I could easily hack into the school’s computer system and change my grades,” He coughed. “Second, I’m not kidding this time. I’m actually sick.” You scoffed, muttering a small “yeah right.” 

Of course, you found it hard to believe. You’ve known Ferris Bueller since you were ten. And you knew that it took a lot for him to be ill. 

“Why would I ever lie to you? I’m serious,” he deadpanned. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Alright, I’ll bring today’s assignments for you and I’ll visit you as soon as class ends.” You could practically hear him smile through the phone as he spoke. “Thanks, Y/n. You’re the best.” You bid goodbye as he did the same, both of you putting down the phone.

Well, what do you know. For the first time in a long time, Ferris Bueller was sick.

--------

You dropped your bike right in front of the Buellers residence and sprinted to the back door. You lifted the rug and took the spare key that Katie Bueller left in case of emergencies or whenever you wanted to visit. You were always welcome. Unlocking the door, you bolted up the steps and stopped in front of the door to your best friend’s room..

“Ferris, you better not be naked. I’m coming in.” 

“Hi, Y/n.” The sight was beyond pitiful: The floor was littered with used tissues. Bottles of medicine decorated his dresser. And on the bed was a very pale boy, sniffling and shivering still even under the many layers of blankets he was covered in. Oh, Ferris.

“You look like shit.” He let out a weak chuckle. “It’s nice seeing you too,” he quipped. You rolled your eyes at his untimely use of sarcasm and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead.

“Jesus, you’re practically steaming,” You commented, getting up to fetch him an ice pack to hopefully lower his temperature. “I’m flattered, Y/n. I really am. But can you keep it in your pants until after I get well?” You were used to his foul-mouthed jokes by now. “Very funny, loser. Now put this on your forehead,” You handed him the cold material and he obeyed, hissing as it touched his skin. 

“Oh, right! I got the homework for you,” you told him, getting your bag and pulling out his books and assessment sheets and laying them on his desk. “I also wrote an extra copy of the notes you missed,” You handed him the pages that you’ve ripped from your notebook where the duplicates were. His eyes, teary from his cold, widened.

“Wha-? But I just asked for you to get today’s assignments! You didn’t have to go an extra mile with taking my notes for me!” He took the papers gratefully, flipping through them. “I’m convinced you’re my guardian angel or some shit! Thank you so much!”

“Anything for you.” 

It was true. You’d gladly and endlessly do anything for him.

You’ve liked Ferris since you first covered for him in fifth grade. 

Young Ferris thought it’d be a good idea to chuck a bouncy ball at Mrs. Ritland, the math teacher you had all despised. Believe it or not, he was an even bigger idiot back when you were ten. She was writing on the chalkboard, back turned to you; the perfect time to strike. The small toy hit the poor lady’s nape. The classroom was suddenly filled with gasps and the sound of laughter. She exclaimed in pain, rage-filled eyes darting from student to student. Before she could even question which delinquent threw the damned thing, you stood up and raised your hand. 

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

Ferris was quick to defend you, chucking another bouncy ball at the woman. “If you even think of punishing her, you’ll have to go through me!”

You were both given a month’s detention and have been inseparable ever since. 

“I’m dying,” He croaked, snapping you out of your daydream.

“Oh, please. You’re not dying. You just can’t think of anything good to do!” You quoted him. “Didn’t you say that yourself?” 

He groaned, “Yes, I did say that myself. But now isn’t the time. I’m really not feeling well, Y/n.”

“Nonsense! It helped Cameron last time, he felt great afterwards.” You got off the bed, trying to pull him up with you. Instead, he snuggled deeper into the covers. “Aww, come on! Get up on your feet, mister! What do you feel like doing today? The weather’s lovely! Maybe we can go swimming? Or perhaps you’d like to go to the arcade? Ooh, street food sounds good! Just tell me where you wanna go, and I’ll take you there!” You coaxed excitedly.

“As much as I love our adventures, I was thinking maybe we could just stay here? You know, we could talk for a while and we can take a nap together just like when we were kids. And when I’m feeling better, we could watch a movie,” Ferris spoke softly, sniffling right after. You hummed, considering his offer.

“You can stay here and rest. I can get us some corn dogs from the stand nearby, I’ll be quick I promi-”

“No, no, you missed my point,” he shook his head, grinning at your stubbornness. “I meant can you stay? We don’t have to go anywhere. I enjoy your company, it’s more than enough,” He pulled the blankets to his nose, hiding his bashful smile as well as his growing blush. You were sure you would have melted then and there.

“Sure thing. Ferris.” You adored this boy.

It had been an hour since you’d agreed to stay in with Ferris and you were seated at his desk, tutoring him about trigonometric functions, a lesson he missed that day. He was reading the notes on the topic, following along with what you were saying. “Okay, I found this to be quite easy. So, we start off with the basics: sine, cosine, and tangent-”

At least, that’s what it looked like.

At first glance, it seemed as though he was actually studying. But what you didn’t know was that he had been admiring your handwriting and your little doodles on the blank spaces of the paper. 

See, Ferris liked you. He’s liked you since forever ago. He remembered the moment so vividly, as if it only happened yesterday. 

“I did it, Mrs. Ritland!”

He looked at you and thought, “Wow, that is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Obviously, he couldn’t let a pretty girl such as you take the blame for what a stupid boy such as him had done. It just wasn’t fair to you. So he immediately admitted that it was his fault, as he should.

He felt guilty that you had to get wrapped up in this mess and had to suffer the consequences. To make up for it, every time you had detention, he would take you to secret hideouts around the school. That two months of running around school trying not to get caught marked your first of soon-to-be-many adventures. 

And now here you were, almost eight years later, helping him solve for x. His eyes softened at how into it you were while teaching him. You were even more beautiful than when you were a kid, just when his younger self thought you couldn’t get any more stunning. 

He thought about how you were kind enough to fill him in on everything he’d missed; how as soon as class was dismissed, you biked as quickly as you could just to take care of him. You could have easily ditched him to go out and get those corn dogs you’ve been craving; or you could have easily gone out for a walk since, according to you, “the weather’s lovely.” 

But you didn’t. 

You stayed. 

The mere thought of that, along with everything about you, caused his heart to pound out of his chest. 

I think I’m in love with her. Fuck that. I am in love with her.

“...And that explains why sine 90° is equivalent to 1. What the-? Ferris Bueller, are you even listening?” You waved a hand in front of his face, still not responding. He looked as if his mind was somewhere completely different. “Hello? Earth to Ferris?” He blinked a few times, shaking his head. He whispered something you didn’t quite catch. “What?” He whispered again. “I can’t hear you, pal. Speak up.” 

“I love you. There, I said it.” You were at a loss for words as your eyes met. Both of you progressively got redder by the second.

“What in the right mind made you say that?” Confusion was evident in your voice, as well as nervousness. 

“I’ve loved you for a while now and when you dropped everything to visit me today, I realized how deep I’ve fallen,” Ferris bashfully stated. He could be cheesy at times but you thought it was cute.

“Woah, you are such a fucking sap,” You both burst into laughter, him scoffing and clutching his chest in mock offense. “I love you too, you dingus.”

His heart fluttered as you said it. The mix of his sickness and your confession made him lightheaded. You plopped down on his bed, hugging him tightly. “Wait, what are you doing? You’re too close, I’m gonna get you sick!” He asked as you kissed his nose. 

You got under the covers with him, rolling your eyes, “You think I still care? I fucking love you for Christ’s sake!” You made him laugh at that. “How about that nap you suggested earlier, hmm?”

He closed his eyes, the biggest grin still plastered on his face. “She loves me,” being the last thought in his head before contently falling asleep.

