#<- guy who was already projecting onto his hawkes too much

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

oughh......

[bouncybongfairy]

Not A Peep

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You're a medic on Task Force 141 and Ghost finds out you have a thing for him when you get flustered stitching him up. Once you guys get back to the barracks, he fucks your throat under a desk.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Dom Ghost, Face Fucking, Rough Smut, BJ Under Desk

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was easy to separate yourself from all the stories being told while studying to be a combat medic. Tales about women falling for soldiers and then being immortally traumatized from watching the war take its effect on him. Whether it be emotionally or physically, the horror stories were gruesome. One teacher talked about how she had to treat her fiance after he’d been shot in the arm, apparently it fucked her up for a while. In a way, you would mock the fact that anyone would put themselves in that situation. Falling in love with someone with such a high risk job. It seemed like common sense not to put your heart on the line, especially when it could affect your job. 

That was until I met Simon and you started to understand that those wives tales weren’t so far fetched. The two of you didn’t talk much but it always felt like there was so much tension. Constantly making eye contact, becoming flustered and tongue tied whenever he spoke to you. Avoiding him when you could, not liking the feeling of your heart racing when you did. He held so much emotion in his eyes, like he was projecting his thoughts through eye contact. On a recent mission, a bullet brushed past the area above his hip bone; creating a laceration that needed stitches. Barding into the tent and pulling his pants down and shedding his gear.

 Immediately you get on your knees, pulling everything you needed to treat him out of your tactical vest. Looking up just before starting the first stitch, he was already looking down at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were narrowed onto you. Blood was running down, trailing down the contour of his v-line. Hands started shaking slightly, especially as he started to moan and curse in pain. Even though you were fully aware his reaction was from discomfort, you couldn’t but imagine if it… wasn’t. 

He was watching you like a hawk, swiveling his head to watch you whenever you grabbed gauze. All hope that he didn’t notice you acting flustered was ditched when you started feeling dizzy, swaying a little. He grabbed your arm to prevent you from falling, your partner taking over. Now back in the barracks, you took a long hot shower. Trying to figure out why you got so in your head, the water began to run cold. Prompting you to get out and get dressed, walking back into your room. Ghost who was stripped of gear, laying back on the bed supporting his weight with his elbows. 

“Do you need me to redress that for you?” you asked, assuming he was waiting to see you about his wound. 

“No. Do you need me to undress you?” he asked, sitting up. 

“I- What?” you asked, taken off guard. 

“Do you. Need me to. Undress you?” he asked slower, like you were too dumb to answer the question. 

“I don’t understand-” you began saying. 

“No no, I saw you today. The way your eyes widened when you were on your knees in front of me. The desperation and neediness was so potent I could practically smell it on you. I could have taken you right there if I wanted, forced myself into your throat. So hot and bothered you couldn’t even do your job, I consume your thoughts. Don’t act like I don’t” he said, backing you against the desk that was in the corner. 

“I don’t-” he interrupted. 

“Wanna say something you regret,” he said, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Dipping it into your mouth, feeling around to see your reaction, “I think it safe to say that if you didn’t want my cock, you wouldn’t be sucking my finger like a whore. Would you?” he asks, you shake your head and in response he gives you a sharp smack on the cheek.

“Would you?” he asks again, giving you a chance to correct your answer. 

“Yes sir,” you say, melting at the way he looked at you. 

“Good girl, get under the desk.” He said, which you did without hesitation. 

He unzipped his fly, struggling for a second to free his member but finally got there. Sitting down in the office chair, rolling into the small space under the desk. Completely trapping you inside the small space. No longer being able to see above his shoulders, not that it mattered when his cock was right in front of you. Every time your lips finally encased his tip, he would use his hand and pull it away. You reach up and try to take his length into your hand. His voice booming through the room as he pulls away a couple inches to look you in the eyes. 

“Put your fucking hand down, you haven’t done anything to deserve it,” he said, scooting back in, using his hand to guide your head down. 

After all the teasing, the feelings of his cock pushing past your lips felt like heaven. Ever since you met him all you could think about was him ravaging you. Using your body for whatever he wanted. A loud groan coming from the back of your throat, his other hand was stroking your cheek. Slowly starting to push your head down further, you gagged which made him chuckle. 

“Fuck, I knew i’d eventually have you gagging around my dick,” he cooed, letting his head fall back. You looked up, now being able to see his exposed jawline. Reaching your hand down and starting to play with yourself. Spreading your wetness around and circling your clit. Moaning as drool and pre-cum started sliding down his shaft. He grabbed your hair and starting to fuck your mouth. His eyes were rolling back, feeling feral hearing the wet slobbering and slapping sounds. There was a knock at the door which made you squeal and try to pull away. 

“Shhhhh!” He hisses before clearing his throat and answering the door. However just before he does, he presses your head down, applying pressure with both hands on the back of your head. Forcing your lips all the way down to the base of his cock. 

“Yeah!” he yelled, Soap opened the door but remained in the doorway. 

“Have you seen y/n? We have training soon,” Soap asked while you were digging your fingernails into his boots, swallowing around his length which hurt slightly.

“Yeah, I think she went to get some fresh air,” Ghost said, stars were forming in your vision. Soap thanked him and promptly exited and Ghost finally let you pull back. Gasping for air and wiping the tears out of your eyes. He moaned as the cold air hit his dick just after getting used to your hot throat. 

“That’s a good girl, just breathe. Yeah, you’re a such a good fucking girl,” he snarled and pulled you back down on you. 

He stood up and balled his fist in your hair, and pinning his hands onto the top of the desk. Essentially locking you into place and he obliterated your throat. Making sure your nose was pressed into his base with every thrust. Not bothering to pull his cock out as he started came. Warm cum flooding down your throat and into your stomach. He pulled out, not wasting any time putting his dick away. You rested your upper body on the now empty chair that sat in front of you. Ghost squatted down and grabbed your wet chin to look up at him before speaking, 

“Firstly, you should thank me for feeding you before training. Secondly, I didn’t make you cum because you left scratch marks on my boot,” he said, walking out of the room.

[pastelwitchling]

I love the way you write Michael so much

He's protective and jealous and possessive but he's not controlling

They're codependent but not in a toxic way

Like you write a real relationship not some 2 dimensional crap

Kind of a prompt? I loved your one shot that was Alex being bait for a the military guy, but Michael and alex WERENT together yet. It would be so cool to see your take on a similar situation but now they're married, bonus if Kyle is also overprotective and just as mad as Michael

@brittz-2123

***

                “No,” Michael demanded. “No way.”

                “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Kyle groaned, arms crossed, “but I agree with Guerin.”

                “Told you they’d love it,” Alex said dryly from where he was bent over a table, studying something on his laptop screen.

                “Alex, no,” Michael argued. “We’re not using you as bait for some Project Shepherd military freak.”

                “Besides,” Kyle chimed in, “you destroyed their entire underground op years ago, what’s one stray soldier going to do?”

                “Plenty,” Eduardo sighed, standing at Alex’s side, his eyes also narrowed at the screen. “Project Shepherd’s entire objective was to destroy the alien race from the inside. One wave is all it takes to start a flood.”

                “Fine,” Michael growled, “whatever, but why does Alex have to go?”

                “Because I’m the only one they’ll trust,” Alex said, voice frighteningly hollow and eyes even more so as he said it. “Word might’ve gotten around that Gregory was the one who shot dad, Clay’s off the grid as usual, and Flint’s just starting to get his head on straight, so I don’t want him near this.” He met Michael’s gaze, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I call myself.” He looked down again as his smile dimmed. “I’m still a Manes. Nothing’s changed.”

                Michael clenched his jaw. He hated this. He hated that Alex sounded so empty, like he knew that the Manes family name would follow him around forever and was resigned to the burden. He hated it worse that he couldn’t do anything about it. No matter how tightly he held onto Alex, however many kisses he pressed into his skin, how fiercely he promised him he loved him—especially on Alex’s worse days—Jesse Manes’s legacy kept following him around.

                Even when he was dead, the bastard was still giving his son orders.

                “That’s not true,” he said, and came around the table to grip Alex’s shoulders. “Everything’s changed, Private. For one thing, you’re not fighting this damn battle alone anymore. I’m right here, every step of the way. You’re not doing it alone, Alex.”

                Alex’s expression softened, and he took hold of Michael’s wrist. It felt like a reassurance to the both of them. Like Alex was trying to calm the distress in Michael’s heart as much as his own. Always protecting him, always looking after him, always there for him.

                That, Michael realized miserably, is what he needs from me right now.

                “Say . . .” he started slowly, “say I’m okay with this. Would we be close by? And I mean seconds away, if that?”

                “We’d be watching him like a hawk,” Eduardo promised, “with men on the ground, too.”

                “Then that’s where I’ll be,” Michael said. “The ground, right next to him.”

                “Guerin,” Alex shook his head, “that’s too dangerous—”

                “I’m invoking my husband card here, Private,” he argued. “We either do this together, or not at all.”

                Alex’s eyes warmed, and he chuckled under his breath. “Michael . . .”

                Kyle sat on the edge of the glass table. “And I’m invoking my best friend card.”

                Michael pointed, mouth already opened to argue, then deciding it wasn’t the time, merely said, “Later.”

                Kyle shrugged, unimpressed. When Michael turned back to Alex, he saw him looking from him to Kyle. He smiled, touched and amused.

                He cleared his throat. “You guys know I can handle it by myself, right?”

                “That’s kind of the point, Manes,” Kyle said with a fond shake of his head, and Michael’s grip tightened on Alex’s shoulders.

                “You’ll never have to again.”

***

Happy Malex Monday ❤

[shinescape]

Hawk Eyes

Bodyguard Seonghwa x Reader

Requested!

note: i might have went overboard with this one (jk). Thank you for the request anon and enjoy the read!

At this point, you thought that the stares and murmurs would die down but apparently not so. The other students really made it obvious that they were whispering about you or more like the person following behind you.

It was ridiculous but your father being the protective person he was assigned you a personal bodyguard. You honestly didn’t want it but the Park Family has a history of working with your family and Seonghwa was no exception.

He took his job quite seriously since he was trained at a very young age. Both of you went to the same school and even then he would make sure that no one bullied or pulled pranks on you.

One time you walked into the classroom and a bucket of flour poured onto you had him furious. He was still in training back then but somehow he already ingrained in his head that he needed to protect you at all cost.

You were currently walking in the busy hallways to your morning class. The crowd always made you feel anxious and uncomfortable but knowing that Seonghwa was right behind put you at ease.

A group of boys were goofing around as they approached you and one of them accidently pushed you to the lockers with his body.

Instead of hitting the lockers, the side of your head was cushioned by a palm. Thanks to Seonghwa’s fast reflexes and close proximity, your head was saved but the group of boys wasn’t.

Seonghwa stood in front of the group and glared at them, he knew they were trying to act like nothing happened when the guy who pushed you knew exactly what he did was on purpose. He was taller and looked way too intimidating for them to leave without at least a bruise.

But you stepped in and said, “He’s in a bad mood. It’s best that you leave or he’ll slam your head next.” You smiled at them and that was enough to make them turn back from where they came from and ran away.

“You should have made them apologise.”

“Nah, it’s not like I’m going to see them again anyway.”

You still find it bothersome how your father made Seonghwa follow you to college every single day, like a shadow. Before, he would wear those black formal suits and would sit in every class you had which was seriously uncomfortable.

People were wondering if your family was dealing with some kind of underground business and thus making you friendless up till now.

After having to negotiate with your father almost ten times, he agreed that Seonghwa was to only wait outside of every class and wear normal clothes like any young adult his age.

Your assigned bodyguard was surprised when he knew about the new arrangement and you can’t believe he reacted as if you’ve abandoned him when it’s not. It took him some time to get used to it and would accidentally follow you inside the lecture hall like he was now.

You turned on your heels and lightly pushed him out of the door. “Hwa, please go and eat breakfast or waste time at the mall while I finish. It’s four hours of class.” You said tiredly, this was not the first time and he would answer the same thing again and again.

“I’ll wait out here. Text me if you need anything.” He gave you a professional smile that you wished he would not since it felt so weird when you know each other for so long. But being in this line of job, he had to do it and he insisted on it.

You grumbled knowing that he’ll stand right outside and do nothing but glare at anyone that passed by. He wasn’t paranoid, more like protective after how many incidents you got involved back in school.

Four hours passed by and everyone including you were sluggish as hell. Your back aching, arms sore and tired from all the note taking you did.

The moment you stepped outside, Seonghwa was there looking exactly how he did earlier. A smile on his face as he stepped near you. “Ready to go home?” He asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on.

“Don’t you get tired waiting out here?”

He shook his head and before he could reply, you answered for him. “You were trained for this, I get it. Let’s go grab lunch, I’m hungry.” Seonghwa nodded and followed behind you like he always does.

“Seonghwa, you can walk beside me, there’s no one besides us.” You slightly turned around and grabbed his wrist and forced him to walk beside you.

He nibbled on his lower lip as he tried to remain his composure, eyes once in a while went down to his wrist that had your fingers wrapped around it. This is fine. I’m not crossing any lines, he reminded in his head.

Seonghwa was busy checking his schedule, your schedule to be exact when he heard the heavy doors across from him being pushed open. Your classmates swarmed out and he scanned everyone in search of your figure. His brows furrowed when he didn’t see you coming out.

He made his way through the crowd and went inside the hall, where you were seen talking with someone at the front row seats. He let out an exasperated sigh and made his way towards you. His sharp eyes watched how you and this person he doesn’t know talking so casually, unaware that everyone had left the room.

Seonghwa made sure his presence was known as he stood close to your side, the guy you were with immediately noticed him. He tapped your arm and motioned for you to look behind. There stood your bodyguard with a straight face on, glaring right at the stranger.

“Oh you’re here. I have a project to discuss with him so we'll probably head to the library then have dinner if we get to finish things early. You can go back first.” You know so well he’s not going to leave you with this person until late at night. But it was worth the try.

Seonghwa on the other hand felt irritated the moment you mentioned the guy’s name and how you had a plan up till dinner. It was unscheduled and he didn’t like one bit about it.

“I’ll inform your father what you told me. Also, I’m staying with you until you finish.” He said and for the first time ever, he left you first to wait outside. That caught you off guard but you tried not to think about it too much.

Your bodyguard who was seated a table away watched every single action of yours and your project partner. He noticed how you would cover your mouth when you laugh at a joke the male made or how you keep on adjusting your outfit when talking.

You almost never behaved that way around him and suddenly showing this side to someone that’s not him, irked him. He then realised how he hated what he was seeing and felt something he never felt before.

He felt possessive of you. After spending time together for so long and being the only friend and shoulder to lean on, he had developed a new feeling towards you. It was probably not new at all, just hidden deep down in his heart finally bursting out due to this new stranger.

His fingers curled into fists when your partner casually patted your head after you managed to complete a question. He’s being way too touchy and why do I feel like interrupting them and causing a ruckus? Seonghwa quietly shook the thought away and continued on watching the both of you.

The ride back home was awfully quieter than usual and it made you uneasy. You stole glances at Seonghwa who drove in silence and never uttered a single word at you.

When the both of you arrived back home, he usually bothered himself to open the front doors for you but instead shut the door right in your face.

Something was totally not right and you hate to admit but an upset Seonghwa was a hard one to deal with. “He’s probably tired. We have been out since morning.” You tried to assure yourself and went inside and spotted him on the second floor.

You ran up the stairs, catching up with his retreating figure that did not turn once at all to look at you. He clearly heard the door opening and you running up the stairs but he ignored it.

“Is everything okay, Hwa?” You manage to grab his wrist and try to peer at his face when he jerks his hand away harshly from you.

“No, I’m upset. Go to your room, it’s late.” He curtly said and left you in the hallway alone.

Inside the room, Seonghwa threw himself on the bed and covered his face with the back of his hand. He wanted to beat himself so bad for being so harsh to you. I should have said everything was fine like always, not making things worse like this. He grumbled to himself as more thoughts flooded his head.

He never felt this troubled before but when he finally came to sense that he wanted you all to himself, everything jumbled up. Before, it felt like nothing more than protecting his employer’s child but not anymore.

After a while, you were done with your night routine and was already in bed but your mind was still awake. Thinking of Seonghwa and what he said earlier. “No, I’m upset.”

You kicked the covers away and made a bee-line to your bodyguard’s room as quiet as possible. Making sure no one was near the staircase, you ran towards the other side of the hallway towards his bedroom.

You knocked a couple of times and even twisted the knob but it was locked. Praying hard that you won’t wake anyone up, you knocked even harder and finally heard a sound coming from inside.

Seonghwa unlocked the door and thought it was one of the maids and got annoyed. “What is it?” He voiced with a frown until he saw you standing in front of him, staring and mouth slightly agape.

The both of you then heard voices coming from the corner and without thinking he pulled you inside and trapped you behind the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to-” You words were cut off when another set of knocks came and he knew who it was.

“Young man, do you have anything to wash?”

“No, I don’t. Goodnight.” Seonghwa was about to shut the door when the lady stopped with her hand. “You sure, I changed the sheets two weeks ago. Also why are you not letting me in?” She pushed the door harder and it made you yelp and hit him from the impact.

“What was that?” She asked. “It’s just my stomach. I’m not feeling well.” His other hand wrapped around the back of your head making sure you don’t move again. The action made you still as you took in the fact that he was really close to you.

Seonghwa finally closed the door and let out a sigh. He then tipped your chin up to make you look him in the eyes. “Why are you not wearing a shirt?” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth.

“Uh, it’s my room?” He answered back.

“But, you’re living in my house.” You raised a brow at him.

“Should I make it my house too then?” He taunted back.

“What?!”

You couldn’t help but shout in surprise at the words he just said. You thought he was joking but when he stepped back and went to sit at the edge of his bed, messing up his hair. You knew this was more than that.

“I like you...no I love you. I don’t even know myself.” He stopped for a moment. “But what I know is that I hate seeing you getting shy with that project partner of yours.” He expressed which sound more like he was murmuring to himself rather than to you.

You furrowed your brows and can’t help but like the fact that he was bothered by something like that. Seeing him all frustrated with nothing but a pair of sweatpants was sure a sight.

But shortly after, it made you question yourself as well. You walked closer and stood directly in front of him and he looked up at the mention of his name.

Your palms found their way to his bare shoulders, resting there as you closed your eyes and went down to kiss him. Seonghwa was caught off guard by your sudden move and took your face in his hand, ripping it away from him.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He sounded genuinely worried.

“I just wanted to confirm my feelings. I’m sorry for suddenly kissing you like that.” You were about to move away when he pulled you back to your initial spot. He made you sit on his lap, legs wrapped around him.

You were confused by his sudden actions when just a minute ago he had pushed you away, reminding you that it wasn’t right to do what you both did.

“Did you feel anything after stealing a kiss from me?” His tone low as his alluring eyes met yours. You gulped at the sudden change in demeanor.

Not knowing what to say or react, you let him have his way with you. His fingers tapped its way on your neck before holding your jaw in place. He liked how it fits nicely in his hands as he pulled your face closer to his.

“You should answer when I ask.”

You didn’t know what took over you as you slowly thread your fingers in his hair and crushed your lips with his. He let out a moan and deepened the kiss, hands now gripping the side of your frame. You were starting to get out of breath, never would have imagined kissing him like this would be so addicting.

You peck his lips once more before pulling away, eyes half lidded as you look at him. His face flushed and the way he was breathing through his lips wasn’t helping at all.

“That answers everything, don’t you think?” You breathed out, hands resting on his broad shoulders again.

Seonghwa then unwrapped your legs around him, pushing you down on the bed before doing the same. He gazed at your features as a finger swiped the bottom of your lips.

“You better tell that guy to not get too touchy or I can’t guarantee his life.”

His pupils were round and innocent now despite looking like it could suck you in whole earlier. You scoffed at his words and played with his fringe that was covering his eyes. “Forget about him. What are we going to do next?” you asked, eyes roaming his beautiful face.

Seonghwa smirked and that's when you know he interpreted your words differently. “I’m going to do whatever I want and make sure you can’t attend class tomorrow.” You sighed at him and lightly punched his chest.

“I meant about my father, your job as my bodyguard. I don’t think he’s going to take this nicely.” You informed him, already knowing the fate of your relationship after this.

“I’ll take care of that. What you need to worry about is what’s going to happen right now.” Seonghwa's eyes were clearly filled with lust as his hand went under your shirt and watched how you tried to hold back from his cold touch.

You were starting to feel ways you could never imagine and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. It will be a long night and surely there’s no turning back on this.

A sneaking attempt, an unexpected confession and a stolen kiss had led you to this.

Nothing else matters as for now, just you and your life time bodyguard, Park Seonghwa.

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 325 Spoiler Analysis: United As One

The week has passed and so has summer.  Damn...  At least Shonen Jump’s got my back.  And Deku is finally welcome home thank god.  Now, give this kid a damn good meal, sleep, and a motherfreaking bath already.  NGL, this week has been busy for me and I’m tired AF, so I think I’ll only go over the parts that stuck out to me:

Man, god bless Kota for running up to Izuku to help him!  This kid has been through so much yet he still decided to run up to Izuku to help him.  He’s sobbing his eyes out too 😭.  I’m pretty sure he’s apologizing for not moving during the Muscular fight (in Kota’s defense, Izuku would’ve probably died if not for Kota) and he’s telling Izuku that “I am here” (OF COURSE HE SAYS THOSE WORDS) so Izuku doesn’t need to cry anymore.  And to top it all off, Kota calls Izuku “Nii-chan” which I’m pretty sure means older brother 😭❤️ If Horikoshi brings Eri in next week, I’m going to cry waterfalls dammit

The Fox Lady is so kind and pretty dammit Horikoshi give her a name already!  She’s so happy to see Deku again and thanks him for saving her.  Even calls him “Mr. Crybaby Hero” 😭  The way she picks him up like a small child is both sweet and funny too ☺️ I await the fanart!

A-AND THEN SHE AND KOTA HUG DEKU 😭💚💚💚💚

On a more serious note, the Fox Lady mentions that she got rejected from a lot of evacuation centers because they don’t accept mutant types like her.  Of course discrimination still exists in this world.  Of freakin’ course.  Just like in the real world...  And considering that Horikoshi mentioned that Shoji would have a role in the future and also show his face finally in some interviews (Horikoshi also teased that he wanted to give Shoji a bigger story YEARS ago), I have a feeling this subject will be brought up again in the future.

The Old Star Man from the first chapter/episode who encourages Deku to be a hero returns this chapter to give a big speech to the crowd.  This guy is a real one ✊.  Basically, he says that the crowd needs to shut up and understand what’s going on for a hot minute.  That everyone projected All Might’s “Perfect Heroness” onto the every other hero that they all forgot that Heroes are just people at the end of the day.  If the people don’t support the heroes still fighting now, they’re screwed.  Ultimately, it’s the civilians who have to save the heroes when they’re hurting.  Not just other heroes.  Horikoshi, please give this man a name too, he’s long deserved it.

Then the boy in the All Might shirt who’s been protesting for the past 2 chapters says something reasonable for once.  His views on Deku have been mixed around thanks to all the things that have been rumored about Deku on the internet and word of mouth.  Which kinda justifies his anger and doubt, but he still should’ve have been a jerk to Deku and Ochako.  

Deku finally speaks a full sentence declaring that he and his friends and mentors will make everything ok again.  I can’t wait to see that promise be fulfilled, my son 💚

We change focus to Shoto, Endeavor, and Hawks (who are confirmed to have been outside the barrier for the past few chapters; I was wondering about that).  They’re finally being allowed into UA for now.  Unfortunately the 3 of them probably would’ve caused more discourse if they entered while the civilians were rioting.  Endeavor and Hawks from the press release and just Shoto existing really.  Please let them stay there permanently.  

Gotta say that Endeavor looks so freaking tired throughout this whole thing.  The Toya thing + The Deku thing must be weighing extremely heavy on him.  I do feel bad for him honestly.  

Hawks tells Endeavor how OFA has, in a way, connected everyone together.  All Might to Deku to Class 1-A back to Deku to Ochako to the people.  And if the people can truly care for others, then the future will be bright and heroes will have all the time in the world just like Hawks wanted at the very beginning of his story.

There’s this really beautiful double page spread (teased in one of Vol. 31′s extras) of the civilians offering their umbrellas to the kids.  Kirishima’s crying happy tears, Kota and Mineta are running up to Deku, the All Might Shirt dude is offering Deku his umbrella, Kaminari is smacking Bakugo over the head 😂, Iida’s holding Deku’s hand to guide him, and INKO FINALLY GETS TO BE WITH HER SON THANK THE LORD 💚😭 

Shoto 💙 Our resident pretty boy is looking at this scene and ultimately decides that he and Endeavor are going to stop Dabi together.  He decided this before back in the hospital, but I think his decision is more final here.  I really need him to properly reunite with Deku though and I’m sure they have A LOT to talk about.

AND WE FINALLY GET TO PROPERLY SEE AIZAWA AFTER GOD KNOWS HOW LONG AND HE’S SO HANDSOME 🖤 MY MAN IS LOOKING GOOD WITH AN EYEPATCH?!?  And he does have a prosthetic robot leg and apparently Mirko does too.  God, he looks so tired, but he’s so proud of his kids Imma cry again 😭

Anyway, it’s looks like he’s still recovering from the war in the hospital and apparently also there to help with the whole Kurogiri situation, who’s been transferred to a research lab.  It seems like Aizawa’s trying to bring back Shirakumo somehow.  If they do, I wonder if Shirakumo will even still be alive.  We can assume that he might still be alive since he did tell the Heroes about the hospital, but it’s uncertain.  It would be nice to have that sweet soul back 🌤

Also, the Heroes are aware that Himiko Toga’s still out there and they’re taking extra persuasions to make sure she isn’t one of the refugees.  They also know her limits too, so that’s good.

The last panel is of All Might standing outside of UA, but his back is turned against them.  He has this uncertain look on his face too.  I honestly can’t read it for the life of me.  I gotta wonder why he isn’t walking in there now that everything seems to be ok.  Maybe he doesn’t want to accidentally cause more problems?  The public did start to hate him with the whole “I Am Not Here” sign on his statue in Kamino...  Deku does need him though.  Ugh, I’m so worried for this man.

And I do have a theory.  It’s a long shot and a dark one: What if Toga found Stain while running off and they teamed up together.  Then Stain found and took All Might captive and Toga took some of All Might’s blood to transform into him and now she’s the one outside of UA.  I can’t say if All Might is dead or not.  I really, really, REALLY, don’t want him to be dead.  Stain says that All Might is the only one truly worthy of being a Hero, so I doubt he would actively kill All Might.  But, god there’s so many death flags surrounding this man.  I don’t even know if he’s going to make it through the entire series tbh.

The end chapter teaser says “The rain continues on...” so I doubt this pain is over.  We have a bit of a calm, but I am so anticipating the next storm.

Me waiting for even more pain:     

[harryspet]

dark peter parker x innocent naive reader (or ofc it doesn’t matter) non-con fic?

CAMP KISSLESS | peter parker

[WARNINGS] dark peter parker x reader (Y/N), virgin reader, noncon sex, outdoor/car sex (public?), peter isn’t very friendly neighborhood spidery in this

A/N: I’ve wanted to do a camp au for a little while so that’s why I chose this setting! This ended up being way longer than I thought it would be. Read at your own risk.

In which your the new camp counselor and you’re excited to start your job but Peter has other plans for your summer.

word count: 2.7k

It was gonna be a great summer. 

It wasn’t your first summer at Camp. No, your parents drove you to upstate New York every summer since you were eight and you stayed at Camp Moonfall for three weeks out of the summer. You always made the best memories there but, now that you were older, you were saving up for college next semester. Now that you were eighteen, you felt responsible enough to get a job and of course, Peter put in a good word for you. 

You remembered the summer before, all the counselors had let you join them around the fire since you were older. That’s when the game of never have I ever happened and that’s when you changed the way you looked at Peter. You always thought he was cute but with him smiling around all his friends, the firelight illuminating his skin, you developed a small crush. He was a year older than you and you remembered saying how you were going to miss him during your Senior Year. 

He smiled at you, of course, and your heart fluttered. 

It was in that game that everyone learned your secret about how you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet. They looked at you, shocked, and you would’ve preferred if they had just teased you rather than pitied you. You didn’t care that you hadn’t had your first kiss because you were waiting for magic. You wanted to settle for nothing less. 

“So who’s first on your list?” Peter had asked you and you raised an eyebrow. He turned his marshmallow over the fire, letting it brown, “Your kiss list? Who’s your dream first kiss?”

“Thor, I think,” You joke to Peter and he only rolled his eyes. 

“Haha, Y/N,” He spoke sarcastically, “But I’m serious, who’s number one?” For a moment, looking in his eyes, you could’ve sworn he wanted you to say him. 

“I don’t have one,” You slouched back in your chair, “Whoever it is, I want them to be the one I marry.”

All of their eyes turned to you, even Peter as if you had said something offensive, “What?” you asked. 

“You should save it for as long as you can, Y/N?” MJ said across from you, easing the tension, “High school boys are Satan's spawn. And I hear college boys aren’t far off.”

+

For the first day of camp, your outfit consisted of a tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. You had dreamed of carrying the clipboard you now possessed. Along with the wooden whistle around your neck, you felt complete.

MJ pointed at a gray minivan parked in a long line of cars where parents were unpacking their kids, “Y/N, can you check them in?” You immediately nodded 

She remembered her training, all eight hours of it, and took a deep breath as she approached the family. The Dad was lugging things out of the trunk and the mom was rustling around with her triplets. 

“Good morning, campers! I’m Y/N” You greeted them with a wide smile, hands tight around your clipboard. The kids didn’t seem to care much about you but you could get used to that, not every child was gonna fall in love with you, “Hope you all are excited for the best three weeks of your year. Can I get the last name?”

“We’re the Nelson’s,” The woman muttered, clearly not excited to hear your chipper voice this early in the morning. She pointed to each child and named them off. 

You looked down the long list of names and easily found the three Nelson’s. You took a look at each boy, knowing you’d have to remember all of them, “There, found ya! Are these all of their things?”

The father nodded, three suitcases and several pool noodles on the ground, “You got a bellhop, Betty?” He spoke, clearly not bothered to know your name. 

You looked down, still trying to smile wide as you crossed off the names, “Uhm, if you carry your things over there, someone will be there to carry their things to their cabin. Someone will also be there to take the boys down by the lake and they can join in the welcome festivities. You guys can say goodbye there and that’s when your vacation begins, Mom and Dad.”

You expected a smile or a nod of approval but you got cold stares, “We want to make sure they get settled in and see where they will be living. You can’t expect us to say goodbye now.”

Your smile fell a little bit but you kept your composure, “Well, here at Camp Moonfall, we want to keep the goodbyes short. When you took the tour, you were able to see the campsite. It’s very safe. We just find it’s easier for kids to adjust without the big, emotional goodbyes. It helps the homesickness when you start the fun right away,” You thought your smile would somehow lift their spirits but it only crushed yours. 

“Could you stop smiling like an idiot? You’re an adult, aren’t you? They must be hiring the mentally incompetent here, Diane,” The father said to the mother. 

Your heart sank and your lips parted to say something but the words didn’t leave, “I’m going to that cabin, sweetheart. Do you know what it’s like to give birth to triplets? I spent nine months with these kids and you aren’t gonna rip them away from me. I was in labor for twenty hours!”

“I-I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just telling you the camp policy. We just find that it works best-”

The dad interrupted, mimicking your voice, “We just find that it works best. God, Diane, I told you this was a bad idea.”

“My mother said this would be a good experience for them!” The Mom yelled back at the husband, she held her boys closer to her, “The boys are not staying here. It seems like there’s something in the water here anyways …” The woman scowled at you. 

“I-I can g-get my supervisor-”

“And now she’s stuttering,” The father rolled his eyes, starting to grab their things and put them back in trouble, “Get in the car boys.”

How could your first time at this have gone so wrong? You clutched the clipboard to your chest, tears stinging your eyes. 

A second later you felt a hand on your shoulder, “What’s going on, Y/N?” He looked at the family then back at you. 

You just shook your head. He could tell you were about to start bawling, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Go back to your Cabin and collect yourself,” You nodded and instantly walked away. 

You heard Peter talking to the family, hoping to solve the issue so that the boys didn’t miss out on camp because of their crazy parents.

+

“I did it. I saved the triplets,” Peter entered the girl counselor’s cabin, a soft grin on his face. He saw where you were laying on your twin bed and sat down on the edge, “I might regret it later because the funny looking one with the mo-hawk looks like a biter.” 

You didn’t laugh, just pressed your face further into the pillow. Peter’s hand rested on the small of your back. You felt him start to rub circles there and that level intimacy enticed you as much as it scared you.

“I suck,” You spoke but it came out muffled. 

“You don’t suck,” Peter insisted, “They sucked, hard,” That made you laugh. You turned your body to look at him and his hand moved to your waist, “You’re gonna have a good rest of the day. You’re gonna go swimming, eat hotdogs, and play way too many rounds of hide and seek. It’s gonna be awesome and you’re gonna have to perk up if you want to steal my title as everyone’s favorite counselor.”

You snorted, “Really? I recall Ned being everyone’s favorite last year.”

Peter faked a frown, “The man can make a mean s’ more.” 

Absentmindedly, your hand touched his and you moved it away quickly. Too quickly, “You’re right,” you coughed awkwardly, “Today will be good.”

Something clicked, you could see it in his eyes that something had shifted. 

“Do you want to come on a drive with me tonight, after everyone’s in bed. I have a view I want to show you.”

“Isn’t that not allowed?”

“I’m head counselor, Y/N. Plus, I’m Spiderman. Who’s gonna fire me?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, but we’re back before midnight.”

+

For such a techy guy, Peter’s car was more run down than you expected, “What? She’s a passion project,” He said, touching the dash as if he believed the car was actually a person. 

Peter was right, you had a great day. The kids loved you and you even had one of Ned’s famous s' mores. You had a feeling the night might even get a little better. The way Peter was looking at you was how you’d always wanted to be looked at by someone. 

The car turned on onto a dirt road and it seemed you were on it for ten minutes before suddenly a valley opened up before you. Peter parked the car so the trunk was facing an amazing view. You got out of the rusty truck with your flashlight shining for extra light. You really didn’t need it because the moon was full and the stars were shining so bright.

They illuminated the valley and the beautiful mountain range in front of you, “Wow,” your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and Peter looked at you as if you were the cutest thing in the world. 

“Just wait,” Peter opened up the back of the pick-up trunk and there laid a bunch of blankets and pillows. He kicked off his shoes, climbing in and setting the lantern down. He patted the spot beside him, “You can see the stars better if you lay down.”

You would’ve thought this idea was the most romantic thing in the world if you didn’t get so terrified at that moment. This was like … a date. At least, to her, these weren’t things normal friends did. Not when they held your waist and looked at you like that. 

You played with your fingernails, “Uhm..” Your voice trailed off. 

Peter had already laid down, expecting you to join him. He sat up on his elbows, “Y/N?”

You could do this. 

You climbed up into the truck, crawling beside him but leaving a few feet in between you. You let the small lantern keep you separated, “D-Did you only bring me here because of what happened earlier, Peter?”

You looked up at the stars and it was breathtaking.

“No,” Peter laughed nervously. “I just … It just made me realize something.”

“Realize what?”

You turned your head and realized he was already looking at you, “That I wanted to get to know you. You were still nice to those people even after they were so rude to you. It made me …” His voice trailed off and his eyes shut as if he didn’t want to admit what was next, “It made me want to protect you.”

Was this it? The magic you always wanted. 

“You don’t … y-you, don’t have to protect me, Peter.”

He laid his hand out and you surprise yourself when you pressed your hands to his, “But I want to,” He said. 

“I don’t know how to do things like this,” You admitted. 

“It’s okay, I can show you,” Peter said quickly, “Not that I’m super experienced either. But, as you can see, I’m pretty good at choosing romantic locations.”

You blushed and he interlaced your fingers. 

You laid there for a while, pointing out constellations and making jokes about the new ones you made up. 

“There, I found it!” Peter pointed up but there were so many stars that you couldn’t tell which one he was looking at. 

“What is it?”

“It’s you, can’t you see it?” You shook your head, leaning closer to him so you could try to see from his perspective. As you moved closer, Peter turned his head towards you, “Take my word for it, it’s as beautiful as you look right now.”

You looked at him too and you stared until Peter leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. Magic. This was magic. You weren’t sure how to move your lips but you just pressed yourself further into him. 

As you pulled away to catch your breath, you smiled, “Was that good?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah,” and he pressed his lips against yours again, his hand on your waist, “I’ve wanted to do that since last summer.”

You pulled away, “You’ve liked me for that long?” 

He tried to kiss you again, pulling your body into his, “Of course, you’re so beautiful … and innocent.” And naive, you thought. You didn’t want him to think of you as innocent. You didn’t want that to be the reason he liked you. 

You pressed a hand to his chest, trying to create distance, “Peter, maybe we should go back now. What if someone notices we’re gone?” He held you tighter and your heart raced, “Peter, I-I think we’re moving too fast.”

“This is what people who like each other do, Y/N?” He buried his head into your neck and began to kiss the skin there, “You don’t like me?” His breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. 

“P-Please, please, Peter,” You begged, struggling against him. He soon was on top of you and, as you tried to escape his grasps, he pinned your arms above your head. You screamed for help and Peter only frowned. 

“No one’s gonna hear you,” He sounded annoyed. Who was this boy above you? Was he always a wolf in sheep’s skin? All these years? 

“Peter, you saved me today,” You tried to reason with him, “Don’t do this.”

He held your legs down as he ripped off your shorts with ease, “White panties? I should’ve known,” This was what he wanted. To steal your innocence and to hold that title forever. He spread your legs with his own. 

His eyes hovered above your own, his eyes staring right into, “What do you think people will believe? This story or that an innocent little girl like you wanted to lose her virginity with the boy she’s always had a crush on. Who do you think they’ll believe, you or me?”

You cried out but he shushed you by forcing his lips on you. You bit his lip and he pulled away, fuming and his grip on your wrist tightened, “We’re gonna have fun these three weeks,” He pulled off your panties next, stuffing them into your mouth to muffle your screams, “I’ll be gentle if you stop struggling, Y/N. I know it’s your first time.”

He positioned himself between your legs, pulling down his own shorts before feeling your sex with his fingers. He tested your reaction, watched you flinch as he stimulated that foreign part of your body, “I bet you haven’t even masturbated,” Peter growled, “Jesus.” He could probably finish just with the idea of you being so tight. 

He positioned himself at your entrance and you felt just how hard he was. You closed your eyes tight but they shot open as he slowly entered you. You struggled but that only made it worse. You were still, the pain ripping through your lower region. Tears were spilling out of your eyes. 

He didn’t need to hold you down anymore, his body was pressed against yours now and you felt too helpless to fight it anymore, “You’re gonna be mine, Y/N,” Peter whispered in your ear, tasting your tears with his tongue, “Only mine.”

As he rubbed your sensitive area and moved in and out, you hated that you were getting used to it. You hated that it was starting to feel pleasure. Peter noticed that you were getting wet and that only made him start to thrust his hips faster. 

Something began building in your core and you thought you might explode. Your body convulses and your breathing becomes even more rapid. You tightened around Peter’s member, milking his climax out of him as you did the same but against your will. Peter slammed his hand down beside your head, groaning loudly as he finished inside of you.

You were his for the rest of camp and you were not to tell anyone what happened. 

“This is gonna be such a good summer, Y/N.”

+

Feel free to request some drabbles! If you want more dark peter than check out my masterlist!

[stellar-imagines]

HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝roomies.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Takami Keigo, Dabi ]

「Headcanons of Hawks and Dabi with quirkless rommate. 」

TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

♤ You were just a normal university student trying to find a place to live in Tokyo. Moving from your hometown was not easy, especially when you've been there for most of your life and that it's not a busy place like Tokyo. Your parents had gotten a bit too carried away and wanted to ensure that you were comfortable in Tokyo. The apartment you were offered by a housing agency was one on the top floor, two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. The interior was simple and spacious, certainly a bit too large for one person.

♤ So, your housing agent brought in a roommate for you. Of course, you didn't mind at all. The rent was split, and having someone around didn't seem like a bad idea at all. However, at first, you barely saw this roommate of yours. You could only see traces, the used cutleries in the sink, the fresh scent coming from the bathroom, and whatnot. From all that, you deduced that it was a male you were living with. It took you almost a week to realize that Hawks was your roommate. 