[league-of-thots]

Leave Me a Message

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, some suggestive themes, um gl with this? im told by my beta it was very sad

Words: 9.4k 

A/N: so um. this happened. First off, if you’d like to go break your heart some more, go check out the MASTERLIST because everyone worked super hard on these and there are some really amazing writers.

Og, this was supposed to be 3k, and then it just kept going and im suffering ok jesus that was so long. it was also kind of a way for me to get out some of my own inner turmoil around some stuff and i fucking loved writing it. ...not to be lame but yes i did cry writing it (shhh) anyways, i hope you enjoy? as much as you can enjoy angst of course.

         Hawks doesn’t do commitment. He’d said that from the start, that he wasn’t out looking for someone to try and grab his heart from out his chest, that he was simply looking for someone to keep his body company. He told you that he was tired of the press making a big deal of him being single, that all you would have to is hang out with him a bit, dates and couple things. He said that he’d been missing some company, that it would be amazing to have someone to spend some of his (very little) time off of patrol with. It was simple to you, who wouldn’t take the opportunity to be on the arm of a successful pro hero? Who would turn down the chance to learn more about the elusive Hawks, the one who’d baffled the media’s attempts to discover anything about him at all?

         You told yourself you weren’t going to make the mistake of getting attached, he was the number two hero after all, he had so much choice. There was no way you were going to be an idiot about it, this was only for some curiosity about the man.

         You enter the bar, a little awestruck at how clean and upscale it was. Of course, it wasn’t too surprising given the fact that this was the number 2 pro hero. He was bound to have some cash to throw around for a good time, plus he’d already told you that he’d be paying for the night.

         How could you refuse him?

         The night started out slow, the two of you lightly discussing regular day to day topics, but it intrigued you how carefully he spoke about everything. You didn’t really know him but you could’ve sworn that he had a plan with everything that he said, that everything he did was carefully calculated. To be honest, it was a little chilling, but as the alcohol started flowing along with the conversation, he relaxed a bit and you had to admit that he was a really fun person to talk to.

         The two of you had gotten closer in the circular booth as the night had gone on, blaming the loud surroundings and dim light so that you could see and hear each other better. He had this dry wit that left you struggling for breath as you laughed at his jokes and his teasing. He seemed to be enjoying himself too, but honestly, you couldn’t really read him at all.

         It was getting into the wee hours in the morning when the conversation took a more serious turn, the conversation starting to be about what this was, and what this would be.

         He was quite direct that he’d make it worth your while

“No offense, love, but if I’m being completely honest, I’m just not good at relationships. They’re not my thing. But I’m lonely and bored, and honestly? You caught my eye.” He’d said this in a low voice to you at the bar, his breath tickling your ear and you flutter your eyelashes up at him.

         “Are you asking me for a night of fun, Mr. Hawks?” you say coyly.

         “Maybe a night, maybe more if I like you.” He leans in to whisper to you, “You’ve got a pretty good chance babe.”

         “You’re not worried about me not liking you?” you weren’t really taken aback; it was to be expected from the number two hero that if you came to meet him, you were interested in him for sure.

         He leans back, with his hands behind him. “If I’m reading your body language right, and I’m pretty good at that y’know, then I’d say you’ve been pretty excited the whole night.”

         You laugh a bit at that. “Well, you’re not wrong I guess.”

         “Then I have nothing to worry about at all.”

           Your arrangement with Hawks started as a few dates in more secluded public areas, the first being a movie which you’d taken a bus to get too. When you’d gotten there, you went inside like he had asked you too. There, you saw him in the furthest corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn’t working well and you had to stifle a giggle as you walked up to him.

         The only reason that people didn’t seem to be coming up to him was the fact that the normally upbeat and friendly hero was closed off, and looking rather downtrodden.

         “Hey, Hawks.” You say, bumping his shoulder with your own playfully. “How’re you doing.”

         “Better now that you’re here,” he smoothly slips his arm into yours, face morphing into a slightly happier expression. “Would you happen to be a fan of popcorn and a drink at the movies, Y/N?”

         “Of course! How can you have one without the other?” He smiles at that, a quick upturn of his lips and its quickly gone again as he guides you to the counter to get some snacks and drinks. It wasn’t supposed to be an incredibly exciting movie, but it was supposed to be decent enough that the two of you could enjoy it together and relax without really having to push through any awkward tension that could still be around with the two of you being relative strangers.

         It was like a neutral ground to start off the fake relationship, while the two of you could learn about one another. It had to look real in public after all, Hawks wanted people off his back.

         Although, the last night the two of you had spent together after the bar had certainly been real. It had also left you so sore you could barely walk the next day, but that was another story for another day.

         The two of you sit down in one of the further rows, but not in the back. You have a good view of the screen; you notice as you sit down with Hawks.  You look over to him, and see that carefully guarded neutral expression on his face again. It’s almost as if there’s a mask he has under the skin of his face, that snaps back into place whenever it falters for a little, or he actually shows something of his true thoughts.

         It was almost eerie how well he did it, how second nature it seemed to him. No wonder the press couldn’t get shit on him, you thought, he’s not exactly an open book to read, and he’s actively trying to make it harder for people. You wondered if it was just because he preferred his privacy or if he had a really big secret that he felt he needed to keep.

         That was almost amusing, thinking the reason Hawks was so mysterious is some large secret that there was pressure on him to keep.

         The opening previews shook you out of your thoughts, seeing one for a book to movie adaptation that was coming out soon and you were super pumped to see. It had your favourite director working on it, and they said they’d worked closely with the author during the script writing process you and were really hopeful that it would turn out well.

         You looked to Hawks to whisper this to him in excitement and he leans over so you could whisper it so as to not disturb the people around you. When you’re done, he turns to whisper back in your ear, “Guess we’ll be back at the movies soon then.” He watches your face become a bright smile, a little heat in your face from excitement and a little embarrassment as he was giving you his full attention as you fangirled a bit.

         The movie was actually pretty decent, you thought during the middle of it. The acting carried the script though, and they were lucky at how much chemistry there was between the actors given most of them hadn’t done movies with each other before. A little way after that, Hawks leaned back in his chair, actually more relaxed than you’d ever seen him before, as he brought his arm back around you. You rolled your eyes at the little cliché he’d performed, but still found it sweet. You could feel the warmth he gave off and it made you feel comfortable and safe.

         After the movie, the two of you parted ways, but not before he gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, and the promise to see you soon.

         “I’m going to be really busy the next few weeks, so it might be a little while before we can do something like this again.” He warned, “Things are really picking up with criminal activity and such.”

         “If you were going to be so busy you should be at home resting,” you scold, and then your eyes widen in shock at what you’d just blurted out. “I, uh- I mean…” you try to recover but Hawks was laughing hard.

         “Trying to get rid of me so soon? I thought the date was pretty fun, myself.” He teases, seeing what you’ll do next.

         “It was! Just um-, you’ve got to be safe out there and stuff. So, you should get your rest, I would understand if you had to cancel because of that.” You finish a little lamely.

         “That’s very sweet, Y/N, it really is. But honestly? Doing something like this is way more of a recharge for me. Makes me relax a little bit. So, thank you for the nice date. That is if you’ll have me?” he cocks an eyebrow with a crooked smile.

         “Of course, now go get some sleep, bird brain.” He chuckles, and with a wave he’s off, streaking through the air. You’re hit with a bit of a gust of wind, but seeing him fly up close? Totally worth it.

         You turn around and start walking to the bus stop that’ll take you back home, it had been quite a good date and you were in high spirits.