♤ As the Number Two Pro Hero, this guy is rarely at home so the chances of the two of you meeting will be very rare. The very few times you would meet would be on the days you have stayed up all night to do your projects or study for an upcoming exam. So the only time you two actually manage to sit and have a nice long chat was on Hawks's very rare day-offs. He would take his time to get to know you, from what you study to your hobbies and more detailed things.

♤ Hawks is very talkative and can have a prolonged conversation with you so casually. He let it slip that he's only like this to people he liked. This guy dislikes formalities and does not care about social status or recognition so he doesn't think too much when you told him that you're quirkless. On his day-offs, he would invite you to take it easy with him in the living room, eat some good food and have a nice long chat to unwind. And he has a lot of interesting stories, since he's always flying about and sees a lot of things.

♤ Since this guy isn't always at home, the apartment was always clean except for his room. He comes home at absurd hours and would just take a quick shower, throwing his clothes haphazardly onto the ground, and go straight to bed. And he seems to really like ordering take out. You know this because he would ask if you wanted anything before he ordered anything. Usually, its pizza, fried chicken, or curry. This guy just likes chicken wings and fried chicken a little bit too much.

♤ The two of you never really argue over anything. The house is always clean, you both took turns taking out the trash no matter how busy you both were. One thing that's a bit interesting is how you would be seated on the couch watching a movie and Hawks would suddenly decide to sit next to you in the middle of it, and watch the rest of the movie with you. He steals your snacks, much to your dismay but he repays you by surprising you with some of your favorite foods.

♤ Honestly, Hawks appears to not know what a door is. Really. He almost never uses the front door to enter the apartment and always opted for the balcony by the living room. You once woke up in the middle of the night, hearing a crash, the sound of glass breaking and footsteps. You grabbed your thickest book and chucked it at whoever entered the apartment. What you get was a loud "What the hell are you doing woman? It's just me!" as a reply. You soon learn that this guy prefers flying through the balcony to get into the apartment and always leave it unlocked.

♤ You never knew how annoying it was to have a roommate with wings until you met Hawks. He seems to really like messing around with you, especially using his quirk. Hawks is naturally a playful guy so you can't do anything about it. Sometimes he would use his feather to hold up your things out of your reach. Once he’s comfortable with you, he would annoy you even further. But depending overall, he’s a good roommate who respects your boundaries and privacy.

DABI

☆ You were a quirkless student just trying your best to survive and get through college. You were searching for an apartment that was close to your school to save transportation money. The place fit all the requirements and you quickly moved in after the landlord showed you the room. They did tell you about having a roommate living together with you but you thought nothing about it until you actually met him. First impression, he was intimidating and looked like your local rebellious yakuza. Honestly, you always reminded yourself to not get involved with him.

☆ The first time you run into each other was in the middle of the night and you almost mistook him as a murderer until you noticed how he came in through the front door and took off his shoes. Who wouldn't think he's some sort of killed with that patches of gnarled, wrinkled, purple skin that covers his lower face and neck, all the way down past his collarbone, below his eyes and on his arms and legs. Not to mention, those staples and hoop piercings that are attached to his skin. In addition, those several piercings in both ears, and on the right side of his nose.

☆ Dabi is a man who’s what we call a lone wolf and he’s been alone most of the time so when he moved in, he was surprised to see you around the apartment. He didn't know that he was going to have a roommate. Honestly, he was expecting to have the whole place to himself without any disturbance. He's a very mysterious person who trusts no one, preferring to do things alone and in his own way. So he ignores you most of the time. The first time you met him was something that you would remember for a long time.

☆ However, he wasn't like any roommate you expect. He's not a good roommate nor was he a bad roommate. He's actually very rude and condescending to everyone he interacts with. Obviously, you were no exception. He's distant and emanates an aura that basically tells you that he's not interested in being friends with you. So in the beginning, he didn't bother talking to you and completely ignored your existence. But he doesn't disturb you at all and keeps the apartment surprisingly clean.

☆ When you're both already friends and somewhat comfortable with each other, he will be more casual with the way he talks to you, as if he's talking to an old friend. Sometimes he would steal bits of your food while you're in the middle of making something. He calls you a nerd constantly because he sees you in the living room doing your homework, sometimes calling with your friends to discuss a project and studying for tests or quizzes. He never really cared whether you were a quirkless person or not. Sometimes he calls you weak and harmless because you're quirkless.

☆ How you grew to tolerate each other was because of one event. It was extremely late on that day, you were hunched over your notes in the living room, with only the light from your laptop providing illumination. Dabi wasoutside by the balcony, minding his own business and staring a the street below. He eventually came inside to see you still awake. Usually he didn't care about what you do that much at that moment, he said, "You've been studying for days, you'll do fine, just go to bed." Then he left for his room. You were a bit surprised that he actually paid attention to you. Sometimes, he would put a blanket over you when he finds you sleeping on the couch.

☆ He's barely at home because of his occupation. Dabi doesn't really hide his occupation because he doesn't really care what you think about it. Since you barely see him, you don't have any idea that he's a villain. And honestly, it worries you that he's always coming home in the middle of the night. Before you got friendly with one another, you'd leave notes, telling him to keep it down at night because you're trying to sleep. Over time, you'd leave notes reminding him to get enough sleep. Sometimes, you'd leave some food for him on the dinner table.

☆ Unexpectedly grows attached to you. He sees the apartment as a place where he can let his guard down and relax. He doesn't want to be on alert within his place of comfort and relaxation. You never poked into his business and you respected his privacy. He was the same also, though he always looked like he never cared about what you're doing. He feels somewhat at ease seeing you just relaxing. 

Total: 742 words Published: 05.10.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ I've seen other people assume roommates are people who live in the same apartment and in different rooms. So we just went with it. I have been very busy with a lot of things and didn’t have time to update. And we’re swamped with so many requests. We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Certainly hope that you don't mean living in the same room, anon..... We suddenly have a lot of requests..... That’s good but please remember we take a long ass time to finish one. Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos. 

[kidhawks]

so you remember how that bald headed wind kid from shiketsu (i think) idolized endeavor but then had a very rough interaction with him and after that resented him ? do you think if a younger hawks met endeavor and had an experience like that, that something similar would happen ? in my mind, hawks’s vision of endeavor comes from himself; the man he idolized was created from his own hopes and strength projected onto his plushie . thats why i wonder if he had met endeavor and his hero was rough and abrasive if it would have any impact on his views of him !

oooh that’s a thought... and you’re right, the interesting thing about hawks’ admiration of endeavor is that it didn’t begin with him actually admiring endeavor the hero. he saw him on tv but i don’t think little keigo cared much about heroes beyond “cool tv show”. it’s the endeavor plushie that keigo uses as a source of strength and comfort. then endeavor happens to arrest takami which is a turning point for keigo, but i’m gonna go out on a limb here and say i don’t think it’s the moment he actually began looking up to endeavor.

this is because we’re told that hawks admired endeavor because he was the only one seriously trying to surpass all might; now, we know that there are other contributing factors but there’s a lot of emphasis on this one in paticular. and to me this shows a lot of perceptiveness for a kid. hawks at first looked up to endeavor because he was his plushie companion, then his saviour, but his investment in endeavor as a hero probably began from hawks’ own observations of him. which leads me to believe that hawks’ rose-tinted view of endeavor as his “shining light” didn’t last long at all. he watched the guy for real and realised “... huh, he’s working really hard and it’s kind of embarrassing but it’s also incredible”, which!!! if he noticed that, i’m positive he’d notice endeavor’s other personality traits too—rough, abrasive, downright dickish

so tbh i don’t think meeting him irl would shatter any delusions for little hawks, because little hawks was already crazy perceptive. if anything, i think hawks would appreciate how “real” enji seems in his emotions (though we readers know he was hiding a lot of shit). to a kid like hawks, all might would feel like some untouchable monolith whose smile brings zero real comfort or relief. endeavor, however, would be irrefutably human to hawks—he gets grumpy and he doesn’t fake smiles and he works hard. that means more to hawks, a kid who started at the bottom, because it shows that you can work your way up instead of being automatically perfect like all might seems.

and now i’m on a tangent but i wonder how much endeavor’s bluntness influenced hawks’ own persona? hawks more often than not comes off as rude and completely uncaring of other people’s feelings... this of course is an act to distract from his motives, but i can see him being inspired by endeavor’s very real rudeness and going “if people use endeavor’s attitude to dismiss him as an idiot, then i can replicate that”

hawks’ relationship with endeavor is so interesting :o

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

What if after the party Hawk decided to get revenge by sharing Demetri's secrets as well. Demetri's mom let's him in when he's not home and he finds his journal. What he wasn't expecting was all of the pages about he regrets saying all of those things and he's pretty sure he's in love with him

Oof ouch there goes my goddamn HEART I didn’t need it anyway

I can honestly totally see this happening though??? Like Hawk slipping into “Eli mode” the same way he does to fool the school counselor and using that to break into Demetri’s house because he’s counting on Demetri not being able to bear to tell his mom the full extent of how bad things have gotten with “good old Eli”...and Hawk’s absolutely right. The most Demetri has mentioned to his mom is that there’s been a “bit of tension” and “Eli and I have been arguing a lot.” So of course Hawk gleefully goes up to his room to find the most embarrassing dirt he can and get the most epic vengeance.

And, sure enough, there’s Demetri’s goddamn diary. Of course he would keep a diary, the lame fucking nerd. Who the hell even keeps diaries anymore??? And he reads it from the beginning, and realizing the first half or so is from when they were still best friends. It’s a lot of geek nonsense, rants about video games and Lord of the Rings and what have you, sometimes drawing parallels between scenes from his own life being harassed by Kyler and the plight of Middle Earth being ruled by Sauron. All typical nerdy Demetri. But...there’s also a lot about Eli. About some present he got for Eli that he’d been especially excited about. About how proud he was of Eli for winning that coding competition with him. About how frustrated he was that he couldn’t stand up for Eli more against the bullies. About how much he hated that Eli felt like he needed to constantly cover the scar above his lip. How grateful he really was to have Eli around because “at least someone will listen to my ingenious insight!!!”

And then comes the fateful school year everything changed. Hawk reads through Demetri’s confused delight at Miguel befriending them and seeming to genuinely enjoy having them both around. He reads through Demetri’s bafflement at the emergence of Hawk, and his barely-concealed terror that his best friend would decide he didn’t want someone like Demetri around anymore, now that more people liked him. He reads through Demetri’s concern at Eli’s anger slowly boiling up into something violent and unnerving. He reads through Demetri’s betrayal at Eli blowing him off after Demetri was assaulted by Kreese, and his worry at having his two best friends training with a man who has no issue beating up random high schoolers off the street. He reads through how lost Demetri was after Eli jumped him in the mall, desolate and spiraling and feeling like he’d never quite feel whole again. How broken Demetri had felt looking at Eli’s nearly-unconscious body on the food court floor. 

And then comes a long ramble about the latest season of Doctor Who, and--Hawk notes with an oddly painful twinge--how much Eli would love it. “He’s all about badassery now, he’d be SO into this if I could get him to watch it.” And then a long, giddy ramble about how maybe this is how he’s finally going to get through to Eli--how he’s going to get his Eli back. How he missed him so much he barely knows how to function anymore.

And then come the pages after that fateful party, the one where things almost went right and then everything went so very wrong. It’s just line after line of things to the gist of “Oh, god. I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up SO fucking bad. I’m a piece of shit.” Even after everything that’s happened between them, Eli feels himself getting...alarmed. Demetri is never this...concise. Or vulgar. He prides himself on being wordy and pretentious, and not having to curse to make a point. Now it’s like he can’t stop swearing, can’t stop repeating what a piece of shit he is. Which can really only mean he’s gotten so emotional and fallen so deep into devastation that it’s somehow temporarily overridden one of the most prominent parts of his personality.

The last line in the journal is “I never even fucking told him I’m in love with him. He’d fucking kill me if he knew. He’d be so disgusted. But I wish I’d said something anyways. Is that fucking stupid?” Hawk just...slams the journal shut and sits there for several minutes, having no clue what the fuck to do now.

Okay bUT IMAGINE THIS ISN’T EVEN AN AU AND HAWK ACTUALLY READS ALL THIS AND STILL HUNTS DOWN DEMETRI AT THE SCHOOL FIGHT AND LATER BREAKS HIS ARM, HOW UPSETTING WOULD THAT BE

The fucked part is I could SEE it, like this kid already projects all the “pussy nerd shit” he hates about himself onto poor Demetri, like imagine the internalized homophobia??? This kid who wants to seem like the most macho tough guy ALIVE must have??? And imagine he has/had a crush on Demetri and has been suppressing it like there’s no tomorrow and now oh god oh FUCK he has to be reminded of it??? And these feelings are just yet ANOTHER part of his past self that Hawk hates, and with the love Demetri feels for him...well, how could Demetri more PERFECTLY and COMPLETELY represent the “weak” parts of himself that Hawk now despises??? And Demetri becomes Hawk’s absolute prime target after that, because he HATES what he sees of his past self in Demetri and, most of all, he HATES that all of that is still there inside of him. By making a bitter enemy of Demetri, he figures, by alienating him and antagonizing him to the point where any connection they ever had or could ever have is completely broken, maybe he can finally be free of being that Weak-Ass Lame Gay Nerd that nobody liked and everybody mocked.

On a slightly happier note, maybe seeing that final journal entry is part of what spurred Hawk’s eventual change of heart. Like he’s just watching the destruction around him caused by the Cobra Kai kids, and remembers Johnny saying that Kreese doesn’t give a shit about him. And he just has this epiphany like “Demetri loves me.” (And he knows this has to be true, because he was never meant to see it. No reason for Demetri to lie in the privacy of his own journal. No manipulation or tricks here...not like what Kreese has learned how to pull.) “No one at Kreese’s Cobra Kai ever did.”

And he decides in that moment he’s going to fight for a person who loves him as he is, rather than a person who only likes the image that he made for himself to feel like he could be something other people respected. Hawk still doesn’t love the weaker parts of himself, the more vulnerable parts, the parts that people can easily jeer at and mock and use to make him feel awful about himself--but maybe if Demetri sees something worth loving, then Hawk eventually can, too.

[pluviophile-imagines]

Could I ask what your sexuality headcanons are? I love comparing mine with other peoples’!

Ok second half of this; this is just like. non-students who i Actually have thought about HJBAFV not at all a comprehensive list. Again disclaimer i write all these chars as bi in my fics, also i am bi myself so the vast majority are also bi, and also leaving a lot of these vague so u can imagine ur favorite ship or urself or w/ever

ok lets start this off with Aizawa. I think....... hes another one who's rlly unlabelled, doesnt super care to think it through and define it, but calls himself gay bc his interest in women is very, very rare and it's just way easier to say than explain all that. Definitely do buy into the idea that he had a crush on Oboro in hs but i do NOT buy into the easermic agenda sorry. Definitely not someone who goes looking for dates, but doesn't say no if someone asks him and hes interested (also im not gonna give her a whole section but i saw a hc a while back that the Ms. Joke stuff is literally that shes a lesbian and hes gay and shes fucking with him and i love that so much i just wanted to put it out there)

on the topic of the erasermic agenda: Hizashi's pan and knew it before HS, had a sudden & intense crush on Aizawa for the first month they knew each other and then immediately got over it in favor of a similar sudden, intense, and then immediately fading crush on Midnight. Hizashi and Aizawa r just rlly good friends imo; maybe they messed around for a bit in their twenties but it never went anywhere serious. He dates around a lot, not even necessarily to settle down just to have some fun

Midnight is aro/ace but does get in qprs & gravitates towards women wrt that. Most people dont read vigilantes but theres a woman in that, Kazuho, who i imagine she's been in a long-term qpr with; her relationship with aizawa and hizashi leans a little more towards a qpr than a normal friendship, too, but it's not rlly defined that way

All Might is married to justice queer but v much not interested in relationships. He and that one guy from the first movie are ABSOLUTELY exes and i won't hear otherwise; it's the only relationship he's ever had, and they broke up bc he had to go back to japan. He was heartbroken but did eventually get over him; his lack of romance afterwards is from genuine disinterest and not being hung up on his past. I can see him finding someone else in his later years, after he's retired. Definitely feels like he's not worthy of it tho

Hawks is bi but unfortunately didn't get to figure that out until like Now in the timeline...... if youll let my dabihawks history shine through i think dabi was the reason JHBASFGJHB he was basically brainwashed by the commission to become a hero so he didnt have time to Figure That Shit Out; he knew he was into women bc that was easy & what the commission expected from him but then he started this undercover assignment and met dabi and realized Oh...... Fuck. Hawks is hard tbh, bc i think between the control that the commission has over him and his own convictions as a hero he doesn't pursue any romance (tho he does get crushes or find people attractive) and most of his flings are done to keep up his prettyboy act, not out of genuine interest in being a fuckboy. Can't imagine him having a relationship until well after canon but I do see him being interested eventually

Onto the villains, Shigaraki is unlabelled but probably would call himself queer if asked. Definitely admires women more but isn't very interested in romance; AFO actively encourages him to pursue the things interested in so imo if he were he'd talk abt it more lmfao. I kinda see him as demi as well, not the type to fall immediately but requiring a friendship beforehand; tho unlike Bakugo as i said in my last post I dont think it happens suddenly but rather slowly. Y'all know im a big fan of shigaraki being absolutely whipped for his s/o so i do thing hes a big piner, tho he's also pretty bold and unashamed of his affections. I'm a big fan of him falling for a member of the league or a civilian; definitely can't see him falling for a hero unless the hero was already halfway to turning sides already. I think he's also attracted to intelligence and someone who pushes him to think more abt his ideology...... maybe im just projecting at this point JSHDFBVAJKSHD but my point is that the gender of his partner is definitely the least of what he considers/notices

Dabi is bi and, here's my bold take, demisexual; not interested in sex unless its with someone he loves. Absolutely doesn't even think abt romance for most of the years where he's on his own. He's got revenge to plan. By the time he joins the league that hasn't changed much, and he's demi so he's not interested in sleeping around, plus he rlly denies any attachment to people at all. As I said in that other ask tho I do rlly like the idea of him with Magne, so I think they have a fling for a bit before her death :( it's one of the things that leads him to isolate himself further, unfortunately, even from Jin and the other League members with whom his relationships aren't romantic. I can see him dating someone post-canon bc i think hes gonna be redeemed lol. It could be someone he knew before but they probably didnt date again bc he was v guarded; i think magne was rlly the only person he dated

Magne is pan and heres the kicker: I think shes t4t, which led to a little moment just before she and dabi got together where he was like "she wouldnt be into me :/" but she was into him anyway so all was good. She got around in her circles, mostly casual stuff tho she yearned for something more serious.

Spinner's bi & trends towards women but does occasionally get things for men and they're almost always intense. He thought he was straight for a while even once he joined the league and then suddenly got a crush on Shigaraki (around the time of MVA) and realized otherwise LMFAO he's definitely a hopeless romantic type, the whole mutant prejudice thing makes it rlly hard for him and i can see him being rlly happy with another mutant-type; i feel like as he matures he starts to gravitate towards them

Toga is canonically pan to my understanding, iirc her interest in Uraraka and Deku is the same (and romantic) in canon tho i might be wrong. Poor girl just needs therapy. I like the idea of the two of them becoming her friends over her being involved with them but i totally can get behind her having a thing with Uraraka (and maybe Tsu) at some point post-canon (presuming she gets redeemed), tho I think a qpr between the two/three of them would be longer lasting. And again presuming she gets therapy i can see her settling down with someone, gender irrelevant

Jin is unlabelled bc he hasn't much thought abt it, definitely had a thing for dabi and for hawks which does make me sad on both counts. I think he likes women slightly more abstractly/aesthetically and gets crushes more on men,. The dabi thing fades as they get closer and start to view each other as brothers. In his later years he doesn't rlly care about romance, I think he enjoys the experience of crushing but doesnt like dating people; his found family in the League is far more important to him. But i can see him falling head-over-heels for someone quite suddenly and having a bit of a whirlwind romance. Also someone for whom gender isn't much of a factor

Mr Compress is also queer and also hasn't rlly thought abt it. Definitely leans more towards women; he's like 30 but i like to think he also goes for older partners, 10 or 15 years his senior KJBADSJFHB idk he just has that Vibe with the way he calls himself an old man etc. A lot of the league i cant see sleeping or dating around much, i feel like they prioritize each other, but I do think mr compress gets around more than the others. i can see him having a bit of a fuckbuddy who he catches feelings for

Kurogiri is fun; as Oboro I do think Aizawa's crush was reciprocated, tho he wasn't around long enough for them to act on it :( he's bi, tho kurogiri isn't supposed to have personal interests. I like to imagine the brainwashing isnt as good as AFO wants it to be tho so I like the idea of him falling for someone anyway. I also like the idea of the heroes managing to undo the nomufication and I 100% can see him, aizawa, and someone else (someone he was involved with as Kurogiri) ending up in a triad as a result of aizawa and the third partner helping him through the aftermath of all that shit

Lady Nagant is a manga-only minor character but im in love with her so imma talk abt it. Shes bi and leans VERY heavily towards women, probably spent years questioning whether she was rlly bi or a lesbian before finally having a fling with a guy that she genuinely enjoyed. Has only ever been in long-term relationships with women and I v much think she has a gf at home who stayed even when she was arrested 🥺

Finally imma talk abt Natsuo bc i love that boy. He's one of the few unmarried chars with a love interest and he canonically has a gf. I do see him as IDing straight in canon ngl, but the kind of straight where he might actually be bi but his preference leans so heavily towards women and he grew up in a bad home so he just doesnt rlly think abt it bc hes v happy with women anyway. In shiganatsu thoughts shigaraki is the first man he has a thing for; i rlly can see the two of them in a triad with a woman specifically, who helps the two of them find each other and is the one who initiates bc its definitely a weird situation for natsuo

[linkspooky]

The Kids Aren’t Alright

There are several things wrong with Bakugo’s mindset in the most recent chapters, and I think they can all be effectively summed up in this image. 