         You could see this whole arrangement working out quite well for you, if that first date was anything to go by.

           The fourth date was the one that he really started to show you what actually lay beneath the mask that he put on all the time. The two of you had been texting over a few weeks, and because he was so busy, a couple short get togethers happened, but this was the first time he had a whole day off for a long time.

         The topics the two of you had been texting about varied to asking simple questions about what kind of tea was your favourite, to what you thought would happen to you after you died. That had been a weird night, but you saw the next day it had been because Hawks had been on patrol and had been unable to completely save people from a villain. It had been one person out of hundreds, but you could feel his guilt through the screen.

         Among the lighter topics though, you found out that Hawks hadn’t really ever learned how to cook or bake. He said that he never learned from anyone, so he mostly did takeout and easy to make meals. You decided it would be fun to teach him how to bake, there were a few sweet treats that were easy enough to do. Certainly, he’d be able to handle it, you thought, especially since he made so many other difficult things look easy.

         Hawks, in fact, could not handle it, you’d later find out.

         The doorbell rings, and you take off your apron that you’d been wearing to get the baking started so that it wouldn’t take as long. There was still a fair amount of work to do, and the icing had to be made. You’re really hoping he enjoys it, it’s a new idea and you’re a little nervous.

You greet him and take his coat to hang it up as he takes off his shoes, he’s wearing cargo pants and unmatching socks, one pink and the other grey, along with a black t-shirt. You let him look around a bit before directing him to the kitchen a little nervously.

“Um, so I was thinking because you said you’d never really baked before that we could try and make a little something?” you’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt as he grabs your hands to stop you from doing that.

“That sounds like a really fun idea, Y/N. It’s really cute.” He gives you a quick smile as you smile at the praise. “Now. What are we making Chef?”

You giggle a bit at that. “I was thinking a carrot cake with some buttercream icing.”

“Well that doesn’t sound easy.” You shush him.

“It is! And I’ve already done some of it, so we can eat it sooner.”

He looks unconvinced. “I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“It’s baking,” you scoff. “You save people for a living, I’m pretty sure you can handle some baking.”

Famous last words, the start wasn’t to bad, Hawks fallowing your instructions carefully. It was when he got confident that he first fucked it up.

“So, now all you have to do is whip this with the blender for a few minutes around the bowl. When it starts getting a thicker consistency let me know, because that’s when you have to hand do it.” You’d decided on cinnamon rolls with a nice smooth icing on top that would become a glaze.

“Got it,” he chirps, putting the metal parts of the hand mixer in the bowl before starting it up and putting to medium high like you’d instructed him to do. “Maybe you were right, sweets, this isn’t too bad.”

“See? Even a bird brain like you can get it!” you laugh.

And then it happened.

After you said that to him, he turned around to give you a playful spank on the ass, forgetting he’d been holding the bowl on the counter in place with his hand. At the same time, he lifted the hand holding the mixer.

You both let out a sharp cry of surprise, you from getting slapped and both of you from the loud crash and the bowl goes flying and the icing gets flung everywhere. You look at him slack-jawed as he frantically turns off the hand mixer and gives you a sheepish look.

“Oops?” he says with a nervous smile.

“Oh. My god.” You get out before you start laughing so hard you’re keeled over, your stomach starting to hurt. “What the fuck Hawks? Hahah! How did you manage to get the bowl to fly that far!”

He scratches his hair and laughs along with you. “I’m actually really unsure, I honestly thought that I was going to get through this without messing it up. Sorry I ruined the icing, Y/N.”

You wave your hand. “It’s fine, cinnamon rolls are still good without the toppings.”

“Hold up.” You turn over and he has a calculating look on his face. “Is this why you did most of the mixing before I got here.”

“Noooooo…… of course not.” You say unconvincingly, knowing he already knows the answer.

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip like a child.

“Hey, but now we can still eat the cinnamon roles! So that’s a good thing.” You say brightly, swiping a bit of the icing with your finger and popping it in your mouth. He looks down at you and for once his eyes crinkle with a genuine smile and your heart skips a beat. He’s absolutely stunning, you think.

“Uh, let’s get – let’s get this all cleaned up, alright?” you get out turning yourself around to distract your thoughts from him. And his eyes, when they crinkle, and oh my god he’s such a cutie, what the fuck?

You somehow manage to avoid acting like a fool for the remainder of the time while the two of you clean up, trading words and jokes with one another, the conversation flowing like a lazy stream.

When they were done you squealed out in excitement and grabbed some mitts to take out the pan but as soon as you open the oven door, some feathers zip in to grab it. You look over at him and he gives you an innocent smile.

“Wouldn’t want you to accidentally drop them.” You scowl.

“I’m not the one who made a mess of the whole kitchen, you dork.”

“Fair enough, where do I put these?”

“Just put the tray on the pads in the dining room, I’m going to make some tea.”

“Alright.”

Once the water is heated, you grab a few different packets to see what he wants, and make your way over to the table with him. You gesture at the tea packets, and he takes the Camomile tea and you open the kettle to let him drop it in.

“Now we just have to wait for the tea to steep and the rolls to cool down! Not too bad if I do say so myself.” You tell him happily. It had been really fun watching him do something so carefree, he seemed more relaxed than normal.

“It was really fun Y/N.” he said with what you thought genuine sincerity. “I never got to really do this before, and it was a lot different than I thought it would be baking with someone.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it Hawks!”

“Uh, you could call me Takami? That’s my family name. Keigo Takami.” He says, stumbling over it a bit, as if the words were trying to rush themselves out of his mouth.

You pour out the tea into the cups you have, and you watch him dive into the rolls, face lit up. He really likes his sweets, and he says how good they are and how he was so amazed he’d had a part in making them.

“Most of the stuff I try to cook either tastes bland, gross, or its burnt.” He mentions offhandedly.

You look at him closely. “Seriously? I’m going to have to teach you how to cook so you can actually get some healthy food into you aren’t I?”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“Yes, I do.” He doesn’t argue with you, knowing that the battle is lost, and accepts it with a sigh.

The two of you finish the night by watching a movie, which leads to something, which leads to something else… It was a pretty awesome date night you think as you drift off to sleep.

           Although doing ‘couple-like’ things in public, you found the two of you were growing closer as friends, at least, outside of any bedrooms. There was something free and liberating about being a friend (with benefits) to Keigo, and you got to glimpse the tiny parts of his life that had physical forms, whether it be photos, or actions or stories.

         The more you learned though, the more you wanted to know more about him, to understand him and be there for him.

         You saw how lonely he actually was, he really wasn’t joking when he’d said that to you on the first night the two of you had seen each other in person. How his life when he wasn’t being the Number Two Hero was empty as if he didn’t really know what to do with it, as if he were lost and didn’t really know himself either.

         The only picture he had of people in his house was one with him, and a middle-aged woman with weary eyes that must’ve been his mother. The photo was a little yellowed, and a little crumpled, but the frame was simple wood with intricate carvings on the side. There was a wooden flower beside it.

         What had happened to him? To his family?

         Sometimes when you called him Keigo as you entered a room and he wasn’t facing you; he would shudder as if someone had a knife pressed to his throat, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Or when sometimes he would dose off and mumble in his sleep for someone to help him, he promises he’d do better next time… You always tried to wake him up gently when that happened, and he’d thank you and then shut down any attempts to talk about it. Every time. Not a single word.

         So, you let it be.

         Obviously, he didn’t know how to not be alone, and it stung you to the very core that nobody else was really there for him.

         Everyone needs a friend, and you were happy to be that friend for him.

           You realized the predicament you were in suddenly one day as you were going into your regular café for your morning coffee, ordering one for yourself and one for the winged hero who you planned to spend some time before patrol with. You didn’t even second guess ordering his coffee just as he liked it, excited to see the smile on his face when you’d give it to him. He’d still get surprised by the little gestures you’d do to show him that you cared, that it wasn’t just a game for you, that you were his friend.

         You hadn’t realized how rare it was to get a genuine smile from him, but you were willing to do so much just to see it. Then it hit you. You wouldn’t go to these lengths for any friend, Keigo was special to you in a way that the other’s in your life weren’t. You think you know what that means, and it terrifies you.

         You knew he didn’t do the whole relationship aspect, he’d said as much, and everything in his life had backed that up as well.

         The barista has to call you a couple times for you to snap you out of your mild panicked thoughts, looking a little annoyed. You quickly apologize, shoving your feelings down and grabbing the coffees hastily as you make your way to the place where he’d be meeting you. You were going to be a couple minutes late, which always made you flustered, and on top of that you were freaking out about trying to keep those emotions you’d buried down there.

         They were not going to see the light of day, you promised yourself that. Maybe you could cram them down so far deep that they’d disappear.

         Ha. As if. You knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but that was a later problem that you weren’t prepared to deal with right now.

         When you get there, a smile does light up his face as he thanks you, relishing the coffee. The two of you start walking down the street, Hawks waving at people who yell at him, putting on that fake-smile-that-looks-real for people who ask him to join them in a picture, or sign something for them.

         He did it all with patience, but through the cracks you could see the weariness dripping through. The way he put it was that he wanted to do as little work as possible. You assume that’s for this part of the hero business as well.

         “Well, thank you for your support! I’ll be sure to do my best, don’t worry.” He says to a little boy, bending down and flicking his hat, which gets a smile and a giggle from the kid. “Thank you all for your support!” he says loudly as he stands up, and people cheer before easily making their way away from him, the dismissal clear.

         The two of you sip your coffee as you walk down the street. You said you’d go for a quick walk around the city with him before he has to clock in for patrol. While you’re walking, he laces his fingers with yours.

         “You don’t mind, do you?” he mutters under his breath. Your pulse is fluttering but you shake your head no and sip on your coffee. “Good, it’s getting chilly.”

         After you drop him off you can’t help but look at your hand and smile, giggling to yourself a bit as you squeeze your hand. His hand had been so smooth compared to what you thought it would be like, but then again, he didn’t really fight with his fists and he wore gloves. It had felt so good though, the weight of his hand in yours.

           After you noticed how you felt about Keigo though, it became harder and harder to try and ignore the feelings that seemed to bubble up whenever the two of you would talk or text or hang out. Little pangs of excitement would ring out against your will whenever the chime of the ringtone you’d set for him would sound.

         You perk up a little as once again it alerts, going over to read what he sent you.

Keigo: gonna have to be away a little more in the next few weeks -_-

Y/N: aww why :(

Keigo: secret stuff shhhhhh. I gotta go check out some weird villain movement

Y/N: stay safe ok?

Keigo: don’t worry, they won’t catch me im too fast :P

Y/N: srsly if you die ill kill you >:(

           You don’t hear from it at all in the next few weeks, and you didn’t realize how much the two of you had been in contact with, but your days felt strangely empty without the noise that he made so often.

         You missed him, and more than that, you were worried about him so much. Since when did top heroes go on secret assignments? Wasn’t that stuff for the underground heroes to take care of? Why did he sound so calm about it?

         The questions whirled around in your head, day in and day out. The couple of weeks pass in a daze for you, everything seeming out of wack in your life. Part of you was angry at yourself for being so distracted by him, and the other part was busy screaming all the worst-case scenarios that could happen to him. You have nightmares about him injured and bleeding, eyes lifeless. You check your phone at least a few times whenever you can, just seeing if maybe he’s sent a text to you.

         You’ve sent him a few messages here and there, small things like “I hope you’re doing ok!”, or “I miss you”, or “I’m really hoping you’re safe.”

         In the middle of the third week, you hear that chime and you jump up, excited. It’s a short message, but he must be exhausted from his mission, he was away for so long. He asked if you could go over to his apartment sometime soon. Said he needed to talk to you and stuff. His text was short and to the point, he seemed nervous about something.

         Some of the worries had disappeared at the ringing noise came creeping back at that, but you responded that you would whenever you were both free. He said that he’d be off of work for a little while, which was concerning, so you were going over tomorrow. You settled in for a rough night.

           What were you supposed to bring to someone’s house when they had been tossed into secret mission to track down some dangerous villains and were most likely injured? There wasn’t a handguide on that unfortunately, but you did know that he loved one of the soups you had made one time. So, you made some in the morning when you got up, put it in a container and on your way to his apartment for lunch.

         Hopefully that would be acceptable, even though you knew Keigo didn’t really care that much about pomp and other gifts. You think he was grateful to have some company, he loved being on the move and sitting still for a long time would be a special type of hell.

         So, you wanted to do something nice for him.

         In all honesty, you didn’t think it would be that bad when he opened the door with a bruised and cut face, as well as an arm sling with his ribs all bandaged up.

         “Oh my god!” you screamed, your free hands flying up to your face. “What the hell happened to you!” he shushes you and pulls you into the apartment.

         “Not so loud! It’s not public!” he chastises you.

         “Oh, right sorry. I’m just – Keigo, what happened to you? You disappear for almost three full weeks and you come back looking as if someone used you as a punching bag.”

         “Surprisingly enough, that metaphor is rather accurate.” You feel your eyes bugging out of your head and he sees that. “Hey! Don’t worry, this isn’t the worse I’ve been beaten up- Oh god that’s probably not comforting.”

         “No, it isn’t! Is there anything you can tell me?” you plead.

         He shakes his head sadly, pretending to zip up his lips and lock them. “But I can tell you that I’ll be back to normal in about a week or so. I could also tell you about the people I met that weren’t y’know, villains. And you brought soup! You’re the best dove.” You blush a little at the new nickname, but you did notice that the nervousness he’d had when he’d been texting with was definitely still there and it put you off a little bit.

         The two of you ate, the only sounds coming from eating, and the brief comments that Keigo was giving about where he’d been. You nodded in interest, interjecting every once and a while to ask a question for detail.

         After the meal, the two of you sat down together in silence until Keigo cleared his throat.

         “Can I talk to you about something more serious?” You nodded, here came what he’d been stressing about since last night. “God, ok this is harder than I thought for some reason.” He gives a dry chuckle. You stay silent. “Um, I think we’re going to have to take a break from the whole ‘side benefits’ we got going along, you okay with that, dove?” ah. So, this was it. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. But at least you knew what, now you wanted to hear the why.

         But Keigo was fickle, he didn’t like being backed into a corner. If you would’ve directly asked, you’d get no answer that would satisfy you. So you sit their with your heart falling out of your chest.

         “I mean, if that’s what you want.” You say as neutrally as possible, trying to hide the hurt from your features. It didn’t work as well as you planned based on Keigo’s scowl.

         “You’ve got to talk to me, what about that makes you upset?”

         “It’s nothing, I’ll get over it. I knew this wouldn’t last forever.” You mutter, trying to shrug him off. At least this way you could get over him, maybe.

         “I did say no guarantees at the beginning,” he frowns. It felt like he was rubbing it into your face, and it fucking stung like a cut being washed with rubbing alcohol. “I told you that I’m not good with this whole interpersonal thing.”

         “Yeah, I fucking know that!” each word was like a sting, and your voice echoes in the empty apartment. “Can you at least tell me why.” You hate that your voice cracks on that last sentence.