 Bakugo’s focus is still being stronger than the bad guys, rather than on saving people. It’s still all about winning to him. 

Bakugo makes a selfish and bull headed decision to charge right into danger due to his own personal trauma.

Bakugo’s trauma is still unresolved. Rather than coming to terms with what happened to him, he’s still stuck in the mindset that if he had just been stronger then the traumatizing incident would never have ahppened to him. He’s literally in a sense fighting his trauma and trying to punch it in the face rather than processing his feelings. 

I’ll go more in depth under the cut. 

1. The Kids Aren’t Alright

The decision to charge after Shigaraki reflects poorly on both Bakugo and Deku’s characters, and shows character regression for both of them. There’s a difference between being heroic, and making a suicide charge and the difference lies in every single person telling Deku and Bakugo not to run at Shigaraki, and the both of them blatant ignoring that sound and logical advice. 

This arc so far has been about the regression of the heroes. This applies not only to the professional heroes, but also the next generation who are set up to fix the flaws of the previous generation. However, and I hope this is what Horikoshi is setting up, it’s impossible to fix those flaws if the characters don’t even see those flaws in the first place. We are shown several times characters carrying a serious case of hero worship that blinds them tot he faults of their mentors.

When asked to think for himself by the villain, Tokoyami’s black and white vision of heroics is so extreme that he can’t even criticize Hawks. Hawks had to have been right, because the heroes are always right in the end. The fact that the heroes are above criticism at all times prevents the next generation from learning of their faults. 

This is also something that has been set up previously, All Might keeps secrets from Deku like his fallout with Nighteye because he was afraid it would make him look bad to his protege. Bakugo has been shown to have a completely different interpretation of All Might than Deku, to the point where it was called into question what he saw in All Might might have been wrong. 

Bakugo was set up to learn something, and he didn’t, and that’s character regression. Characters don’t always move forward, sometimes they stall, or even fall back. If this arc really is about the regression of hero society than it makes sense that this conflict is completely unresolved. As you said, Eraserhead and All Might both said they needed to do more to address Bakugo’s trauma about being kidnapped, and taking the blame for All Might’s end and yet six months later he is still blaming himself. 

The reason Bakugo is holding onto his feelings all this time is a complicated one and has entirely to do how Bakugo copes with his trauma. This has been a running theme with Bakugo since the beginning of the manga. Bakugo reflects the ideas of hero society, and because Bakugo believes himself to be strong due to having a flashy quirk, he thinks there is no situation where he should feel weak. He always assumes he can overcome everything simply by getting stronger, and trying harder. It’s why the expectations on him are so monumentally high. 

This is not only an idea that Bakugo has of himself, he’s also treated this way by everyone around him. When he’s kidnapped by a villain nobody stops to check if he’s okay, they just compliment him on his quirk and say how strong he was. Because he is strong he is expected to always be strong. To the point where Bakugo’s kidnapping on live television is brought up as a point of embarrassment and shame for him, rather than a point where he nearly died. 

Bakugo has internalized this idea that he can’t let anyone make him feel weak, and he can’t feel weak ever, due to the way people around him are always treating, and also his own personal failure at learning how to process his emotions. In the past Bakugo projected his feelings of weakness onto Deku and beat him up rather than try to address his own personal failings. 

Bakugo is strong, so Deku has to be weak. Bakugo is important, so Deku has to be a pebble of the side of the road. It’s also a repeat of the same biases that hero society has shown him, Bakugo gets special treatment because he has a strong quirk, Deku is put down because he’s quirkless. 

All of these unhealthy attitudes have been passed onto Bakugo and it’s left him completely unable to process his trauma. In his book if he was strong he never would have gotten kidnapped in the first place. Therefore, the only way for him to solve the problem is to get stronger. To simplify, a lot of times trauma is about control. Being kidnapped by villains meant Bakugo was completely out of control in the situation. He’d always like to imagine he’s in control, and capable of winning if he’s strong enough. Even when he was kidnapped, Bakugo kept acting like all he needed was for them to drop their guard down and he would escape. He couldn’t even admit to himself that he was scared and in need of saving. 

The key to that involves admitting that he’s not in control, admitting to his weakness, but Bakugo does not want to do that so instead he’s just gotten stronger and stronger. However, Bakugo negatively foils another character who was unable to admit to his weakness and because of that hurt everyone around him. 

Endeavor and Bakugo reflect one another in that they both have super unhealthy attitudes in regards to their own strength. This is also a parallel that was deliberately set up by the plot. 

All Might compared him and Endeavor as similiar heroes, and Bakugo even directly said he came here to reflect on the differences between him and Endeavor and how he can be better, and Bakugo just didn’t do that. We see the reason he didn’t as well, he was so fixated on strength that he thought he was done growing when he beat up a bad guy faster than Endeavor for once. 

Bakugo’s goal was once again focused entirely in developing his own strength, not caring about his emotional development at all. And so we see, Bakugo has literally no reaction to learning that Endeavor could have murdered his own son, but he reacts this much to just being faster than Endeavor. Bakugo’s priorities are still entirely on physical strength and not emotional strength because due to trauma he thinks if he were just physically strong he would have overcome that situation. Thus he regresses. 

2.  Oh No, You’re Just Another Brick in the Wall

The kids are failing to learn lessons but also adults are failing to teach them. There are several instances of this in this arc alone, and in the leadup to this arc. As you said, Eraserhead had like six months to work with Bakugo, and Bakugo still feels like it’s his fault that All Might retired and he has to fix it, so clearly Eraserhead did nothing. 

All Might is someone who has noticed the similarity between Bakugo and Enji but fails completely to notice Endeavor’s flaws, and how those things make him a bad hero. Not only does Bakugo still hold onto the idea that physical strength is what matters most over emotional strength, but every hero around him believes that as well. 

The Public Hero Safety Commission is forcing the kids into internships. Endeavor only starts mentoring the kids because the hero safety commission says it’s in his best interest. The healthy development of the children is not their number one priority here, but rather how they can be used as soldiers for the upcoming battlefield. Soldiers don’t need have well-developed emotions, they just need to be strong, and fight the thing you tell them to fight. 

Every single adult hero in the system, including Hawks who is a child soldier himself seems to think that physical strength means that it’s okay to put literal teenagers on a battlefield where extremely dangerous serial killers are going to try to kill them, and yes it’s different from normal hero work because normal hero work heroes are not allowed to kill no matter what. It’s been made clear several times already this arc is a war zone, and heroes are fighting for life or death stakes with killing intent towards the villains. 

Bakugo’s failure of growth also represents a failure on the part of the heroes because he actually shares several flaws in common with his mentors. Aizawa and Bakugo have the exact same trauma response. The reason they lose, and lose people is simply because they weren’t strong enough. They take all of the blame on themselves. 

Aizawa admits that people have died saving his life, but his survivor’s guilt is too much for him to bear. So, he tries to fix his trauma in the way that Bakugo does. He tries to simply be stronger. If he’s stronger next time then he won’t lose, and he’ll never have to lose anyone ever again. 

Not only is Aizawa’s power fantasy a bad way to handle his emotions because he’s disrespecting the sacrifices of both Crustle and Oboro who wanted him to live (he’s even going so far as to totally disrespect Oboro who is still alive as Kurogiri, by destroying his precious student he looked after like a lost kitten. In other words Aizawa is killing the cat rather than saving it.) It’s not actually about them, it’s about Aizawa’s own feelings of hurt. Just like Bakugo’s bullying, his obsessive quest to be stronger, are all about his own hurt feelings and not what’s best for others. Not only is he failing to come to terms with his own feelings he’s also decidedly unheroic. 

Aizawa’s interest is not in saving someone, but rather revenge. Like he’s the Dark Knight or the Punisher. Aizawa’s positive qualities all lie in how he can understand the needs of children, and take care of them, and yet he’s doing the opposite of that in trying to kill an abused child. 

Aizawa’s completely tunnel visioned view of the world (just like Bakugo’s) also leads to his own hypocrisy. He needs to live, and he thinks dying is the worst thing of all so he tries to teach students that simply throwing your life away isn’t heroic - and yet here he is making a suicide charge five seconds after his life was saved. He wants to protect his students, but he also lets the Hero Commission bring a bunch of sixteen year olds who have not been properly informed or consented to this at all (and legally cannot consent) to a warzone where people are trying to kill them. 

Aizawa fails to notice the flaws in hero society and correct them, and because of this while he’s talking about how he would do anything to protect his students, Bakugo and Deku disobey direct orders to run away from Shigaraki, and charge straight at him in a suicide charge. Bakugo has failed to learn his lesson, and Aizawa has failed to teach it, and if it continues this way Hero Society can’t improve it will only stagnate. 

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 3 (Jason Todd x Reader)

OKAY LEMME TELL YOU ALL I’VE NEVER POSTED ANYTHING THIS LONG. AND I’VE NEVER SMILED SO MUCH WHILE WRITING A SINGLE FIC IN MY LIFE. IT’S 2K WORDS LONGER THAN THE COMMANDER FINALE. TALK ABOUT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

REMEMBER WHY JADE WEST WAS SO ICONIC IN VICTORIOUS? READ ON!

WORDS: A WHOPPING 7404 WORDS FOR A SINGLE PART OF A SERIES WARNINGS: NEVER HAD THIS MUCH FLUFF IN MY LIFE

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Hands flat on Ms. Peterson’s desk, you flashed the brightest fake smile you could. She looked up from her computer, probably the fifth round of solitaire for the day, and cocked up an eyebrow. She did not at all look amused at you storming in.

But you’ve been in the library for twenty minutes and this woman has not given you anything to do to keep you in here.

“Listen, Ms. Peterson. As much as we just love hanging out in this outdated hellhole, I’d rather we go home than just sit here and do nothing for the next hour and a half.”

Her shaky hands didn’t flinch. And she turned her attention back at her screen.

“I’m told to keep you in here for another eight weeks. I’ve had this job for fifty years and I’m not about to lose it to two whiny brats.”

“She’s the only whiny brat here, Ms. P.” Jason rested his elbows on the desk and leaned over beside you. “If you let us out, it’ll be our little secret. C’mon.”

Obviously, that sort of trick works for Jason more times than it would for any ordinary person. But Ms. Peterson was not the one to charm with. And she had the same, dead look in her eye when she turned her head at the young man.

“Sit. Down.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t care. Just get your asses on those chairs and sit. Oh look! A person in need of service. There’s your job. Go do it.”

Only one guy was standing behind you. You snarled at him, eyes narrowed. You were almost growling beneath your breath which made him visibly stand back. Jason looked at him over his shoulder with less fear factor but with the same annoyance.

The sight of you both made him almost piss his pants.

“Uhm,” he gulped. “Can you please show me where sci fi books are at?”

You cocked up an eyebrow, glancing at your nails before nudging Jason with your shoulder. He grunted at you, giving you that same ‘I really fucking hate you’ look on his face he’s practically embedded onto his own skin by now. You shrugged, looking back at your nails. Then Jason stood straight and held the guy by the shoulder.

“Go through that aisle. Third shelf from the right.”

“He asked you to go with him, Todd.”

His glare on you was really starting to show. “He can find it himself.”

The poor guy gulped and viciously nodded to agree with Jason. He walked away, making sure not to catch your eye. You lifted your elbows from the librarian’s desk and spared the old lady another snarky look, to which she didn’t even bother to notice. Both of you sitting back on the empty table, Jason placed his arm crossed over the other on the surface and leaned his head over to at least try having a nap. His hair was all sprawled out. You, on the other hand, leaned back, head hanging on your neck, and closing your eyes hoping time would fly by faster that way.

It didn’t.

Two weeks. It had been two fucking weeks. And yet, you were far from being halfway through this macabre series of events. Why couldn’t you have just punched that Maxwell kid in the face? Or threatened to murder him in his sleep? Anything else would have been better. Anything that would’ve landed you in an entirely different situation than to be stuck here with an old woman stricter than a Belle Reeves prison guard.

You could either look at the windows out the library, find a book and actually read one of them (though if they had any more of Poe’s you’d likely get your hands on them).

Or just stare at the eye candy in front of you.

Your smirk was less obvious when you glanced over the veins on his large, muscled arms, folded on top of the other with his skin stretched. His thick, black hair that was long enough to cover most of his forehead, now sticking onto his arm. His neck that was long and thick, his thin shirt and how even more lean muscles would pop out when he’d unintentionally flex. You often caught sight of his stomach when he’d reach over a shelf that was at the top most level, and the ‘V’ shape on his skin was more than eminent enough for you to picture. He wasn’t absolutely huge, especially since he was just 17. But he was definitely fit.

You wouldn’t mind looking at that for a while. Not until he starts talking, anyway. For long minutes, that was what you did, then you got bored.

The tip of your boots kicked his shin under the table. He jumped up, startled, almost growling at you with dark bags under his eyes.

“The fuck do you want now?”

“Someone’s a bit angsty today,” your evil little smirk ticked off another of his nerves. You could tell. He let out a large sigh, started leaning back against the back of his chair, then spread out his arms behind his head to stretch.

Ooooooh shit. There is was. The veins.

“I didn’t sleep last night.” Jason finished stretching and went back to lean against the table. “You done gawking?”

“Cute.” You scrunched up your face to mock him. “I’m bored.”

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Help me sneak out of here.”

“Two weeks here. You think I haven’t tried sneaking out once or twice? That woman’s got the eye of a fucking hawk.”

“Is there any other way out of here?”

“I doubt it.”

Your groan was indefinitely long, stretching the back of your neck when you opted to reach for your phone.

“I’m at three percent.”

Jason took out his own phone. “Mine’s at five.”

“That blackout from last night reach your monster mansion, too?”

He snarled at you and rolled his eyes. “Bruce has generators to power up the whole place when we need it.”

“Then why are you at five percent?”

“Because I’ve been tinkering on this sorry little fucker the last thirty minutes.” He held it up with just his fingers. It had a cracked screen. It looked too old to even be used. “Battery drains faster than my patience.”

“Can’t your new rich dad buy you another one?”

“He did. I don’t wanna use it. Just doesn’t feel like mine.”

“Ah. You're one of those guys. ‘My parents are rich, not me’ kind of dudes. You’re all the same kinds of annoying.”

“I don’t act all high and mighty, for your information.”

“I’m just saying,” you raised your arms up. “If I were you’d I’d at least enjoy his wealth. It’s stupid if you don’t take advantage of things you clearly already have.””

He silently shook his head and looked to the side like you wouldn’t understand even if you tried. Scoffing, you turned away, and you caught the eye of Maxwell, who had a sling on his arm still.

“Holy fuck,” you reached for your bag. “I can't believe I fucking forgot.”

“What?”

Pouring out the contents, you mumbled. “Help me with this thing and I swear I owe you a huge favor.”

“I think watching you wallow in your pain would be more worth my time.”

“That sounds more like my line. You’re taking after me. Good. And I’d say likewise if I wasn’t so desperate, Todd.” You started pouring out pieces of paper, a bottle of glue, and a pair of the largest scissors Jason’s ever seen.

“Is that-“

“The scissors that sent that guy to therapy?” You pointed at Maxwell. “Yes. Yes they are.”

“Jesus.” He took it from your hands. “No fucking wonder.”

“Stop ogling and help me.”

“What the fuck are you supposed to do?”

“Remember the project that kid spilled his coffee on? This is it. I finished it that day and now I have to do it all over again. They gave me another two weeks to do it and I completely forgot about it until now. I’m supposed to make a stained-glass kind of picture. But with cutting pieces of colored paper.”

Jason took the paper you had on the table.

“These are all white, black, gray, and one sheet that’s dark red.”

You shrugged. “I like working with those colors. Now help me. I wanna do this.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a saved photo of one you’d like to copy. He almost jumped out of his seat when you suddenly showed him a picture of a deranged clown with a big red nose, a smile much larger than half his face, and eyes dark and dwelling enough to give him nightmares.

“I wanna know what type of dark shit you’re on.”

“It’s just a clown.”

“I am not helping you on your little art project.”

“Please.” Your hands were down, your eyes widened but not the threatening kind. And your voice, it was definitely the softest he’s ever heard it. Twitching an eyebrow like he was watching your every move, Jason didn’t flinch.

He looked at the clock. Then back at you with his eyeballs rolled all the way around.

“You’re lucky I literally have nothing better to do.”

You propped your shoulders up and gave him a black piece of paper and a pair of scissors. “Great. Cut these into the shapes I drew here.”

A disgruntled groan and a sharp snatch from your hands, Jason looked just as cranky as you usually were. It was amusing. He glared at you and you just smiled back. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Shut up and get to work.”

Your eyes lingered a bit longer on him, even when he’d started to fiddle with your too-large scissors, and you rolled your eyes with a bit of a smile.

“What’s making you so grumpy today?”

He didn’t bother looking up at you. His brows were all scrunched up as he cut the black piece of paper.

“I told you. I didn’t get to sleep last night. I was… out. Why are you grumpy all the time?”

You squinted your eyes at him then went to work. Carefully, he went through the first paper and gave you the shapes you wanted. You set aside your own batch and you took out the larger, white paper on which you’d glue it all on.

“Okay. Give me the shapes.”

You took out the glue and started pouring it on the paper.

“You’re doing it all wrong.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You clearly don’t.” He snatched it from you and started wiping the glue off with his finger, spreading it around. “I can't believe I’m fucking doing this.”

“And what are you doing exactly?” you snarled.

“Pouring the glue in will make it all sticky. You should’ve traced over the outer lines so it wouldn’t crumple.”

“I know that.” You took the glue away from him again, then placed the shape onto the paper. “One down.”

“Fucking kill me now.”

“Keep cutting. I’ll handle the glue.”

“Do it right, then.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. He started again with your scissors and went back to snipping off the pieces of paper. Gluing the shapes one by one, you started taking out a red marker and traced the outlines to mimic the flow of blood.

Jason stared at it, then at you, eyes wide with disbelief, then went back to his scissors.

“Excuse me,” a girl went up to you. A freshman, you could tell. “That lady told me you could show me to the young adult section?”

“No. Go away.”

You kept with your glue, not even looking at the girl who just stared at you awkwardly. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep, long sigh. “Go down that aisle. Fifth shelf. Down the very end.”

“Uh. Thanks.” She walked over to where Jason was pointing at. You still didn’t look up from your work. And instead, watched on as Jason continued with cutting the shapes. “You need to chill.”

“Finish those up. That’s the last one.”

Jason rolled his eyes even more, angrily cutting through the pieces of red paper the size of the clown’s big red nose. He dropped the scissors onto the table and just continued to watch you gluing the pieces together with way too much glue.

He gave you no warning before grabbing the glue bottle from you and the shapes, stretching his arm out so you can't reach them.

“TODD.”

“YOU’RE RUINING THE WHOLE THING.”

“NO, I’M NOT.” You cursed with his name and stood up from your chair, reaching out with your arms all the way to him while he desperately wiped off the excess glue for your sake. “GIVE THAT BACK.”

“SIT DOWN.” He cried back at you.