“There’s this someone I’ve been talking too, when I was out there. A little rough around the edges, but really fucking amazing. I was trying to slip into their friend group you know? Turns out we felt the same way.”

         You feel your heart drop out of your chest and into your stomach. “Wow, Keigo! That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!” you hear yourself say. The words ring hollow, but he’s so wrapped up in his excitement that for once, he doesn’t notice.

         “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he enthuses, impassioned. “It’s like a totally different wavelength you know.” His feathers were doing this cute little ruffling, and your heart ached. You had to keep your hand back from going to smooth them. Some nights, when the two of you were just hanging out and relaxing, he’d let you smooth them out. He said it felt good, and the texture always made you feel calm.

         You needed some of that calm right now.

         “I’m glad you found someone then.” And you really were, you knew how alone he was. You were happy he found someone he liked. You just wish it had been you.

           You think it was some type of torture, watching Keigo fall in love with someone else. The way he’d talk with his eyes lighting up, the way that he’d do that thing where his feathers would ruffle when he’d think of them with a dopey smile on his face when he thinks you’re too occupied to pay attention to him.

         It fucking killed you when it happens, although you made no effort to break away from him. You couldn’t. You knew that he needed you there, he’d said as much with his small actions, the way he thanked you every time you spent time with him.

         You wondered what you had done to deserve this.

           Eventually, it was too much for you too handle, when he’d started leaving the city more often to go visit them, you started making excuses for why you didn’t have as much time for him in the few weeks.

         “Works really busy this week sorry.”

         “Oh, I’m sick, and I wouldn’t want you to catch it”

         “I’m sorry I’m really tired, I can’t hang out today.

You couldn’t get over him, and you couldn’t tell him either. It seems you could do nothing but ache while he prospered.

It was hard, making distance. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten, and you hadn’t realized that you had needed him as much as he needed you.

         The phone rings and you see the caller.

         Of course, it’s him. It seems no matter how you try to distance yourself you can’t really get away from him. It always seems like you’re in his wingspan. Always in his reach.

         You pick up the phone, “Hey Keigo! What’s up.”

           You were a fucking fool. Keigo might’ve been the one with the wings, but you’d flown too close to the sun that you’d wanted to see and learn about. The sun that you’d wanted to bask in the warmth in and claim as your own.

         You’d forgotten one of the first things that he’d texted you.

         It hurt so bad.

         You were such an idiot.

           At first when Keigo said he’d been dumped a few months later; you didn’t believe him. Who the fuck would tell Hawks that he wasn’t good enough for them?

         “Ha-ha, very funny joke Keigo.” You say sarcastically. “Don’t stand there out in the rain, idiot.” You gesture for him to come inside.

         He makes his way over the doorstep, eyes unfocused as if he hadn’t even noticed the fact that it was raining. He wordlessly hands you his phone, and you gasp at the text that he’d been sent.

         They said he couldn’t be trusted, that they didn’t want to work to get him to open himself up, that even he wasn’t worth the amount of effort they’d need to use in order to actually get to know him.

         “Still don’t believe me?” His voice cracks on the last word, as he takes a deep breath to compose himself.

         “Fuck, Keigo. I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I’m so sorry.” You bring him in, sit him down and go grab him a towel with some old clothes one of your exes had left in your home when you’d broken up.

         You hand it to him and tell him to shower if he wants to, but at least put some dry clothes on. He listlessly follows your instructions, and you’ve never seen him look so dull. It scared you. While he’s busy though – you vaguely hear your shower in the background get turned on – as you put some tea on. Chamomile, his first choice all those months ago. It was his comfort tea. You also slipped into your room to grab the softest blanket you had.

         You waited about half an hour for him, so you turned on the gas fireplace in the room, warming yourself and staring into the flames as you waited.

         Who would say something so terrible?

         You’d never met his partner, Keigo was secretive at the best of times, but when it came to people, he was especially paranoid. You knew it was because he’d amassed enemies in his years as a pro, but sometimes it was frustrating to deal with.

         However, they must have been truly awful to say something like that.

         You wonder if they would’ve said that stuff if they’d seen the empty apartment, bare of most things that gave a house a character. The lone photo which looked to be at least a decade, maybe closer to two, years old.

         You wonder if they had seen past the mask too, and if that had scared them. Or maybe they hadn’t even noticed it in the first place given the wording of the final text. You knew the pain Keigo was going through, you lived through it every. Single. Day.

         You hated seeing it, but a small selfish part of you celebrated the fact that you had a chance again.

         Pathetic.

         You place your head in your hands, trying to clean your thoughts. You needed to be here for him again, and you were going to be.

         When he walks into the room, he notices you and slumps down into the couch, his eyes red, and his jaw clenched.

         But he wasn’t crying, and it didn’t look like he had either. The rest of his face would be messed up and red if that were the case.

         “You can let it out, Keigo.” You put a hand on his arm and rubbed comforting circles into his back, trying to ease him through it. “You don’t have to keep everything bottled up inside.”

         He laughs bitterly at that, and you’re taken aback. “Yeah, actually, I do. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

         “Alright. Then we can just rest, and have some tea, maybe put on some calming music. Does that sound good to you?”

         He nods, he can’t look up at you though. “Thanks, Y/N.”

         “No problem, Keigo. Be right back.”

         When you do come back, he’s just laying there, staring blankly in front of him. He looks lost and confused.

         “Have you ever felt like this,” he asks in a soft voice. A surge of anger hits you, after all this time he still hasn’t noticed. But you push it down and clear your throat instead.

         “Yeah. I’ve felt like that a lot in my life.”

         “I’m sorry.” He states simply. “It’s awful.”

         “Yeah,” you agree.

         The rest of the night the two of you sit quietly, sipping tea and listening to music. At some point the two of you end up sleeping on one another.

           The weeks pass, and Keigo starts to recover, as that starts to happen, the two of you start to slip back into your previous relationship. You know it’s a mistake, but you don’t stop it. You almost encourage it, because it feels good. It feels like he actually wants you and you can believe it for a few moments before it comes crashing down around you. You know you’re a rebound, even if Keigo himself doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing.

         So, there he is again, using you as a way to fill his life up to make up for the something he can’t have. Coping with his issues by having someone he could distract himself with, that he trusted and knew cared about his wellbeing.

         You wish you could say you hated it. But then you’d be a liar.

         Because you would take any of the time that he was willing to give to you. You were in deep, and you knew that, just wished you would have a way that you could stop it, rather than just going along for the ride, and hoping that he didn’t completely destroy your heart.

         Although that possibility seemed to be more and more likely these days.

           One day, you realize that you can’t do this anymore.

         One day, you think that you’re not going to allow yourself to do this to yourself or him anymore.

One day you decide that you have to take a full step back. No half done measures this time, the next time he called, you weren’t answering, and you weren’t listening. Maybe taking a complete break from the winged hero would somehow allow you to get over your feelings for him. Maybe the separation would do you some good, you could try and meet some new people, hang out with older friends.

         You have a plan, a way to bring it up to him, to say that you can’t do the whole song and dance with him anymore, you can’t play around because it’s messing with your head. You plan on telling him that you just need some space to rest and recover, and that you’ll be fine in a little while.

         It doesn’t happen that way.

         You’re in his apartment and you’re both eating some takeout, you’ve been on edge the entire night, and of course Keigo notices. He tries to tell you a few happy stories he’s seen that day, tries to give you space to relax. He leans in to kiss you and you panic.

         You jump up and say “I have to leave!” in a really panicked voice.

         “Woah hey, what the fuck’s going on?” He stands up, walking after you.