You heard the shrillest shush Ms. Peterson has ever made, before you went back to fumbling with Jason. Your table was at the far end, and she was no longer at your line of sight. He held your wrist, wiping off the rest of the glue, then finally handed the bottle back to you. Putting the shapes onto the paper, you groaned when you slumped back on the chair.

“It looks horrible,” he tried to stifle a laugh.

“Fuck you.”

“At least you’re almost done, right?”

“You put the glue on the shapes then, genius. I’ll paste them on.”

Grumbling with his deep voice, he took the glue bottle and swiped the shapes back over to him. Using thin, barely visible lines, he was so stingy with the glue you wanted to tear your hair out.

“That won't even stick to a fly trap.”

“You want your work to look all crumpled? Go ahead.”

“Just put a bit more.”

“I have the fucking glue bottle,” his eyebrows were raised. “You sit there and wait for me, then you stick them yourself. Start with this.”

He slammed a shape onto the table and you took it, careful not to hit your fingers with the glue. Biting into your gums, you wondered how you’ll be able to handle yet another eight weeks with his kid.

Your bickering didn’t even stop there. It went on, and Jason had to cut even more shapes to make up for some that were far too small. He was practically yelling at this point, and you weren’t about to get yelled at and not respond.

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CUT THEM, DINGUS.”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE RIGHT FUCKING SIZE.”

“I GAVE YOU THE PATTERN. YOU ONLY HAD TO FOLLOW IT.”

“WELL I WOULD HAVE IF YOUR SCISSORS WEREN’T SO DAMN BIG.”

“THEY’RE THE BEST PAIR IN EXISTENCE. YOU JUST CAN'T HANDLE IT.”

“I THINK I CAN HANDLE A PAIR OF SCISSORS.”

“THEN WHY CAN'T YOU CUT BETTER THAN A FUCKING SEVEN-YEAR-OLD.”

“’CUZ THEY DON’T HAVE A FUCKING PARROT SCREAMING AT THEM EVERY FIVE GODDAMN MINUTES.”

The silent yelling didn’t stop. At the end, your voices were too loud that Ms. Peterson would’ve eventually shushed you for the last time and probably throw her slipper at you. Thankfully, she’d gone out to the bathroom and you were left alone.

Everyone else had left. It was almost 5 pm, and you refused to go if your project still wasn’t finished.

“This. Is. The worst day. Of my entire life. And I used to live in the streets.”

“You're not going anywhere. Stay.”

A deep, agonizingly painful groan. He slumped onto the table and buried his face into his arms. “Why can't you just kill me?”

Another set of long minutes, with your attention directly at the glue and scraping off the excess to make it look presentable. It didn’t actually look that bad. The second set of cut shapes were just the right size. Jason didn’t bother looking up. He might have even fallen asleep with you being silent for the longest time since you got there.

No one was left in the library, and it was just starting to get dark.

“Aaaaand THERE.” You placed the finished project onto the table and clapped your hands together in a grinning happiness. Jason, on the other hand, looked as good as dead.

“You may go.”

“You owe me fucking big time, kid.”

You smirked at him when he violently pushed his chair back, grabbed his backpack and went out for the door. You took your time, especially since going home late didn’t seem like such a drag anymore when Dad moved back in. You carefully slipped your collage into your folder and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Jason was still standing in front of the door, hand frozen on the handle you pushed him away and turned it, only for your hand to come at an abrupt stop and the sound of gears halting its turn.

“Where the fuck is Mother Goose?”

“The bathroom-“

But she wasn’t at the bathroom. Unless Ms. Peterson took her large purse and computer along with her to the toilet, she probably wasn’t in there.

“Are we-“

“There has to be a key here.” Jason rummaged through the librarian’s desk. Every drawer he could forcefully pull out, he did.

You pulled out your phone, which was a dead 0%, the image of a drained-out battery staring back at you, and that’s when you started to feel the panic slowly rise. You rushed to the library’s telephone, but you couldn’t even hear a dial tone. The phone was off. Jason’s phone was probably just as dead.

You rushed to the lights to turn them on, but nothing happened.

Fuck. Another blackout. FUCK.

“No key,” he rested his hands on the table. “Shit. FUCK.”

You only stared at each other, feeling that panic start to settle in when you realized you were out of options.

“M-Maybe. Your dad will come pick us up?”

Jason shook his head. “The last time I ran away for the night, he said he wasn’t gonna go around Gotham to pick me up anymore.” He looked at you. “Your parents?”

“Said the exact same thing.”

Your back hit the wall, and you slid down with your head up in the ceiling. Both silent. None of you even said it out loud.

Jason looked like he wanted to scream.

-----

You laid on your back, flat against the table, with just your arm over your eyes to shield it from the light posts outside the window on the driveway. You tried to drown out Jason’s fiddling with his lock pick and the door handle. Two hours had passed, and you’d barely gone by the evening.

“That’s not gonna work.”

“You have a better option, Lydia Deetz?”

You clenched your jaw and sneered. “You’ve been at it for an hour.”

“I’m almost through this.” He kept with his pick, a hairpin he found on the ground which he spent another hour looking for. “Juuuust- THERE!”

You shot up from the table, feet landing enthusiastically onto the floor and you sprinted to Jason’s back. “Here’s to freedom.”

Too eagerly, he turned the handle and pulled the door with a victorious grin.

Only for his hand to jolt at another abrupt stop. The door wouldn’t budge, only peering open through an inch. The grin on his face was immediately lost, and he almost feel out of his feet when you violently pushed him away, pulling on the door yourself and failing.

You could see the deadbolt, but something outside was holding the double doors from opening, no matter which one you pulled on.

“That batshit crazy old witch,” you growled. “Fucking chain locked the door.”

A loud, frustrated groan from Jason as he threw the hairpin to the ground like he would’ve a knife. “WHO CHAIN LOCKS A LIBRARY?”’

You walked away from the door, going back to the tables so you could bend over and stuff your face into your hands. Jason was even more of a mess.

Your dad started his first big fight with mom since he moved back in last night, just when you thought they’d finalized the divorce, he squirms back in. And your room was never far enough to drown out their screams.

That night you wished you were somewhere else. And you ended up somewhere even worse.

Jason was sitting on the floor, back flat against the wall, and his eyes were shut close while you laid back down on top of the table.

“I’m hungry.”

“The fuck you want me to do about that?” Jason kept his eyes shut.

“You got any food?”

“No.”

“Don’t you have something in your bag?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“You think you can stab me with those scissors? ‘Cuz I feel like choking on my own blood right now.”

You rolled over so you were laying on your stomach. Craning your head up to look at Jason, your chin resting on your fingers, you grinned. “I’d rather not spend the night being stuck with your rotting flesh. I’ll kill you in the morning.”

Jason screamed into his hands. “We are not gonna be stuck here until fucking morning.”

“Either you die tonight still in denial or we actually try to survive. Now do you have anything in your bag or what?”

He didn’t give in to picking out his bag without leaving you a dark glare. The sky was completely dark by now. And the only light source you had were three lamp posts outside the window. The power was still off, which meant it was going to be this dark the whole fucking night.

“Would you look at that?” He took out a small protein bar from his smaller pocket. “Forgot that was there.”

You jumped off the table again. “Great. I’m starving.”

You walked too fast to Jason, who immediately stood up and hold you by the shoulder, raising his hand away from your reach. “Ey. Mine. From my bag, remember?”

“I don’t have anything in mine!” you reached and tried to push him, but had no luck against his strength. “Come on!”

“I have way more body mass than you. I need this.”

You pursed your lips, glowering at him even when you knew he still wouldn’t budge. He kept pushing your shoulder from him until you backed away reluctantly.

“WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT?”

You whined and grunted with your back hitting the wall. Jason stepped away facing you and opened the protein bar, took a large bite that left it with almost a third of the whole thing left.

“You know. That thing with the scissors stuck into your neck doesn’t seem like a bad idea anymore.” You grumbled.

Chewing profusely at the bar, he folded his one arm over his chest and smirked while watching you silently grovel in annoyance. You leaned on your side and made sure he wouldn’t hear your stomach starting to growl.

“Fine,” he groaned. “Here.”

A little over a quarter of the protein bar left. Jason handed it over to you and you gritted your teeth.

“There’s barely anything left, you bile-headed twat.”

“You want me to finish it?”

Snatching the bar away from him, you cursed under your breath right before you gobbled up what was left of the snack. It did little to nothing to make you feel less hungry, but at least you weren’t going to die.

“You're welcome.”

You threw the wrapper onto the floor and went back to sitting on the table. “Got anymore bright ideas?”

“Maybe if you’d help, I’d actually be able to tolerate you.”

Jason walked over to the classics shelf, pulled out a book and did the same as you. He swung his legs over on top of the table across you, bringing his knees up so he could rest his elbows on them. He then opened his book.

“You're reading,” you bit your gums. “You’re actually reading at a time like this.”

“What else are we supposed to do in a fucking library?”

Your hands met the surface of the table behind you and you threw your head back. “We have at least until the power comes back on. GOD, this place in insufferable.”

“Never mind the helping. You shutting up would be enough not to drive me insane.”

“And you're less of an ass when you're not a grouch, dickhead.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

The vein on your forehead started to throb. You weren’t tired yet, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at this hour even if you tried. You rolled around the table, desperate for any position that wouldn’t drive your limbs numb.

You jolted when you heard Jason curse.

“This fucking lamp post’s too dim. Can't even see shit.”

He set the book aside, laid down on his back and watched the ceiling with you.

“How did we even get locked up?”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep me captive with that stupid clown project for three hours we wouldn’t be in the mess.”

“So it’s my fault now? You're the one who fell asleep!”

“How could you have possibly missed the time? You know the library closes at five!”

“I didn’t fucking know that! I leave before that old witch does every time!”

“Just-.” Jason shut his eyes. “Can we stop screaming for ONE SECOND? Especially since we’re gonna stuck here the whole night?!”

The mocking noise you made was almost inhuman. Jason didn’t bother snarling back.

You saw a car pass by, the headlights shining through the window for the shortest moment. You kneeled on the table and waved your arms around.

“HEY. GET US OUT OF HERE!”

The car kept moving, and the headlights passed through the whole of the window until it left. You slumped back to lay down and groaned. “Fuck everything.”

You grabbed your bag, rummaging through everything inside just to find anything to do or anything that could possibly help you. Nothing. Not even a fan to cool you off when you started to feel the temperature rise.

“Did you call the number I gave you?”

You licked your teeth. “I used the piece of paper you gave me as a bookmark.”

Jason lifted his arm off his head. “No shame in asking for help.”

“I told you, I’m not being fucking abused.” You started picking on the leather of your boots, tracing along the creases of where your toes folded. “I don’t know what the hell made you think I was.”

“It doesn’t have to be actual physical abuse,” he sat up on his elbows.

“You really wanna make us feel uncomfortable? Why do you come to school with bruises all the time?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m not gonna fucking tell you, Y/LN.”

“Fine. Then let’s not talk about this.”

You had that usual condescending tone, but you didn’t sound like you were on the verge of lashing out. You sounded like you were pleading, even. Jason bit his lower lip. “Okay. What do you wanna talk about? It’s too early to sleep.”

You brought your knees up to sit cross legged and you leaned in on your elbows.

“Wanna play a game?”

Jason drummed his fingers on the table and sighed. “What?”

You scooched closer to him and swung your legs over the edge of the table. He did the same and faced you. “Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand, Todd. Don’t be a pussy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Then give me your hand.”

Jason snorted, leaning his elbow over his lap and giving his other hand over to you. You took it, smiling at him, then gripping firmly onto his wrist. “Make a fist.”

He fisted his hand and you could see a few veins pop out on his arm. You started rubbing the outside of his fingers. His eyes scrunched up, watching you. “Open your hand.”

He opened it, then you lightly slapped it with your own palm. “Fist,” you said again. He breathed and pulled it again to a fist. You repeated your first action with a growing smirk. “If I come out of this with one hand left-“

“Shut up. Open again.”

He opened his palm. And with a single finger, you tapped onto the center of his hand, then released your grip on his wrist.

Jason widened his eyes, amused. “It tingles.”

“I know right.” You folded your arms.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“That’s a secret.”

He then reached out his other hand to you. “Do it again.”

You laughed and snorted before grabbing his wrist, rubbed his fingers the same way you did the first time. Jason leaned over closer to look at your movements, and his nose was all scrunched up like it would when he was focused on a book. The corner of your mouth lifted, then you tapped his hand with your finger and let go.

“What sorcery is this?”

You shrugged, leaning back and folding your arms. “You have any tricks of your own?”

“Yes I do,” he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “Hold out your hand.”

You did so without hesitation. Jason held your fist, then looked straight at you. “Pick a finger and don’t tell me what it is.”

“Okay?” Your ring finger. Easy enough.

“Look straight into my eyes. Don’t look down.”

You rolled your eyes slightly to the side, licking the inside of your teeth, then did as told.

He was looking straight at you, not even trying to blink. A smirk formed on his lips, and his eyes had that same flick of a glare, but there was a little shine on them from the dim lamp post. You shook your head while still maintaining eye contact and felt his other hand start toying with your fingers.

“It’s your ring finger.”

“Huh,” you shuffled closer to him. “Do it again. I wanna watch your hands.”

“No. You have to look straight at my eyes.”

“Fine. Just do it again. I’ll pay more attention.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and you both tried your best to hold back emerging bursts of laughter while he continued to toy with your fingers and trying not to blink.

“You're not choosing a finger.” He said.

“Not true. You just suck.”

It was true. You forgot to choose a finger. The middle finger this time. You shifted your focus, but the way he’d try to hold back a laugh made you choke. “Stop laughing.”

“I’m not.” He so was. You felt him touch your fingers, moving around them one by one. “You’re trying to look for movements.”

“Nope. It’s the middle finger.” He kept at it. Over and over, with you refusing to admit he read your mind.

His hands started feeling warmer each time. You didn’t know you noticed.

-----

A bustling, screeching noise of a cart being hauled around the room for the past ten minutes. You’ve been here for five hours. You were tired, starving, and sweating. You covered most of your face and ears with your hands, but the cart’s noises just kept going.

You shot up from the table. “DUDE. STOP.”

You normally had more insults to scream at him, but at that point of the night, you were all out.

Jason kept going and ignored you. Starting from one end of the library, he pushed the handles of the empty cart, accelerating it with his feet. When he gained the momentum, he placed his feet on the metal and rode it across the room. “Real mature.”

“Don’t be an old hag.”

He accelerated again from the opposite end, then climbed on. Jason went faster this time and just narrowly missed a shelf.

“There’s another cart right there if you have the balls to join me.”

You placed your weight on your arm, watching Jason sprint from one end of the room to the next. With a loud grunt, knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, you jumped off the table.

You emptied the cart from the remaining books and pushed it to Jason’s side, who waited for you just by the shelves. “Jump when it speeds up.”

“I know what to do.”

He laughed. “Race you to the other side.”

You gripped on the handle firmly, watching the end of the room, the one lined with heavy bookshelves, and readied yourself. “GO.”

You sprinted the two carts and grabbed on with your life as you sped down the large enough room, feeling the air slightly cooler when it was rushing past your skin and hair. You laughed playfully, stopping just before you hit the shelf. “I win.”

“Are you kidding me? I was waiting for you.”

“One more lap.”

“You’re on.”

Again, you sped past the room. You held onto one side of the handle too hard and accidentally hit Jason’s cart, both of you almost tumbling to the ground. “I call foul!”

“It was an accident!” you laughed, then took the cart again to finish the lap. He caught up with you and you no longer stopped in between, continuously sprinting and jumping onto the metal all across the room. You rode past the shelves, the narrow aisles, narrowly missing the books. You almost hit the tables with the carts and you definitely hit the wall too hard when you stopped too late. Jason was trailing right beside you, then he went about his own route.

That’s when he purposefully hit the front your cart with your own, throwing you off on the ground. “FUCK”

He laughed too hard. “Come on. I have another game.”

Holding his hand out to you, you grabbed on and he pulled you up to your feet. You stood close to him, both of you still laughing. And you were staring too long at his face being close to yours. You pulled away from his lingering grip, looking at the ground.

Setting his own cart aside, he pulled on yours, settling it between the aisle of the shelves. It went straight through the longest path down the room, and you’d have to be lucky to miss the shelves. “Hop on.”

“Todd, if you throw me out the window-“

“Come on. Don’t be a pussy.”

You felt the rush, and you liked how free you felt rushing through the air. You climbed into the cart, grabbing hold of the edges and focused on the end of the room.

Jason leaned in to your ear. “Don’t scream.”

“JASON.”

He was incredibly strong, pushing you in the cart like you weighed nothing and sped through the room faster than he previously had. The cart was growling and was so ready to break apart, but you never felt that kind of thrill since you last rode a coaster. You definitely screamed, a high-pitched shriek you know Jason must never mention to anyone, ever. But you were also laughing your stomach out when Jason turned you around, sped to the other end again. And this time, his feet jumping onto the cart.

You threw your head back, laughing, then you caught a glimpse of his face flashing the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

Your laughter came to an abrupt stop when he stopped the cart too late and crashed against the shelf. You both stood still, watching it toppling like an unsteady jenga tower.

Holding your breath, you heard books fall to the floor, then the shaking mellowed down and you released your breaths when it finally stopped. Turning to Jason and falling into the cart laughing, you clutched at your stomach. “JESUS CHRIST.”

“Not funny!” he cried out, but even he was stifling a laugh. He walked over to the front and placed the books into the cart with you. Some fell on your lap, and you took the books from him and placed them to your side.

“At least we have something to do now.”

“Yeah. Especially since you put these books in the wrong shelf. These belong over there.” He pointed to a shelf nearby.

“Let’s fix it then,” you said, still not moving from the cart. He placed all the books from the floor onto you and moved the cart to the corner.

“You’re heavy.”

“Shut up. From now on, we shelf books this way.” You took a book from your lap and gave it to him, who placed the book in its right place.

“Top shelf,” you smirked.

“I know where to put them.” He took it from your hand and shoved it in place. You didn’t have many books to begin with, but even after that, he continued to push the cart, with you still hitching a ride, and you walked around the library to just look at all the books.

“Everything’s in the right section.”

“Because of me. You made a shit ton of mistakes.”

You threw your head back, looking at him. And from that angle you could see his glare turn into a smile. You leaned against the back of the cart, your head lightly touching his arm.

When you’ve managed to tour the whole library, you sat up.

“You're turn. Get in here.”

Jason wanted to laugh at that. “You’d never be able to lift me.”

“Watch me try.”

You hopped off the cart, pushing him aside from the handle. He shook his head, but eventually climbed on like you had. He was bigger than you, so he looked a lot more uncomfortable with his knees folded way up and his arms barely fitting inside the cart.

He was really heavy. But you managed. Pushing the cart slowly at first, Jason leaned in to the left side to steer you off. “Jason!”

“I see stray books. Go over there.”

You pushed the cart with whatever might you had. When you reached the desk, Jason took the books you previously set aside and placed them on his lap. “Braille,” he said. “These go all the way to the back.”

“I can handle this. I’m a big girl.”

You pushed the cart, eventually gaining speed, but it wasn’t nearly as fast as when he’d pushed you around. You reached the far back, with two sharp turns that nearly killed your back, then stopped with a loud breath.

“You're right. We should do this more often.”

You were panting by that time, and Jason handed you the books to place on the shelf. “Chop chop.”

-----

Two fucking am. The power was still out. Jason was definitely going to call the electricity company when you both get out of here. You were sat cross legged on one side of the long, narrow table, fiddling with your sleeves since you couldn’t sleep. He was laying on the same table but facing the opposite way, closing his eyes and feeling the beginnings of light slumber. His back was going to kill him eventually, but when the rush from that cart fiasco died down, he was so awfully tired.

Jason laid his head on his arm, closing his eyes as tightly as he could.

Then a warm, soothing melody started to buzz through his ears, a tune he’s never quite heard of before. His eyelids suddenly grew softer, feeling the humming song vibrate through him.

Where was it coming from?

He slowly opened his eyes, trying to find the source. Jason craned his head up to you, with your back turned to him, and realized you were the one humming.

You turned to him, and he went back to closing his eyes, pretending to sleep. “Jason?” you lightly asked, not enough to wake him if he was actually asleep. You turned your back around and crouched over to relax.

He wasn’t sleeping anymore, but he kept closing his eyes. A little while later, with you thinking he wasn’t conscious, he heard you actually start to sing.