         “I just, I had a way to tell you- and I’m not ready and fuck I wish I didn’t have to say this but I just can’t do it!” You’re rambling, you know that, but you can’t seem to get your thoughts together, they’re bouncing around your head, refusing to slow down so you can’t catch them, and you’re sitting there panicking.

         “You need to talk to me,” he shouts, breaking you out of your daze.

         “I can’t do this anymore!” you cry out, all the bottled pain spilling up and gushing out. You can’t stop it, and you keep going. “I fell for you in week three, Keigo. WEEK THREE of our arrangement. And guess what! I still fucking love you, you absolute moron! You didn’t notice SHIT, and I didn’t say anything because I knew you didn’t feel the same way, but I knew you needed someone. And sometimes I fucking wish I didn’t, that I spoke up for myself and said something sooner because it’s brought me nothing but heartbreak after heartbreak, and so much insecurity!”

         He looks at you shocked. “Wait… you, but?”

         You laugh, a little hysterically, all the emotions bubbling over. There’s a strange sense of relief. It’s all out in the open now. “Fucking tell the press! I finally found the way to make the Hawks absolutely speechless!”

         “Wait, hold up, you need to slow down. I’m trying to understand what’s going on, and you aren’t exactly making this easier.” His eyes are wide, you’ve never seen him so completely and utterly lost. That was the final straw for you, and you start sobbing, tears streaming down your face as you try to keep your wails of pain inside.

         You put yourself together in silence, his sharp eyes trained on you, you can feel it. Your sobs and sniffles grow less and less frequent as you gain control.

         “I need space Keigo. I need to have space so I can get over you properly, and I couldn’t do it before, I thought I could! I just need to sort everything out, please.” You’re pleading with him, your voice drained and emotionless. “Just, don’t contact me please. Let me” You walk away before he can even answer, leaving him dumbfounded.

         He grabs your arm before you reach the door, a little rougher than he usually is. “You don’t get to say all these things without even giving me a chance to respond!” His usually calm exterior is flustered, a little unhinged with panic and anger.

         “I can! I told you how I feel! Nothing you say will be able to change how I feel right now Keigo! Nothing!” you feel your heart ripping to shreds as you see, for the first time in your one on one time in months, the mask returning as he looks it over too.

         “Got it.” He says short and clipped off. “Thanks for just cutting me off like everyone else did. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

         You go, quietly, unable to look him in the eye. The door slams behind you, with an ominous thud.

           The first time you gather up the courage to call him again to apologize, he doesn’t pick up. You expected that. You were hoping for that because you weren’t sure if you had the strength to say it to him.

         You tell him you’re sorry. You tell him you know you made mistakes, that you knew you didn’t communicate right and you should’ve trusted him with that. You tell him you miss him because you do. He’d wormed his way into the cracks in your heart that he’d had a part in making.

         You tell him you want to have a place in his life, and that he still has a place in yours, but you’re not ready yet.

         You don’t know if he got it until he calls you back. He leaves a message for you this time as you were in the shower when it rang.

         He tells you he understands now, even though it hurt like hell. He says he’s going to give you space, but would still leave you messages every once in a while. He says that of course you’re going to have a place in his life. He says that you’re the only person in a long time that had even bothered to get to see what was underneath his persona. He says that when you’re ready, to either call him back, or answer one of his calls.

         So that’s how it happens. On some good days and some bad days, Keigo calls you. You listen to every single one, multiple times. Your feelings don’t die down though. You don’t know what else you can do but wait. The sad messages tear at your heart, but you know you can’t be there for him right now properly.

         One of them you can’t help but hear and think that you need to call him, need to reach out to him. He’d sounded desperate in a way you hadn’t heard from him before and it chilled you down to the bone.

         But you don’t. You’re too scared of what you’ll do or say.

         On one of the days where you can’t sleep, you sit and stare at your ceiling, thinking about nothing much. Idle thoughts about the project you were working on, what you had to stock up on the next time you went shopping, the puzzle that you’d gotten stuck on in the current level of your video game.

         That’s when the ringing broke out on your bedside table. That ringtone. You still loved him, and he never called this late. You picked up the phone.

         “It’s two am, I know that, but I need you Y/N…”

         “Hawks? What’s going on. Are you ok?”

         He laughs loudly, “Fuck, no. Can I come over?” He almost manages to hide the waver in his voice.

         You sigh, putting a hand to your temple. “I’m sorry, but you can’t come to me anymore, you know that.” You say it softly.

         “You picked up.”

         “I did.”

         “You still love me.”

         “Goddamn it Keigo, yes! Is that what you really wanted to hear right now at two in the morning?”

         His tone switches to serious. “No. That’s not it at all. Please. It’s important.”

         “I could just hang up.”

         “You won’t.”

         You let out a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush.

         “Fine.” You give in with a groan and the starting of a stress headache. “I’m leaving the door unlocked for 10 minutes. That’s all you have.”

         “That’s way more than I need.” You hear the click of the receiver tone and you move your ass out of bed, going to go unlock the door. There you wait in your pjs, your arms crossed glaring at the door and daring it to open.

         Before the 10 minutes is up, it defies you and clicks open, and in he comes.

         “Hey.” He just looks at you, and he looks exhausted. “Thanks for listening.”

         You resist the urge to just run up to him and take him into your arms. He’d feel so good to cuddle. Instead you say in a wary voice; “What do you want Keigo, it’s late and I’m tired.”

         “I know,” he whispers. “I am too, but.” He swallows hard. “I needed to see you before. Before everything gets fucked up.”

         “What the hell are you talking about? And close the door it’s cold outside.” He follows your instructions without complaint and quietly.

         “You’re going to want to be sitting down for this,” he warns.

         You can see he’s not playing around, so you heed him and sit on the couch, and he sits on the chair, dragging it over so he’s opposite you.

         “First off. An explanation of what I mean.” You gesture at him to carry on. “Remember those villains I had to check up on? Well, they were actually mobilizing an attack on the Hero Commission HQ which is in the city.”

         “No way, seriously?” you can’t believe that they would get that bold so soon. It was insane, and yet, you believed it.

         “Well yeah. I came by to warn you, because there’s going to be so much chaos, and in that chaos, it’s more likely for you to either die or get hurt.” Your hands found their way to your hair, brushing through it nervously. “Hey, hey, listen Y/N” he goes to hold your shoulder’s and looks you in the eye. “The heroes have been preparing for a few months now, taking out some of the villains they can. Everyone’s going to have a much better chance of survival. But staying inside and not opening to door for anyone? That’s going to keep you safest. Understand?” You nod.

         Something niggled at the back of your mind though. “You said first thing.”

         “Yeah…”

         “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

         “You’re going to slap me.”

         “Well that’s not a fucking good sign.”

         He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I figured out why you’d shocked me so much with what you’d said. When we went our separate ways for a little while.”

         You felt your stomach sink. This couldn’t be good, why did he have to bring that up now. “Yeah?”

         “I didn’t trust my partner with anything that I’d shown you. You were the only person I’ve opened up too since… well a long time let’s put it like that. I haven’t really actually let myself feel things for a while, so I misunderstood them. I thought they were hot; I liked the look and the way they talked. I wasn’t falling love with them. I was in love with you the whole time and I didn’t realize it.” You felt like your heart stopped beating.

         “Keigo?”

         “Yes?”

         “You didn’t think to actually say that in one of your fucking messages?”

         “I didn’t think you were ready to hear it.”

         “I mean maybe not, but it would’ve saved a lot of headache!”

         “I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m learning, but I’m trying my best if you’ll take me?”

         “Of course, I will you stupid bird. It’s going to take work, but I know where I went wrong.”

         “Me too. I believe in us. Heh, us. I like the sound of that.” He has a goofy smile on his face.

         “Oh my god you’re such a dork.” You lean up to press a light kiss on his lips, which he eagerly responds too. “You look exhausted though. Let’s get you into bed, so you can protect the city hero.”

         “Sounds amazing to me.” He follows you into the room, stripping down and snuggling you.

         “I’m likely going to be gone by the time you wake up, y’know?”

         You sigh. “You better not die on me or I’ll kill you.”

         “For you? I’ll stay as safe as possible.”

         “Good.”

           The next day, everything was in chaos, just like Keigo had said it would be. You didn’t even need to leave your house to know that. You saw it on your phone screen as you stayed hidden in your closet, to terrified to move or do anything else. A couple buildings had fallen near you, but luckily your building had stayed safe.

         You don’t remember much else about that day. Fear. Praying that the people you cared about would be safe. Darkness. The sounds of massive explosions and destruction.

         Terrible.

           There were massive body counts of all different people, with varying quirks, lives, beliefs and goals. The damage was catastrophic. You almost couldn’t believe that it had been better than what would’ve happened if there wasn’t early intel and missions.

         You noticed though, that everyone was treated the same in death. Hero, civilian, villain, vigilante, all of them were buried properly, paid for by the Commission themselves. Some of the villains had escaped, there were lots more dead hero students than people wanted to admit, and everyone was more beaten down and broken than before.

         But…

         Nobody had seen or heard anything about Hawks though. It was as if he’d simply vanished into thin air, and the only thing that kept you sane? They hadn’t found his body.

         What about that cremation guy? The traitorous voice in your head spoke out. You told it to fuck off.

         Hawks, Keigo, was not dead. He couldn’t be. You’d finally reached an understanding!

         You refused to allow the possibility in your mind.

           It was a week later when you finally got some news. There was a call from the hospital, and you immediately, you picked up.

         “Is this Y/N Y/LN?”

         “Yes,” you practically shout. “Yes, I am.” You say a bit softer.

         “I’m calling about a Keigo Takami? Do you know this man?”

         “Yes, yes, I do, please is he alive?” you can’t keep the desperation from your voice.

         There’s a pause. “…Yes. He is alive. They’re trying to test to see what the extent of the damage is. You were the only other person other than his mother to be on his emergency contact list, yet you have no relation to him, were you aware of this?”

         “Yes,” the lie comes easily, despite the surprise bubbling up.

         He gives you the address and you promise to be there as soon as you can. You can deal with this, you think, he’s alive and so the two of you can work on it and fix it together like you’d planned.

         Except you couldn’t.

         Little to no brain function, they said. Halfway done the process to become a host body for a new nomu, they said. How were you supposed to fix everything together if Keigo was right there, but also completely gone?

         You collapsed into the chair beside his bed, looking over at him. The man you’d loved for over half a year. The doctors went silent, all of them leaving except for one, who stood silently. You reached out and held his hand in yours. Still softer and smoother than what a pro hero’s hand should be like. Still warm, like the first time you’d held it. You could even feel his pulse.

         It was almost funny; you were finished before the two of you even got started. You couldn’t even say that the two of you had ever truly been together, but that’s what made it hurt more, you think. Nobody would believe you, a random nobody? Dating the number two pro hero? Yeah what an attention whore.

         You sat there, tears building in your eyes, and spilling out

         “Keigo, please just give me one more message?” you whisper, crying harder now. “I’ll be waiting for it, so you better call me when you’re ready, because I’ll be waiting for you.”

[apexqueenie]

Hi sweet! Welcome to Tumblr ❤️ I was wondering if you could do a Bakugou x reader, where the read is quirk-less and hides it from him, then he finds out and angsty stuff happens, but it ends in fluff. Feel free to change bits ❤️

Yasssssssss sorry this took so long!!! I recently took a trip to Oregon and couldn’t write as efficiently as I wanted to, please enjoy!!!

The Bitchy Couple (Bakugou x Quirkless Reader)

Warnings: swearing (duh)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You remember the first time Bakugou laid eyes on you. It almost felt like it was yesterday. He tried to kill you then.

You roamed the middle school grounds, looking for someone to hang out with during lunch. The latest pop music blared in your eardrums as you lost yourself in your imagination, pretending you were in a music video or something. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t even see the three people that were headed your direction, equally distracted. The one in front was walking backwards, spouting loud nonsense to the two. He had no idea that you two were on a collision course straight for each other until BAM, your face collided into his shoulder blades.

“HEY, WHAT THE FUCK YOU NERD?” he turned around and yelled

Annoyed, you readjusted your headphones and scoffed. “You were the one walking backwards asshole, and you’ve got 2 goonies who coulda warned you, but I guess all you were too stupid!” You spat, walking off.

Back then, you were the only one who threw his shitty attitude right back at him. Bakugou didn’t wanna admit it, but he respected someone who could fight his fire with fire. Screw bullying the lower classmen, they weren’t as entertaining after a while. Besides, he found a new hobby, and it was to outdo you.

Almost every day, your conversations would end up something like this:

“Hey you wench, where’d you get those shitty headphones?”

“Up your mom’s ass, dickhead”

“Oh yeah? At least she has an ass. It looks like your back just extends to your legs”

Then, it escalated more into:

“Suck my dick, Bakubitch”

“How bout u suck mine? I’ve prolly got a bigger one anyways!”

“Nah, I know you’ve choked on waaaaaaaaaay more dick”

-And it got to the point that people were taking bets on who won the insult fest that day. In your school, you two were a famous duo, often being referred to as “the bitchy couple”, well, at least to the outsiders.

Away from the eyes of your classmates, Bakugou was a little more...sweet? You weren’t really sure what to call it, but it was a side of him that wasn’t always angry, someone who didn’t feel like he had to put on a show all the time. You worked hard to uncover that side of him, and damn were you proud. You did nearly everything to annoy him at first: telling everyone his most embarrassing secrets during lunch, purposely pairing with him during class projects- you even got your mom to contact his mom so they can arrange “study sessions” for you two. In return, he’d send the most embarrassing pictures of you to guys who asked you out, steal the shoes out of your locker so you’d walk to class with smelly feet, and blew up your jacket a couple of times during the winter. Eventually though, when the two of you walked home together alone and away from your audience, he’d lend you his jacket, promising to buy you a new one to replace the one he destroyed. During those class projects, you’d pour your all into obtaining a good grade when no one was looking. Underneath the mask that the two of you showed everyone, you guys were almost a couple.

Almost.

“Baka-gouuuuu” you hummed.

“What?”

You pouted your lips at him, earning yourself an aggravated blush from the gremlin.

“Disgusting” he said, “come to UA with me”

“Haha- wait what?” You stopped, completely baffled, “you want me to WHAT?”

Bakugou scoffed, not meeting your eyes. “You heard what I said.”

You scanned his face, looking for any sign of sarcasm or jokes...anything-but no, he was dead serious. That was completely out of character for him, even you were amazed at how sudden his behavior flipped. You looked down, thoughts spinning in your head as you processed the question. You were nervous, but why? He asked you to go with him, THE Bakugou asked you to apply at the same school when he basically bullied half the rest of the school out of even THINKING about it, so why aren’t you excited?

“Hero course” he said, and pointed to himself, “like me”

Then it clicked in your head, not once in the entire time the both of you had together did you ever show off your quirk like he did. Even when he’d challenge you, you’d always end up saying something like, “I don’t need a stupid quirk to make you cry like a little baby”. He’d think nothing of it and continue squabbling with you. No one, not even your own mother has ever outright told him you were quirkless. Maybe part of you was scared of what his reaction will be, judging from the way he treats Deku. Maybe some of it was shame from being a part of the minority in the world. You didn’t really know, and it was just something you never really wanted to find time for. Now, all that laziness was coming right back to bite you in the ass.