 You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Anyplace is better

Starting from zero got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself I got nothing to prove

 Then you paused. Your voice was so soft and light, he never would’ve have heard it if there was anyone else in the room or if he wasn’t awake. You never would’ve sung if you knew he was, though.

You had the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard in his life.

 You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living

 Your voice was low, a beautiful, vibrating low. An alto. And there was that deep, breathy growl when you reached the lower notes with ease. A light vibrato at the end of the vowels, and there was that drowsy, slow feel to it that just made it seem like you didn’t make that much effort at all. At some points, you whispered the words, like your everyday screaming never affected your vocal chords at all.

There was a tug at his chest, his face started to burn up. He was wide awake by now, and there was that thudding within him that was too hard to ignore. And it worsened each time you breathed out the end of the verses.

You managed to finish the song, and by then, he was a mess.

You didn’t sing anything more, no matter how much he wished you would. He ended up fighting his tiredness, just in case he’d miss another song.

But right before he drifted to sleep, he realized he’d been smiling his cheeks off.

-----

Twelve hours.

You were stuck in the library.

For twelve fucking hours.

Both of you shot up from the table the moment you heard the chains outside the door clink to the ground. You and Jason raced out the door, and before the security guard could totally open it, you violently pushed it aside and raced out into the wide-open space of the driveway outside the gates. The poor guard looked puzzlingly at you. But since he was too old to care or even ask about what happened, he shrugged it off.

The cool air felt heavenly against your skin, and the bright sun, smiling back at you against your face. You spread your arms out and took in the breeze as much as you could. Jason was fanning himself with the collar of his shirt, raising his arms up the same way you were. “AHHHHH.” He screamed. And you did the same. The frustration went out the window as fast as you’d ran.

“FUCKING FINALLY.”

“THAT IS NEVER HAPPENING AGAIN.”

“NEVER.”

You faced the sky, still taking the deep, fresh intakes of air. Jason placed his hands on his hips and ruffled his sweat covered hair.

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Agreed,” you said. “Not even Ms. Peterson.”

“Not a single soul.”

You both faced each other, raising your brows, no longer from a glare or out of annoyance. Your body felt light. Your chest felt lighter. You were smiling.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Kudos to us for surviving.”

A high five. And you both laughed, still feeling that flush of relief flow throughout your limbs. No one was in school yet. It was Saturday, though. No one but a few of the faculty members were going to show up.

But the sky looked pink, mixed with a bright yellowish orange. The driveway never looked so clean, and the breeze was so wonderfully cold, with the autumn leaves still floating on the grass and the roads, you just felt happy. Your lingering gaze on Jason helped with that bright smile.

As if twelve hours in the library was nothing. As if it wasn’t torture at all.

As if it was, in fact, the most fun you’ve had in a single night in a long, long time.

“Walk safe.”

“Bye, Todd.”

Walking towards opposite ends of the sidewalk, hands on your sides and not in your pockets like you usually would. You couldn’t stop grinning.

Sparing one last glance behind you, seeing him get on his motorcycle, you turned to the corner of the street.

-----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-------

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH PLS TELL ME YOU ENJOYED THAT CUZ I CERTAINLY DID

THE SINGING SCENE IS REALLY INSPIRED BY LIZ GILLIES (REMEMBER THE READER IS BASED ON JADE WEST) SO THE FAST CAR SINGING SCENE WAS ACTUALLY INSPIRED BY THIS VIDEO

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nugget http-cherries shadowsndaisies 

[isnt-it-loverly]

little birdie (4)// five hargreeves

Warnings: blood

Summary: When Five lands in the Sparrow Academy, he must convince one of them to help him reset the timeline. 

Word count: 1800

Author note: sorry if this is bad, ive been in a rut as of late. Once again thank you so much for all the love and support. I hope you enjoy :)

part one, part two, part three part five

You knocked softly on the door of apartment 217. An elderly lady opened the door with a bright smile on her face. 

“Hello, my little birdie! It's been so long!” She said while pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. The wool of her sweater scratched against your skin, and the smell of freshly baked cookies and wild flowers filled your nose. She pulled away and placed her gaze on Five. 

“Oh, you’ve brought a friend!” She added gleefully. 

“Yes, Granny, this is um… Aidan! We met at the karate class my father has me in,” You explained. You hated lying to such a sweet old lady, but you knew the truth would be too much for her to understand. Plus you really didn’t have the time to explain everything. 

You turned back to Five and have a shrug of your shoulders. He was right, he didn’t need a normal name. Five was just too fitting. She moved closer to him and grabbed his cheek, making him very uncomfortable. 

“You’re father is just terrible for making you kids do that! Look how roughed up the pair of you are, come inside and we’ll get you cleaned up” She said solemnly. 

Five walked beside you and grabbed your arm firmly. Pulling you to the side he whispered a quick “what the hell” in your ear. 

“She thinks she’s my grandma,” you replied bluntly, “just go along with it.” 

Five sighed in exasperation, this was not helping him find his siblings. He followed you into the apartment begrudgingly, trusting that you were not just yanking his chain. The old woman excused herself and said she would bake a fresh batch of cookies. After she left you grabbed his sleeve and whispered, “follow me.”

You lead him into a side bedroom. It was small and quaint, very homey compared to the academy. 

“Remember when I said that I’ve lived a million lives? Gertrude was one of my first, I got stuck in her mind for weeks, and I learned a lot about her. Her husband died right before I got trapped in her noggin, so I switched some memories then added some new ones. I’ve been visiting ever since,” You explained. 

“Do your siblings know?” He asked, worry dripping in his tone. 

“Not to my knowledge, I don’t think they’d appreciate me having a life outside the academy,” you answered with a shrug. 

Five was utterly perplexed by you. You were an enigma, so eager to trust others, so kind, and selfless. How did you end up so different from the others? He watched as you opened a drawer of the cedar chest that was in front of the bed. 

“Sometimes, I like to take things from the people I’ve been. Just as little reminders. I think I have some clothes in here that might fit you,” you said with extreme focus. You pulled out a tee-shirt and jeans, something Five was not accustomed to. He turned his nose slightly.

“I’d rather choke on my own tongue than wear that,” He groaned. 

You shook your head in annoyance, pulling out a set of clean clothes for yourself as well. You enjoyed civilian wear, it made you feel normal and secure- something your academy uniform could never. 

“Just put on the damn clothes before I make you short stack,” you snapped back. Your eyes glowed s brighter blue for a moment and Five now knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. 

“At least turn your back,” he grumbled in response. 

You gave him a small laugh and did as you were told. You crawled to the other side of the bed and slipped on your new clothes as well. After a few minutes, Five gave you the clear. 

“Wow, unknit that eyebrow and wipe that frown off your face, and you look almost normal,” You said with a smile. 

It was true, he looked like a regular ole teenager. Something you know that he has never been. You give him a look over before your eyes stop at his forearm. An umbrella tattoo, of course, he would have one. 

Five noticed you staring, he followed your gaze to his arm. He lifted it so you could see it better, and an ever-present scowl on his face. 

“Do you have one?” He asked. 

You nodded solemnly and pushed up your sleeve. You placed your arm against his, the bird and the umbrella practically touching. You wondered why your Father loathed them so much and then it was quiet for a moment. 

“The houses of Capulet and Montague,” you spoke up in a mocking tone. 

“I didn’t ask you to betray your entire family,” He said. His voice was deep and rough, a sense of anger could be detected. 

“No, but you really twisted my arm showing me the whole apocalypse thing. I’m an empath idiot, your feelings became mine,” You were quick to snap back. 

Five liked that about you. You were nice and helpful, but you also knew when to stand your ground. He could compare you to a coin, two different sides yet well balanced. A perfect equilibrium. 

“I’ve helped you,” you murmured, “now I think you owe me.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, curious and intrigued at what you were going to say. 

“I’ve only done this once and it didn’t end well. I need you to keep me grounded, do whatever it takes to get me back. My father believes that I can project my consciousness onto someone without looking into their eyes, so I’m going to try to do that to your sister, Allison,” you explained. 

“You said it didn’t end well? What happened?” Five asked, very concerned. 

“It takes a lot out of me, I couldn’t get into anyone’s mind and it almost killed me,” You confessed. 

“I’m sorry, did you say killed?” He responded wide-eyed. It warmed your heart that he was at least concerned about you. 

“Look, do you wanna find your family or not? Unless you have a better plan?” You asked with a slight raise of your voice. 

Five shook his head, knowing that this was the best plan You sat on the plush bed, curling your fingers around the soft comforter. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes tightly. Running the fabric between your fingers you counted every stitch. You pictured his sister’s face in your mind, paying extra intention to her eyes. Five watched intently as you did, he was worried about you- you were an important asset and a powerful ally. It would be a shame if you died. Your eyes opened abruptly and to Five’s amazement and horror there was just white and a soft blue emanating from them. 

When you opened your eyes again to find yourself sitting at a kitchen table. Looking up you see Allison sitting across from you, intently reading the newspaper. If she was there, then who were you? Looking down and the palms of your hands the words ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ were splayed across them. 

“Well shit, I’m the pretty one,” You mumbled to yourself. Although you were very glad and very surprised that you had managed to pull this off, you would have to thank your father for the extra training the past few months. 

“What are you on about now, Klaus?” Allison said utterly unamused. 

“Actually it’s number five. Not your Five, the other five. Sparrow Five. Ya know what I’m rambling, I’m (Y/n),” You spit out quickly. Holy shit this man’s brain was fried. Everything was happening at a million miles an hour, you couldn’t keep up.

You watched as her expression changed, she stood up abruptly in the same fighting stance Five had used earlier. Her eyes watched you like a hawk and if looks could kill you’d be dead. 

“Your family killed my brother, now I swear if you harm one hair on Klaus’ stupid head. I’ll end you,” She spat venom dripping in her words. 

“He’s not dead! Five is very much alive, and we’re looking for you guys. So all we need is an address and we will be on our way,” You replied with a smile. 

“Yeah right, why would I trust you?” She questioned. 

“Look, Five is hurt really badly. This astral possession thing is gonna knock me on my ass, I won’t be able to protect him from my siblings. If you don’t help us, well, we’re both already dead,” You said in a somber tone. 

 You could tell that the gears we’re winding in her head. You felt a pain in your head that radiates in your chest, you coughed slightly and blood appeared on your hands. Shit its starting, you couldn’t stay much longer. You felt blood begin to slowly drip from your nose. Double shit with a cherry on top.

“What are you doing to him?” She yelled.

“Allison,” you choked, “he needs you.”

“Fine, just stop whatever you are doing to him!” She yelled in fear of her brother, Moments later she revealed the address, perfect that’s all you needed. Now you could get back and share your triumph. 

You closed your eyes tightly and the world began to spin. Round and round, faster and faster.  Until finally, you felt your legs give out but you didn’t hit the floor. You opened your eyes slowly to find yourself in Five’s arms. He was looking down at you, fear present in those emerald eyes. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God, you started pouring out blood like a fountain. I thought you were dead,” He scolded. He sounded like an old man when he spoke, it was almost endearing. 

You touched your nose and wiped away some of the fresh blood, staring at it intently. You felt so weak, that was too much and you vowed never to do that again. The cost was far too high. You sat up and you felt Five’s hand on your back- ready to steady you if you need it. You had really scared him, he didn’t know why. He had just met you, so why did the thought of losing you hurt so badly.

“I did it,” You mumbled hoarsely. 

“Did what?” Five whispered in a soft voice. The tone was foreign even to him, but right now he felt like you needed a friend and not a sarcastic asshole. 

“I found them, I found your family. They aren’t far from here,” You breathed out. 

Five hugged you tightly and gave you a sincere thank you. You hugged back gently, you couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged you. It was a feeling you could get used to, warm, secure, and safe. You also couldn’t remember the last time you felt any of those things. Perhaps these umbrellas weren’t so bad after all.

“Come on,” You said breaking away, “let’s get some of those cookies, hit the road, and get you back to the right timeline.”

Taglist: alexander-hamilhoe

[kigozula]

A Sokkla Fic inspired by the Story of Jake Long & Rose from American Dragon. Sokka finds out who is Love really is and an adventure is beginning. Will Azula and Sokka be able to live their love?

Chapter 1

She was strong as always and her eyes didn't make it easier for him. Those beautiful eyes.

Ever since he officially found out who she is, he kept losing the fights against the clan. It felt out of his control. He has always been weak when it came to her. That girl he is interested in, since the first time he met her.

They barely talked in battles. He especially stopped talking since he didn't want her to know who he is.

His friends had warned him several times that the likelihood that Azula was the Huntsgirl was extremely high. Though part of him thought so too, he tried to push away those possibilities and just ignore. He was afraid to put mountains between her and himself.

But her eyes could be seen. The rest of her face was covered. Only her ponytail and her eyes were visible. The Huntsclan were wearing matching suits. Only the Huntsmaster, the leader of the Huntsclan, had a different suit. He was always wearing a cape and a helmet resembling the head of an animal.

Suddenly the earth beneath their feet began shaking. They stopped fighting for a moment. A landslide. The earth was sliding down from the mountain and they had to act quickly. Sokka instinctively ran towards Azula to save her from the landslide. Both fell down, but what mattered was that they were save now.

"What is this now?" Azula stood up with difficulty. "Who do you think you are? Are you a superhero saving his enemy to make friends? Forget it!"

Sokka didn't say anything.

"I am Huntsgirl! I will have to end you someday. This is my goal Water Fighter!" she said with determination.

They heard the rest of the clan coming and Sokka ran to his fighters.

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

She was putting her books in order when she saw him standing at the end of the hall. She smiled and walked up to him.

"Hey Sokka, sorry I couldn't join the learning session yesterday. My uncle needed my help." she said.

Sokka gave her a sad smile. "That's okay, I had other things to do as well."

The school bell rang. "I should be going now." And with that he turned around and walked to his classroom.

He still looked lovingly at her, but she sensed something bad. It seemed like the shyness and excitement in his eyes were replaced by sadness. He didn't approach or talk to her as he used to. Instead, he looked at her from afar and turned around when she saw him. As if they were completely strangers to each other.

Azula looked at the direction where he was standing seconds ago.

Did he lose interest?

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

Azula and Sokka went to the Fire Nation Academy. They were on the same grade. Sokka immediately had a crush on Azula when he first saw her. She liked him too.

He became a bundle of nerves near her and could never gather himself to ask her out. Every time he was close to be brave enough, Chan, the rich boy of their school would pop out, ruin the moment and start flirting with Azula. His attitude made Sokka boil in anger.

Due to a school project, they had the opportunity to meet outside of the school. Both were excited. But their meeting was not ideal since both had their obligations. Their secret identities.

The Huntsgirl and the Water Fighter.

The Huntsclan and the Water Fighters were enemies. The Huntsclan, leaded by the Huntsmaster named Zhao, wanted power. Their first goal to gain that said power was to eliminate their biggest enemies.

The Water Fighters started as a small group in the Fire Nation, to protect people in their town from any harm. They grew more and more. They didn't have an official leader, but Hakoda was in charge of Sokka. He trained him and was like a teacher for him. As time went by, Sokka became a capable fighter. He led his group quite often.

The Water Fighters were completely covered while fighting. Only a narrow slit could be seen on the mask. You'd have to get very close to even see the eyes.

Unbeknownst in the beginning, Azula and Sokka were in truth enemies fighting against each other. But Sokka found it out someday. Since then, the energy between Azula and Sokka, as well as Huntsgirl and the Water Fighter changed. Sokka couldn't reach his full potential when he was fighting against the Huntsclan when Huntsgirl was there. Which was slightly becoming a problem. In school, he was just the sad boy looking lovingly and hopeless at the girl he fell in love with. Trying hard to stay away from her…

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

"Sokka, stop sulking already she is the enemy! Accept that. She would kill you without hesitation!" Toph said.

"Lu Ten told us that the big hunt is tomorrow. It's only a matter of time for her to find out who you are." Haru added.

"I know. I know." Sokka said while walking home. "That's exactly what I'm fearing. If she finds it out, I won't see her smiling at me ever again."

Coming home, he went to bed early. Tomorrow was a ritual named "The Big Hunt". He didn't know the exact details of how it worked and he didn't feel like thinking about it either. He lay on his bed and looked at the ceiling with bleary eyes. They had shared some good moments together. He called back their memory of how they tried to practice for the school theater...

"The Dragon Princess and the Dragon Prince!" the teacher explained. "I have chosen two talented classmates, because it has the highest priority for our art education on our great academy."

"Azula will be our Dragon Princess and the perfect Dragon Prince is: Sokka!"

Sokka almost fell from his chair. Full of enthusiasm he looked at Azula, who smiled back at him. How did the teacher think of him as talented when it came to a theater play? He didn't know but he didn't care either. What mattered was, that he could spend time with Azula.

"Yes! Uhm, I mean yeah for sure. I will be the best Dragon Prince." he said. Fact was, that he had little trust in himself when it came to acting. But he would never waste a chance to be close to Azula.

"I have no qualms about that. Your friends have said that you are passionate when it comes to art." said the teacher smiling.

Sokka looked at his left finding his friends smiling nervously at him. He would thank them for their kindness for sure. Toph and Haru were the best friends he could imagine.

Azula and Sokka had met at the Tea Shop which belonged Lu Ten and his father that afternoon. He was nervous, in love, and sweet. She on the other hand tried to stay professional and focused on the script.

"I assume you know the famous story of the Dragon Princess and the Dragon Prince?" she asked him.

"Uh, yeah of course I do!" he smiled at her. He didn't know the full tale.

Azula was aware of how often he tried to lie to her to seem cool. She didn't think it was necessary but never complained. If, then it flattered her a little to know that he tried to be 'better' for her in everything. But she liked him the way he was, although she would never say it out loud.

"The teacher mentioned that act number nine is the most important one. So, I would suggest for us to start practicing with that part." Azula told him.

"Yes let's begin with it!" Until he realized what that meant.

"What!? Act number nine? You mean that act with..."

"If it's okay for you of course." Azula replied.

The Dragon Princess and the Dragon Prince would kiss in that act. Of course, Sokka would be the happiest if he kissed Azula, but he was nervous. Extremely nervous because he never expected so much of their meeting. But he needed to collect himself. There was absolutely no one he would or could do this with. If it would be another girl, he wouldn't even accept the role. He wanted to share every special experience with Azula and only with Azula.

Azula on the other hand didn't seem nervous at all. On the outside at least. She was also a bit unsure, if not as much as Sokka. She would not do that if it would be someone else, but she didn't want him to know that yet.

"Of course, it is, hehe, I mean of course I am... I am experienced in kissing!" he said and had a small flashback of his 'experiences'.

"Good night mommy!" said little Sokka and pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek. "Good night my love." replied his mother.

"This is your little sister Sokka." his parents said. "I love you Katara and I will always protect you from bad guys!" he told his baby sister in his arms and gave her a kiss on her tiny hand.

"Hello Teddy, I missed you!" and gave his favorite toy a kiss.

After practicing the beginning of the act they finally reached to scene in which they would kiss.

They put the script aside and looked into each other's eyes.

Sokka's mind was exploding. “It's just a kiss Sokka, it's just a kiss. Just a kiss with the girl you love. Calm down boy you can do that.”

Yet when he was looking into her eyes, his nervousness started to fade away.

Their faces started nearing each other and Azula closed her eyes. Just as he was about to close his too and press his lips onto hers, an unexpected guest rushed to them.

"Sokka! You have to come!" said Lu Ten.

At the same time, Azula saw a hawk waiting at the window. She knew her Uncle, the Huntsmaster was calling her.

That was it with their first kiss. It ended before it started.

The theater play didn't take place either because Azula had 'family responsibilities'. Today he understood what those responsibilities really had been.

He fell asleep while thinking about every moment with her.

[satoruvt]

the color of you - you (7)

thank u for reading. this was an amazing ride. i hope this last chapter is as meaningful to u as it is to me.

pairing → keigo takami x reader

word count → 3249

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → kill my time and best years by 5sos and the Tiniest bit of eight by iu x suga!!!

this chapter → y/n’s sad, two cute girls, a text, a talk, kisses, a happy ending for our favorite idiots in love.

warnings → super emotional sex at the end lol

It’s taken a while for you to get to functioning level. A while, you think, because it’s been two weeks and you just now are starting to take note of the dirty dishes in your sink and the pile of laundry in the corner of your room that you haven’t washed yet. Because it’s been two weeks and most nights you lay in your bed and sit there and stare at the wall. Because it’s been two weeks and you still replay what you said, over and over in your head, because it’s been two weeks and you have to will yourself not to cry when you see Keigo on news reports on TV or in the local newspaper.

A while. And you’re still not… okay, yet. It might take a while longer to get there.

The days go by quickly. You spend your time baking, like usual, but it’s lonesome now. It was never lonesome before Keigo - tiring, sure, but it never made you lonely. He never helped you out anyways, he sat on top of your counters and snuck spoonfuls of cake batter and icing like a brat (and pouted when you said no more, like a brat). And when you’re not baking, you’re scrolling mindlessly through social media. Or crying. Or laying in your bed. Or all three, at once, on the worst nights, because this shit sucks.

In retrospect, you have no idea why this hurts so much. Keigo and you, despite legal arrangements, were never really dating. He was never yours to lose. He was a friend, when it came down to labels. Fake boyfriend, if you really wanna be technical. That’s it, though, nothing else - you two are - were - friends.

Still, it hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts so much sometimes you think you feel it physically; some nights ago you thought about it and almost-felt a bright flash of pain over your heart, like your brain expected it to happen but it didn’t. You cried for a bit after that. Ran yourself a bath at near-three in the morning, soaked emotionlessly in the hot water in the quiet. It didn’t make you feel much better, not really, but it soothed you at least for a short time.

You’re walking to Angel Cakes (the clouds are painted different shades of gray, so you hurry just in case it starts to rain) when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Your music stops - a call, it seems - and when you pull your phone out to see the number you see it’s Keigo’s publicist. You figured it was coming, but - again - it’d been a while, so it still takes you a bit by surprise.

You don’t even get to murmur out a greeting before the guy’s speaking. “Why did you call it off so suddenly?”

You blink, sigh, don’t even bother with a hello anymore. “I just… couldn’t do it,” you answer, and it’s at least kind of true. Vague, but true.

Keigo’s publicist sighs, this time, and you can almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well, legally, you’ve only got three weeks left to keep this up. You don’t have to talk to him often, but don’t make it obvious something happened. Do you think you can do that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“If it really bothers you, I won’t pressure you. Neither will Hawks. But I hope you stick around for what little time is left.”

The call ends with a gentle “okay” on your end, and then his publicist thanks you and hangs up. By the time you put your phone back into your pocket you’ve arrived at the bakery. You walk through the front, offer a few of your employees a tight-lipped smile, then make your way directly into the kitchen.

The day is so slow and so fast at the same time. It seems to take hours to mix ingredients, but proving dough for three and a half hours seems like fifteen minutes. That’s how it’s been lately - slow and fast and stagnant and flowing all at the same time. You stopped, but the world didn’t, and it makes you dizzy to try and catch up. Somehow it happens, but you feel barely there.

You’re usually just in the kitchen most days - you are the head baker - but all you’re doing is waiting for a few batches of cupcakes to cook, and it’s a busy day, so you decide the front of the house could use some help. You tell one of your employees to go on their break while you take over at the register.

The customers come and go; you write down names, call out orders and hand out pastries and coffees. Two girls walk in at one point - memorable, since one of them has bright pink skin and they’re both wearing UA uniforms, you recognize - and you smile at them when they come up to the counter, but they don’t order anything.

“Can we have a picture?” The pink girl asks, eyes blinking at you. You furrow your brows.

“What? Why?” is your first reaction, and the other girl - who has pink cheeks and a cute bob - speaks.

“You’re Hawks’ girlfriend! We love you,” she says, adding the last part shyly, and both of them look up at you hopefully.

Her words send you into a brief moment of thought - you miss Keigo. You’ve known that you do, it never leaves, it’s always in the back of your mind at the very least, but seeing these girls, knowing they’ve followed yours and Keigo’s relationship, knowing they fully believe you and him are together… it does something to you.

Nonetheless, the gesture is nice, and it makes you smile genuinely for the first time in a while. “Okay,” you agree, chuckling at their delighted giggles. They turn around, the pink girl holds her phone out to catch the three of you in a photo, and you throw up a peace sign and the cutest face you know how to do. As icing on the cake, they both order something to go, too. You call out a thank you for your support as they exit through the doors, grinning back at you.

The thought of Keigo lingers in your mind as your employee from before comes back out and you retreat into the kitchen once more.

-

You need to tell Keigo.

If he doesn’t already know. You need to tell him, because ever since those girls visited the bakery, you can’t stop thinking about it. You need to tell him because regardless of how much easier it is, you hurt him by not just explaining that he didn’t do anything, and there’s only, like, two weeks left until the contract is done, and if he never wants to see you again, he won’t have to.

You need to tell him.

You unlock your phone, finding your messages app and then Keigo’s contact. He’s sent a few texts since the two of you last talked in person (all asking if you’d be willing to sit down and talk) but he hasn’t sent anything in a while. Before you lose the little courage you have, you type out the message and send it.

y/n

can we talk?

Keigo responds almost immediately, and somehow it makes you feel worse about everything.

keigo

Yeah, of course

You tell him to come to the bakery after closing tomorrow, and he says he’ll be there. You put your phone facedown onto your sheets and breathe.

-

The next day isn’t slow and fast. It’s just fucking fast. Fast enough that it seems like only a few hours pass between when you get there and closing, and then you send all of your employees home and you’re wiping down the counters and waiting for Keigo to show up. Because you’re talking to him today. Because you’re going to tell him you love him. Wow.

You’re turning your open sign over so it projects “closed” to the outside world when you see him. He stands outside the doors, watching you watch him, and when you make eye contact with him it’s like a breath of fresh air and pollution all at once. Both of you stay where you’re at, still, until you see him offer a small smile and you don’t feel as tense, not anymore. He opens the door and you move to throw a dirty rag behind the counter.

“Hey,” Keigo says after a moment. He stands in the middle of tables, hands in his pockets, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Hi,” you respond, and God, it’s so awkward. “Um, do you - do you want anything? I could make coffee, or - I have, like, two leftover donuts from today, I know you like them.”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

It’s so awkward. You nod, then gesture to an open booth in the dining area for both of you to sit. Keigo does and you follow, sitting on the opposite side. You get strange deja vu from it. There’s silence for a moment, but then you can’t stop yourself from speaking, opening your mouth a few times to get the right sounds formulated in your head.

“I’m so sorry, Keigo,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes. He looks confused, brows furrowed. “I didn’t mean to - to do this, I never thought I would, I’m just - God, I’m so sorry. I fucked everything up. I did this to us.”

“No, what?” Keigo responds. You fiddle with your fingers on your lap. “This wasn’t just you, what are you talking about?”

Your heart is pounding. You want to look at him, to see him, drink him in because you’re pretty sure it’ll be the last time you’re able to, but tears sting your eyes and you can’t see properly, so you keep your head down. “It was,” you murmur instead, wiping whatever’s slipped out as briefly as you can before looking out the window. The street in front of Angel Cakes is empty. In your peripheral vision you see Keigo tense, lean away from the table between you.

“You have to say it,” he tells you. He knows. He knows, he knows - time moves in slow motion, when you turn your head, when he blinks, the way he sounds when he speaks.

“I love you, Keigo,” you say. It comes out so easily. Too easily. It feels so right to say it, even despite the circumstances.

It’s so quiet. It reminds you of the night of the conference, and you know what’s going to happen. He’ll leave. You know it’s coming, he -

“Really?” Keigo asks, and why is he grinning like that?

“Yeah, I -”

“Holy shit. Holy shit - Y/N, me too. I love you too.”

What?

Keigo laughs like he’s relieved and you can’t move, can’t breathe, all you can do is look at him. He looks so beautiful and you blink yourself out of your trance, licking your lips before you speak again.

“You - too? You feel the same?”

“Yeah. Have for a while.”

A moment passes, but then you furrow your brows - “Why the hell didn’t you say anything? Do you know how much time that could have saved both of us?”

Keigo laughs, and it’s genuine and you know it is because his eyes crinkle at the ends. He shrugs, remnants of a smile still on his lips, when he finally speaks. “I thought you knew, and you didn’t feel the same. I figured that’s why you were acting weird, why you told me to leave after the conference.”

You need to move. You stand up, exit the booth, pace a little before stopping. “No, I…” you pause, running a hand through your hair. “I realized how I felt and thought you didn’t feel the same at all, and I didn’t want to tell you and have it ruin everything, because so much is at stake with your image and the bakery -”

Amidst your ramblings, Keigo had stood up as well, standing in front of you. He shushes you and you let him, looking up at him.

“So what I’m understanding is that we’re both fucking idiots?” He questions, and you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah,” you say, still smiling. “I think so.”

The two of you just stand there for a moment, basking, before the thought hits you: you can kiss him. You could kiss him before, sure, but that was… for his image, for the contract. You can kiss him for you. You can kiss him because you want to.

You barely lean forward, but Keigo seems to get the message. You go slow - you don’t want to scare him away, you don’t want to scare yourself away. You want to remember this forever. But you close your eyes and feel your way through it, sigh when your nose bumps his and then you’re kissing him, for real, for you. And it’s so much better than it ever was before, because you know he loves you, he loves you.

It’s short, but you let yourself sink into it, fall into Keigo like you never let yourself do before. His arms wrap around your waist as yours come around his shoulders and you stay like that for a minute, feeling and breathing and loving, before the two of you break away.

“You’re really good at that, hero,” you say, just like the first time, and Keigo grins. A thought crosses your mind and you take half a step away from him. “So, um, the bakery’s closed, and I was just gonna head home but would - do you - do you want to come with me? To, uh, to my place?”

You’re sure you sound stupid, stuttering and fumbling over your words, but when you meet Keigo’s eyes he looks like he couldn’t be more enthralled by an invitation. So you grab your things and lock up Angel Cakes and the two of you are at your apartment in fifteen minutes flat.

You unlock your door, throw your things down on the couch and turn around to face Keigo, who’s still at the door.

“Be honest,” he starts, “did you bring me here to kill me?”

“Obviously,” you answer quickly, and he laughs and you laugh and it’s so much better than before because he pulls you close again and presses giggly kisses against your lips and you do too. And then giggly kisses turn to kisses, and kisses turn deeper.

They’re deep enough that it’s getting kind of hard to breathe correctly, and when his hands move on you you sigh. He turns his mouth down to kiss at your neck and you swallow, relishing in the feeling of his tongue against your skin, before letting out a hoarse call of “bedroom,” which you feel Keigo grin at.

He stops his assault, though, and lets you lead him to your bed. You gently push him onto it, get him to sit down, then pull away enough to take your shirt off and when it’s off he just stares for a moment. It makes you a bit too aware of the fact that you’re here, with Keigo, and this is very obviously leading somewhere, but then he makes cute grabby hands at you and you giggle as you situate yourself between his legs. 

It takes little time for both of you to strip down completely, never leaving each others’ hold for more than a few seconds. You end up under Keigo as he preps you, curls his fingers into you until you’re mewling and gasping into his open mouth.

“Keigo,” you call, but more to ground yourself. Euphoria shoots from your core to your toes to the top of your head. “Please, I - I need -“

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, silvertongued and sweet, “I’ll give you anything, just ask.”

A million cheeky responses run through your head but then one of his fingers rubs over your clit and you want to sob. “You. You, Kei, only you, just -“

Keigo groans, pulling his fingers away from you only to mumble a disgruntled “where the hell are the condoms” and when you giggle breathlessly he sends you a playful glare. You reach a blind hand to your bedside table, pull open the drawer with a bang and don’t even bother to shut it after you’ve pulled out a condom. 

He’s quick to put it on (and you pretend you aren’t absolutely mesmerized by his hands as he tears open the package), and once he’s pressed up against your entrance he looks up at you, a lingering question of “you’re sure?” and you nod.

“Love you,” Keigo gasps as he enters you. “God, I love you.”

His words make your heart swell and he pauses, letting you adjust to him before you ease him into a rhythm with a gentle roll of your hips. He feels like honey, warm and slow, taking his time with you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He feels so good and sounds so beautiful and you love him, you love him, you -

Neither of you are rushing, and there’s no need to. You’re already close, your sighs and whimpers rising. You look up at Keigo and sweat shimmers on him like gold, drenched in the lingering blue light of the sunset - he reminds you of the world. Beautiful and true and glowing. You tell him you’re close and your voice is wrecked with emotion and his eyes are bright, bright.

“Thank god, I was never gonna last long,” he says, and you chuckle as best you can, air stripped from your lungs with every drag of him inside of you. “You drive me crazy.”

One of your hands runs down from around his neck, traces up until it rests on his cheekbone. He looks so gorgeous like this - gentle yet exasperated, hair curling wildly around his face and mouth hung open. He leans into your touch and moves his hips faster, and the one hand that isn’t occupied with touching him runs down between both of your bodies until your own fingers reach your clit, tracing circles until you explode.

Your orgasm rips through you slow and sweet like something you’ve seen coming from miles away. As you come down from your high, Keigo’s just reaching his, and you swear to any deity you can that it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. His wings unfold and spread in a flash of bright red, eyes clenched shut and he moans, letting himself fall further on top of you. He doesn’t let his entire body weight collapse onto you, and you lazily pull your arms around him as he shudders under your touch. 

The two of you lay there like that for some time, simply basking in each other. Eventually Keigo pulls out of you and disposes of the condom, and the second he gets back into bed he’s curling himself into your arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You close your eyes and smile into his hair.

“I love you,” you tell him. “Thank you for letting me love you.”

“You’re welcome,” he responds, and you scoff, but he takes himself out of your neck to look directly at you. “Thank you for giving me a chance to be loved by you,” he says. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

All the colors in your universe appear in him.

[mel-at-dusk]

SEX, LIES AND CHEAP COLOGNE: AN ORAL HISTORY OF ABERCROMBIE & FITCH’S SOFTCORE PORN MAG

The story of how an oversexed, strangely intellectual magazine by a polo shirt brand completed the improbable task of changing the course of sexuality in America’s malls, homes and moose-print boxers

Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries was a shrewd businessman, but he didn’t always make the best decisions. Between the blatantly racist T-shirts he signed off on, the child thongs he called “cute” and the series of public statements he made admitting that his brand intentionally excluded anyone who wasn’t “cool” and “good-looking” with “great attitudes and a lot of friends,” it’s no wonder that he spent the majority of his reign at Abercrombie in hot water. (For the uninitiated, Abercrombie made what fashion writer Natasha Stagg calls “sexy versions of the clothes kids already wore to school: T-shirts and jeans, stuff you could toss a football in or throw on the grass if everyone decided to go skinny-dipping.” More importantly, as she writes in her book Sleeveless, it was “for those who were casually peaking in high school.” It, meanwhile, peaked in the 1990s.)

An exception to Jeffries’ questionable CEO-ing would be A&F Quarterly, the glorious, controversial and questionably pornographic “magalog” he created at the height of the brand’s popularity in 1997 in order to connect “youth and sex” to its image. Woven in amongst surprisingly thoughtful interviews with A-list humans like Spike Lee, Bret Easton Ellis, Rudy Guiliani and Lil’ Kim was a cascade of naked photos from photographer Bruce Weber which showed nubile youngs in various states of undress. They were frolicking, they were caressing and they were deep in the throes of experimenting with types of sex that — at the time — had never been portrayed by mainstream brands.

With issue titles such as “XXX,” “The Pleasure Principle” and “Naughty and Nice,” the Quarterly dove headfirst into the risque. During its 25-issue run between 1997 and 2003, it printed interviews with porn star Jenna Jameson, offered sex advice on how to “go down” in public and suggested — on multiple occasions — that its readers dabble in group sex. One issue published an article on how to be a “Web exhibitionist,” another featured a Slovenian philosopher barking orders to “learn sex” at school and big-dick Ron Jeremy even stopped by to talk about performing oral sex on himself and using a cast made from his own penis.

The actual Abercrombie clothing being modeled in the magalog was an afterthought, appearing in Weber’s photos as more of an impediment to nudity than an actual, purchasable item. The whole thing was, as journalist Harris Sockel put it in an Human Parts essay, “20 percent merch, 20 percent talk and 100 percent soft-core aspirational porn.”

None of this would have been vexing had a more adult-oriented brand been the ones hawking it, but Abercrombie & Fitch was — and still is — marketed toward suspiciously toned teenage field hockey players named Brett. Though he might have looked like a man in his big salmon-pink polo, Brett was but a child. Abercrombie was fond of saying its clothing was for college-aged clientele, but we all knew where its real haute runway took place — inside the crowded halls of every middle school in Ohio.

The Quarterly, too, was intended for college kids, and to prove it, Abercrombie shrink-wrapped it in plastic and sold only to those over 18 for $6 a pop. You could buy it as a subscription, of course, but it was more commonly found in-store, nestled alongside A&F’s cargo shorts and “thongs for 10-year-olds,” a questionable placement that prompted concerned parents, conservatives and Christians to accuse Abercrombie of sullying their children’s minds with impure thoughts.

As such, the Quarterly became the subject of a mounting number of boycotts, protests and controversies that some believe were responsible for its eventual demise. By the time circulation peaked at 1.2 million in 2003, it had been denounced by organizations like the National Coalition for the Protection of Children and Families, Mothers Against Drunk Driving, the American Decency Association, Focus on the Family, the National Organization for Women and, of course, the Catholic League.

Yet the outrage against the Quarterly was matched — if not exceeded — by its cult following, who found its frank portrayal of sexuality to be transcendent. Journalists, artists and the teens whose hands it fell into adored the magazine, and its rarity — plus its utter absurdity — makes it a sought-after collector’s item to this day.

At the same time, few people know about the Quarterly and even fewer realize what it meant to the generations of young people discovering themselves and their sexualities through the unlikely lens of branded content. As journalist Emily Lever puts it, “There’s no weirder way to learn about sex than to pick up a magazine by Abercrombie & Fitch — a brand for hot, mean mostly white kids who shoved you into lockers — but, I guess I’ll take it?”

This is the story of how an oversexed and strangely intellectual magazine by a polo shirt brand completed the improbable task of changing the course of sexuality in America’s malls, homes and moose-print boxers.

AND IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WAS ASS

The first issue A&F Quarterly debuted in June 1997. With 70-ish pages of full-color hard bodies, it was relatively tame compared to later editions, but it quickly became popular when Abercrombie’s nubile clientele realized it was a paper-backed portal into an adult world of sex, nudity and the kind of unbridled sensory hedonism their parents warned them about. As rumors of its legend began to spread, people began to wonder: What the hell is A&F Quarterly, and why is it printing ass for teens?

Emily Lever, journalist and chronicler of the Quarterly’s absurdist philosophical leanings: A&F Quarterly was an in-house magazine put together by Abercrombie & Fitch that published a who’s who of literati to accompany their images of young adult and teen bodies in order to hawk expensive distressed jeans and polo shirts to kids who would shove you inside a locker.

Alissa Quart, author of Branded: The Buying and Selling of Teenagers and director of the Economic Hardship Reporting Project: From what I recall, it had a Bruce Weber-y vibe — gorgeous young men and teens unapologetically objectified, a leering retro pin-up element, also sort of like the highly stylized, sexed-up, nostalgic 1980s and 1990s black-and-white Guess ads. Men — boys, really — were photographed without their shirts, elaborately muscled abs, sometimes naked.

Harris Sockel, in his Human Parts essay: [It was] Playboy crossed with Fratmen.com and a bit of Field & Stream. The Quarterly made my hormones do a kick line across my frontal lobe. I wanted to nibble the soy ink for snack until sunrise. To absorb it so deeply I sweat grey drops onto my pillow. To rip a page from that issue and fold it into a paper flower and stick it all the way up my ass until it came out my mouth.

Lever: Yeah, it was hot. But it was also extraordinarily literary. It featured big-time thinkers, writers and philosophers — stuff that was supposedly intended to expand your mind. It was way too high-brow for the average Abercrombie teen, and its existence made almost no sense given what the brand represented.

Savas Abadsidis, editor-in-chief, 1997-2003: There was nothing else like it. We were the first mainstream brand to combine playful, irreverent, intellectual content with sex and youth in this beautiful, high-art magazine format. Was it controversial? Sure. But it made the entire country take notice.

What they didn’t necessarily see, however, was what was going on behind the scenes. Not only were we the first brand to do this kind of advertising, we were also the first big brand to normalize gay culture for a mainstream audience, expose America’s youth to some of the era’s most progressive thinkers and use our platform to address sexuality in a useful, hands-on way. And you wouldn’t necessarily expect that from Abercrombie. That’s what made it so cool.