“Bakugou, I don’t really-“

“I’m gonna need someone to bully at UA...other than shitty Deku” he said, but his eyes told you what he really wanted. He wanted someone loyal, someone who would stick around through all his bullshit when no one else would. Even his goons were intimidated out of applying at UA. There wasn’t anyone left to compete against and keep Bakugou grounded except for, well, you.

You sighed, wondering how you were going to explain this to him.

“(Y/n)-“ he started again.

But you were faster, “I can’t apply to the hero course, Bakugou.”

He looked at you, confusion written all over his face. “What? Why?”

You looked down, averting his gaze. “Uhm, because... I can’t be a hero without a quirk, can I?” You say quietly.

It seemed like the world just stopped the moment those words left your mouth. The wind stopped shaking the leaves of the trees around you and Bakugou just...froze. You stayed silent, letting him take it all in.

His mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, but he turned away instead, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear.

“Baku, I can’t hear you.”

He turned around, rage in his eyes. He spoke low and aggressive, sending shivers down your spine, “so you were just a quirkless nerd this whole time? Did you hear me that time you little bitch?” He took a step towards you, towering over your smaller frame. You stumbled backwards and almost lost your footing, fear rushing through your veins. You were well aware of what Bakugou could do, but you never thought that you’d be on the receiving end. Is this what Bakugou was like as a true bully?

Bakugou scoffed at your reaction and continued advancing in your direction, “How noble of you, following me around and wasting time with pathetic insults when I could’ve been training. Do you feel proud of yourself? DO YOU?”

You were shocked. He hasn't talked to you like that before. Not like this. Tears threatened to start forming at your eyes, flushing your face red. Bakugou blinked, realizing what he just said. Deep down, he felt awful from the very first sentence, but his ego wouldn’t let him apologize. He turned around and walked on home, leaving you silently crying where he left you.

He nearly broke the hinges of the door off when he got home, ignoring his mother’s yells and climbing up to his room. He cursed over and over again, fighting his conscience and his ego at the same time. Dammit, he was supposed to be fighting villains, not his own head! On one hand, he just couldn’t believe that you would tolerate him calling quirkless people pieces of shit, but on the other hand, he thought maybe it was his fault for making you feel unwelcome at the topic. Either way, he wasn’t sure what to be angry about, so he got angry at everything.

“aaauuAAAAAGH” he yelled in frustration, as he slams his body down onto his bed. What the hell was he supposed to do now? You probably-no, DEFINITELY didn’t want anything to do with him by now. Still, he just couldn’t help but feel bad. It was gnawing at his chest relentlessly, urging him to go back and make things right, and that was exactly what he was gonna do.

“KATSUKI!!! WHY IS IT SO DAMN COLD IN THE HOUSE?” Mama Bakugou yelled. She waited for an angry response, but heard nothing. She walked up the stairs, expecting her son to have passed out already, but was instead greeted with an empty room...and an open window. “Stupid kid,” she scowled, “coulda walked out the front door ya know, or at least close the damn window.”

***

Bakugou didn’t break a sweat running to your house, but he panted hard. His mind was jam packed with the things he wanted to say to you, he just had to find the courage to say it. Hah, Bakugou Katsuki... afraid of something? That was a first. He climbed the side of your fence up along a pipe, just like he’s done a million times before. He’d come and leave before your mom could smother him with her home cooking and conversations about arranging a marriage between you and him. It honestly became a little too overwhelming, and he’d just sneak in and out whenever he’d have to tutor you on something.

He pulled the window open and slipped in only to find a lamp being swung at his face. He dodged nimbly and stopped your second swing with one hand, ripping the lamp out of your hands before you could try again. You turned around and grabbed a book off your desk, yeeting it at his face before kicking his stomach. The lamp made a thump as it landed on the floor, Bakugou now occupied with the gigantic math book. You frantically looked for something else to throw, knowing he recovered quickly in combat. Your eyes landed on a half eaten pork bun on your bedside dresser and you quickly lunged at it, managing to hit Bakugou’s forehead before he could see it coming.

“God DAMMIT stop tryna hit me with shit!” He yelled, shoving you on to your bed.

You staggered a bit before falling and growled in anger, “you have some fuckin nerve coming back here after what you said!” You yelled back.

“Honey what’s going on?” Your mother called, opening the door. You two were so caught up in arguing that you didn’t realize how much noise it was making...or the footsteps coming upstairs. Your mom gasped as she saw what happened. You lying on the bed, hair messy, shirt a bit ruffled...Bakugou standing over you just OOZING dominance...oh yeah, she got the picture. The WRONG picture.

She blushed bright pink, “oh uh, hi Katsuki, be careful you guys ok?!?! Okbyedontforfettouseprotection!” She said before slamming the door closed in a hurry and climbing down the stairs.

“MOM WAIT NO IT'S NOT LIKE THATUUUUUUUUUGH” you yelled and plopped your face into your hands. You weren’t even angry anymore at Bakugou, just frustrated.

You sighed, lifting your face from your hands and stared into empty space. Bakugou took the empty spot next to you, looking at the ground. There was a long and awkward silence between the two of you. Painfully long. Bakugou eventually sighed, making a move to break the extremely thick ice.

“I didn’t really mean what I said, (y/n)-“ he started.

“Then why did you say it?” You snarled.

Bakugou looked up at you, then back at the ground, fiddling with the fabric of his pants. “I was just, I dunno, angry at myself ok? Fuck off, wait no don’t fuck off, I...” he shook his head and took a big huff of air. Admitting his own wrongs wasn’t his forte, but it was definitely entertaining. You resisted the urge to smile a bit. He didn’t deserve that yet, not until he apologized. “I was just angry cuz...cuz I thought only people with quirks could be strong. But then you showed up and I thought you were probably the third strongest person I’ve ever met-“

“Third?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“After All Might, then me” he said, furrowing his eyebrows, “anyways, back to the point, look, I’m just sorry, for everything and I guess I shouldn’t have said that. I got upset at the fact that...I can’t beat your ass in hero course now. I can’t do projects with you anymore. And plus, if you aren’t going to UA anymore then-“

Bakugou was interrupted once again when you sat up, walked over to your desk, and dug through your drawer. You pulled a few pieces out before finding the one you wanted, then proceeded to wave it in the gremlin’s face.

“Who said I wasn’t going to UA?” You said, watching as his face just stared at the paper in awe.

“You’re enrolling in support?!” He yelled, taking the paper out of your hand.

“Yep” you said, giving him a small smile.

Bakugou lowered the paper and hung his head, “(y/n), I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

You sat back down and scooted over to lean on his shoulder, something he’d only ever let you do in private. “It’s ok Bakagou, I know you were only scared of losing me to some quirkless job like accounting or-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP IM NOT SCARED OF WIMPY SHIT LIKE THAT” he yelled, a small and almost unnoticeable blush appearing on his face.

You giggled, “sure whatever, look, I won’t be able to fight villains with you, but I can help you fight villains better by making support items for you. So I guess...that kinda makes me the hero behind the hero huh?” You smiled.

Bakugou scoffed, “Heh whatever, you better make me the best fuckin support items out of anyone there cuz I’m gonna need em to be number one, understand?!”

You scoffed back, “Number one my ass, maybe third place at the MOST.”

He growled as he whacked you with a pillow, making you shriek with delight. High school with this angry gremlin was gonna be interesting.