It all began in 1996. I was 22 and working at a temp job for a prominent New York architect who happened to be friends with Sam Shahid, a big-time creative director for Calvin Klein, Banana Republic and later, Abercrombie & Fitch. He was looking for an assistant. I had taken a deferment to go to law school and was looking for a job for that interim year, so I applied. I got in.

It was a horrible gig at first. Just awful, Devil Wears Prada-type stuff. I left crying many nights. But I had two things going for me. The first was that Abercrombie had a really small office in the West Village. Mike Jeffries, the president and CEO of Abercrombie, used to come in. He wore flip flops, had a desk made out of a surfboard and began each sentence with the word “Dude.”

Mike Jeffries, ex-CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch, speaking to Salon in 2006: Dude, I’m not an old fart who wears his jeans up at his shoulders.

Abadsidis: I didn’t know it at the time, but Mike was gay (I wouldn’t find out until much later). I think that was part of the reason why he and Sam — who was also gay — took me under their wing. They actually didn’t realize that I was, too — it’s not like we all sat around a bonfire at Fire Island and talked about how us gay guys were infiltrating Abercrombie — but that dynamic dovetailed nicely with Bruce’s photography for both the brand and the Quarterly, and it certainly set the tone for what was to come. I was grateful to get what amounted to an unofficial apprenticeship from both Mike and Sam, and eventually, they had me doing much more involved tasks than I was hired to do.

One of them was sitting in on important meetings. At the time, Mike was inviting all these different editors from magazines like Interview, Men’s Journal and Rolling Stone to come in and brainstorm ideas for what the Quarterly could be, but their ideas were flat. They felt like ideas coming from 45-year-olds writing for college kids, and I could tell Mike was getting frustrated by how little they seemed to grasp what he wanted.

One day in a meeting, one of the magazine editors threw out an idea. Without even acknowledging him, Mike turned to me. “Savas,” he asked. “What do you think about that?”

My mind raced — I could tell he was testing me. If I flubbed the answer, I’d be done. I briefly considered censoring myself, but then I thought better. What did I have to lose? I was young. Surely, I’d find another summer job. “I don’t think it’s a great idea,” I told him.

Apparently, that was the right answer. Mike practically threw the guy out of the room.

After that, I started to think more about what I’d want to see out of a magazine. I was just out of college as a French comparative literature major at Vassar, and I was super into that sort of 1950s-style Esquire journalism with the dapper closing essay. I was deep into The New Yorker, Interview Magazine, 1990s-era Details, MAD Magazine and 1980s pop star mags like Tiger Beat, too — those were all an influence. I also loved philosophy, social theory and comics. And graphic novels. You know — college stuff. Then it hit me: If the magazine was for people like me, why not get actual college kids — not 50-year-olds — to create our content?

I suspected my ideas were what they were looking for and knew they’d look fresh compared to what other editors were throwing out, so I decided to take a risk. I got up at 2 a.m. and typed out a 20-page proposal for what I thought the Quarterly should be. The next morning, I faxed a copy to Mike. I left another on Sam’s desk.

About a (very anxious) week later, Sam called me into his office and told me to pick up his phone. Mike was on the other line. As I reached for the receiver, he leaned over to me and said, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I didn’t even have time to comprehend what that meant before Mike’s voice was in my ear. “Congratulations, kid,” he told me. “You get one shot.”

Shortly thereafter, I was promoted from Sam’s assistant to the completely green, 23-year-old editor-in-chief of the Quarterly. It was a Jerry Maguire moment. I was thrilled and terrified at the same time.

They gave me a month to put together a staff and get the first issue out. Bruce Weber was named as its exclusive photographer — he’d already been shooting ads and campaigns for Abercrombie — and Sam was the creative director. As for me, I knew I’d need an editorial staff, and stat.

HOLY SHIT, THERE ARE NO LIMITS

Abadsidis quickly throws together a team composed of two college buddies, Patrick Carone and Gary Kon, who he describes as “pretty funny and stuff.” Carone became the only straight guy on the editorial side. Kon is Jewish and gay. The three of them vow to stay as true to the idealized college experience as possible with their content — even if it means chasing white whales.

Abadsidis: I can’t remember the exact starting budget, but it was upwards of a few million, probably much larger than most magazines get for their first issue! But our budget was also Bruce’s budget. He was getting advertising money, so we were well taken care of in that regard.

We weren’t really expected to turn a profit, though. That was never the point. Come to think of it, I don’t even think we tracked how much the magazine impacted clothing sales, although from what I can remember, clothing sales bumped up double digits every quarter after we launched (for a while, at least). [This statement is unverified.] But that didn’t matter: Our mission was just to set the brand image and make people aware of us. That was our version of success. We were also our only advertiser for a while, so we could get away with a lot of stuff that other publications couldn’t.

Gary Kon, managing editor, 1997-2003: When Savas offered me the job, I jumped at the opportunity. I’d already interned for Sam, and I’d have to scan hundreds of Bruce Weber images that he shot for Abercrombie as part of the job. And I fell in love with his work. It was the visual connection that seduced me. Weber’s photos were like a new Greek mythology; the men and women depicted in the photos were both idealized and sexualized. As a gay kid, who was pretty comfortable by that time in my own skin, I had no problem recognizing the eroticism in his work.

Abadsidis: Me, Gary and Patrick was definitely something special. I don’t think I’ll ever have an opportunity to create anything like that again. I was a huge comic book fan. If I had to describe it, it’s the closest thing I’ll ever come to Stan Lee’s Marvel comics bullpen. Pretty much everyone I hired was super unique. We weren’t all gay (maybe half of us were) but few of us really adhered to the Abercrombie image.

I think Sean came on in 2001.

Sean T. Collins, managing editor, 2001-2003: I was a little skittish about it at first because Abercrombie & Fitch represented everything I was not. They marketed, almost exclusively, to the lacrosse players that called me names I cannot repeat. It was very preppy, and that was not me at all.

I was alternative, maaan. I was a big fan of Nine Inch Nails. I wore a lot of black. A&F was everything I wasn’t, and in a way, everything that had tormented me as a kid. The irony of me working for them was palpable, but what I learned very quickly was that at the Quarterly, you could do anything that you wanted.

One of my first articles was an interview with Clive Barker, the writer and director of Hellraiser (he also wrote Candyman). Now, if you’ve seen Hellraiser, you can imagine just how far of a departure a sadomasochistic horror film was from Abercrombie & Fitch, but getting him to sign on was easy. He’s gay, and at the time, he was super ripped. I think he appreciated the extravagant gayness of the Weber stuff in particular. He was also a photographer, and his husband was, too. I think he recognized what was going on with the photography.

We had an unlimited expense budget, so I took him out for drinks at the Four Seasons. I talked to him for hours, and then he invited me to go back to his house and hang out and see his art studio. He had three mansions in a row on Sunset in Los Angeles, up in the hills. One for his office, one for his actual domicile and one that was a painting studio. I got to see that. I was just a 23-year-old kid. This was my first job out of college, and I felt like Cameron Crowe from Almost Famous. After that, I was like, “Holy shit, there are no limits.”

Kon: I have to credit Savas with pushing us to work without limitations. We were very lucky. At some point during my tenure, I realized that as long as we worked within our (sizable) budget, we had almost full autonomy. We could plan trips to Hollywood to shoot our favorite actors. We could travel to Thailand to reenact our version of The Beach. We could tag along to London or Rome or wherever Bruce was shooting the catalog. We could stroll into the office at 11 a.m. and work until 11 p.m.

Collins: If I wanted to talk to Bettie Page, the pinup model from the 1950s, they’d be like, “Okay, sure.” If I wanted to feature Underworld, my favorite electronic music band, it was, “Sure, go ahead.” It was total editorial freedom, which was so strange knowing how specific of a person the “Abercrombie type was.” I’ve been writing for two decades now, and I’ve never experienced anything like it since.

Abadsidis: Everyone wanted to be in it, too. At first, it was just indie musicians. But then, in the second issue, we snagged Lil’ Kim. That’s when I knew we’d made it big. She was into it — she loved everything about the Quarterly. A lot of people did. The whole high-brow/low-brow thing was really appealing, and the idea of going to college, reading good books, getting drunk and having sex felt uniquely nostalgic and fresh in the context of America back then. Clinton was getting impeached for getting a blow job. It was just a weird, puritanical time, and the Quarterly gave people a national platform to let their freak flag fly.

We had Rudy Guiliani, early Britney Spears, Paula Abdul. There was the New York issue where we talked about the Harlem Renaissance. Spike Lee — one of my idols — asked me if he could be in it. He’d done advertising, you know? I remember him being like, “Yo, this is the deal. I’ve got to give you mad props. This is the dopest thing out right now, advertising-wise.”

We had big-time philosophers and literary figures, too. They were great. We wanted to mimic the experience of being in college and having your mind expanded, so we got writers like Bret Easton Ellis and Michael Cunningham on board. There was a whole Sex Ed issue plastered with musings from Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek, a friend of a professor’s from college. I believe Jonathan Franzen was in there, too.

Jonathan Franzen, award-winning novelist and essayist: I gave hundreds of interviews between 1997 and 2003, almost all of them at the request of various publishers. One of them must have thought it was a good idea to talk to A&F. The fact that I apparently did (I don’t remember it) signifies nothing except that I felt grateful to my publishers.

Collins: We got a lot of weirdos, too. John Edward, the guy who talked to dead people. Chuck Palahniuk, who wrote Fight Club. At the time, it didn’t have the meathead reputation that it does now. It was legitimately looked at as this piece of anti-corporate, anti-capitalist art, the irony of which was just delightful given that we were a capitalist brand trying to sell polo shirts and $90 ripped jeans.

Abadsidis: The only guy who refused an interview was Donald Trump! I have a feeling his 90-year-old secretary had something to do with it. Though we were technically a magalog and did belong to the brand, our stuff was just really visionary. David Keeps, who was the editor of Details at the time, always defended the Quarterly as a real magazine and publicly said that we were doing more innovative stories than most “real” magazines at a time.

ASPIRATIONAL HOMOEROTICS

It’s no secret that the photography and creative direction of Weber and Shahid contained homoerotic undertones. Irreverent, minimal and moody, it was suggestive without being literal, spinning entire storylines into a single frame. At the same time, it was too idealized to be “real.” The queerness that their photos showed was, as Collins puts it, “aspirational,” meaning that like the mostly white, ab-riddled models instructed to sell cargo shorts by taking them off, they didn’t necessarily represent the full reality of what queerness actually was.

Still, the photos that the Quarterly published during its seven-year run did more to normalize and represent queerness and non-monogamy than any other mainstream brand at the time — weird, considering that Abercrombie’s target market was hegemonic suburbanites whose parents bred genetically pure golden retrievers and had cabins in Vail. Without these photos, the Quarterly might have read more as a minor-league Esquire or Ivy League MAD Magazine, but with them, it became one of the least-discussed, most under-appreciated items queer history.

Collins: Our editorial content — which almost functioned as a parody of so-called “Abercrombie people” — was always accompanied by this extremely beautiful photography that was also extremely queer. But it was never explicitly so. It was all this nudge, nudge, wink, wink stuff. I don’t know how you could miss it, though. The homoeroticism was so overt.

Abadsidis: You’d have had to have been blind not to consider the imagery homoerotic (though, it was really in the eye of the beholder). We had the Carlson twins posing on the cover and riding a motorcycle. We had a drag queen named Candis Cayne. There was a lesbian couple kissing at a wedding.

Kon: David Sedaris, Gus Van Sant, Gregg Araki, Avenue Q, Stan Lee, Peaches, Fischerspooner… you could teach a queer theory class with everyone we featured.

Abadsidis: At the same time, we never labeled anything as “gay” or “lesbian” or “queer.” We never came out and said, “Welcome to our gay magazine!” and we never had a meeting where we were like, “Okay, guys, let’s figure out how to make this thing gay.” It was more nonchalant. The imagery implied it without saying it.

Hampton Carney, A&F Quarterly spokesperson, 1999-2003: The message we were sending was clear: “You do you, whatever that is. Have fun!”

Abadsidis: That was a very 1990s thing.

Collins: There was a specific brand of Abercrombie gayness that got shown, though. The word that they always used to describe Abercrombie as a brand was “aspirational.” They didn’t want to make it like an everyday, normal-people brand. They wanted it to be associated with money, glamour and that WASP-y aesthetic. So all the gay raunch of it was presented within the context of what appeared to be a very square, nuclear family: white, wealthy and secure.

At the same time, that was really when same-sex marriage was kicking off as a political issue. I think you can see a commonality in how Abercrombie was essentially making an argument that you could be a normie and also be gay. That was a newish thing at the time (though I’m barely an expert as I’m not gay myself). Still, I can’t help but see a resonance between coming up with this clandestine content that normalized being gay at the same time this big political fight that was brewing.

Maybe being more forward about it would have come across as “too political.”

Abadsidis: Part of me wishes we’d gone a little further with being more outwardly queer, but I don’t think the time was right. Maybe with a braver CEO — no one at the time was brave enough to take on queerness or gay rights as a mainstream brand, including us — and that’s why few people remember the Quarterly as the sort of transcendent queer thing that it was.

Kon: It’s never been credited as such, but the Quarterly is really an item of gay history. I don’t think we were pushing a “gay” or “metrosexual” lifestyle on people as much as we were showing that it already existed, even out in Middle America. Perhaps that’s what made people uncomfortable. We took that thread of counterculture and taboo that ran through the imagery and continued it into the editorial content. We dealt with topics like drinking, drugs, religion, politics and sex. Again, these are issues young people dealt with daily, but were rarely editorialized.

At Vassar, there was a yearly party called The Homo Hop. It was one of the biggest parties of the year and leaned on Vassar’s history as a women’s college. I bring this up because, on the night of my freshman Homo Hop, I was instructed that each student had to do something sexually that they had never done, and one drug that they had never done. It wasn’t that you had to be gay, but you had to experience something that was new and different. I think that translated well into the Quarterly. Yes, there were a bunch of gay guys writing and shooting and drawing images. But we were simply trying to expose Cargo Short Brett to ideas, images, artists, books, writers and directors that he may have never heard of before. Our shared experiences would become his.

Collins: It was culture jamming, really.

Abadsidis: It was also very “college” to be fluid or experimental without labeling it. I think it’s safe to say that college is one of the gayest places there is in life, maybe not sexually, but definitely in terms of having your mind expanded about different types of people.

Carney: I was in a frat. I’d see fraternity brothers streaking across campus together. It was never a big deal. There are a lot more people in the middle of either extreme of sexuality than people talk about. We’re not one and 10 — we’re one through 10, if you will. That kind of stuff has always happened on college campuses, and that’s the kind of mentality we had around sex. We just happened to editorialize it really beautifully.

Collins: There’s a Barbara Kruger print that reminds me of the mood we were trying to capture: It reads: “You construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men.” That’s basically what Abercrombie & Fitch was. It was an intricate ritual that allowed sunkissed lacrosse players to metaphorically touch the skin of other men.

Carney: You know what’s funny, though? It was never the gay stuff people had a problem with. It was everything else.

LET THE CONTROVERSIES BEGIN

For almost every moment of its seven-year life, The Quarterly was a controversial publication. Parents, politicians and conservative-types didn’t appreciate its no-holds-barred approach to rampant fucking, and they could not, for the life of them, understand how such an adult magazine was making its way into the hands of their precious teens (who were probably jacking off to dad’s Playboys long before the Quarterly came along, but I digress). There was approximately one year — 1997 — where the amount of people it pissed off stayed below a critical mass, but after a certain somebody published a story that vaguely suggested underage kids drink, it was off to the races.

Abadsidis: We got in our fair share of trouble with Christian groups and concerned parents right off the bat. Let’s take one of the earlier issues — I believe it was Summer of 1998. It was my story. Basically, I suggested that people could do better than beer and that they should “indulge in some creative drinking.” There was one drink I made up called the “Brain Hemorrhage” and a few others you could play a drinking game with. We also included a spinner insert people could cut out.

None of it had anything to do with driving, of course, but the issue was called “On the Road.” It was a sort of beat-focused, Jack Kerouac thing, so some people interpreted that as us promoting drunk driving (though we did nothing of the sort). Also, the kid on the cover was underage. He was 16, if I remember correctly. Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) didn’t like that.

Karolyn Nunnallee, vice president of public policy for MADD: We had been really focused on underage drinking and had been instrumental in getting the country’s legal drinking age raised to 21. Then Abercrombie & Fitch comes out with this weird magazine that basically said, “Don’t go back to college drinking the usual beer. We’re going to show you a new way to drink.”

Not only did they have this drinking game, but they had recipes for these mixed drinks for young people to partake in. I was like, “Abercrombie & Fitch? Aren’t they in the clothing business?” What in the world were they doing? I mean, they were a high-end brand, not Walmart. Why would they take their focus off of clothing and put it toward alcohol? Were their clothes not good enough that year or something?

Needless to say, we weren’t happy with them. Curse words were handed out. We sent a letter to them and started a whole media campaign about it. We went on as many news media outlets as we possibly could with the story of how incensed we were.

Abadsidis: I was sure I was going to get fired over that. We had to remove the page with the spinner out of every single issue across the country. We apologized, of course, but it ended up backfiring against the protesters — that incident gave us so much publicity. It put us on the map. It also made us a target for conservative types. They hated us. After MADD, boycotts of Abercrombie started flaring up all over the place. That’s around the time we hired Hampton to do PR.

Carney: It was my job, at the time, to defend the brand. I’d go on talk shows like Entertainment Tonight or Today Show and explain away our latest controversy (there were a lot). It wasn’t hard, actually; each time, I’d give them what was more or less my go-to response: “It’s a beautiful publication intended for college-aged kids.” And that was the truth! It was way ahead of its time and was absolutely meant for people 18 and up.

Though not everyone saw it that way. The sex and nudity really got to people. A lot of them definitely thought we were making porn. That was the constant complaint: We were deliberately putting porn in the hands of young kids.

Lever: The Quarterly featured about the same level of nudity as a European yogurt commercial. Which is to say, a lot. It was a “clothing catalog” with almost no clothing. Of course [American] people thought it was pornographic!

Carney: Okay, sure — there were photos of like, six girls in bed with one guy and more than a few spreads that enthusiastically suggested naked non-monogamy — but it wasn’t porn. It was tasteful. And let me tell you — nothing we had in there was surprising to kids.

Abadsidis: The models ranged from 16 to 20. It was erotic. It was art. I don’t think there’s anything pornographic about the Quarterly unless you think that nudity, in and of itself, is pornographic.

Illinois Lieutenant Governor Corinne Wood did, apparently. In 1999, she called for a boycott of Abercrombie & Fitch because its “Naughty or Nice” holiday issue “contained nudity” and “even an interview with a porn star.” That porn star was none other than Jenna Jameson, who at the time was well on her way to becoming a household name. A so-called “child prodigy” occupied the neighboring page, sparking accusations that the Quarterly somehow intended to connect children to porn.

A cartoon of Mr. and Mrs. Claus experimenting with S&M across from the statement “Sometimes it’s good to be bad” didn’t help, nor did the “sexpert” who offered advice on “sex for three” and told readers that going down on each other in a movie theater was acceptable “just so long as you do not disturb those around you.”

The Illinois Coalition of Sexual Assault joined Wood’s boycott. Later that year, Michigan attorney general (and eventual governor) Jennifer Granholm sent a letter to Abercrombie complaining that the “Naughty or Nice” issue contained sexual material that couldn’t be distributed to minors under state law.

Carney: There were four states that tried to ban us after that. I remember Granholm. She was my arch-nemesis at the time — we really got into it. I respected where she was coming from, of course, but our whole thing was that we weren’t showing anything that wasn’t actually happening on college campuses. And I’d already made it pretty clear to the press that the magazine wasn’t for minors.

Also, it’s not like we were the only magazine talking about or showing sex. You could find all the exact same stuff in Cosmo or Playboy — it’s just that we were a clothing brand, and one whose major customer base just so happened to be teens and young adults. No one expected that from us. Brands weren’t “supposed” to be talking about sex period, let alone to teens and young adults. But we took it upon ourselves to pioneer a more open, honest view of it. That’s the wrinkle that made it so interesting.

We did come to an agreement with Granholm. We decided to wrap the magazine in plastic and make it available for purchase only to those over 18, that way, it’d be even more clear that we weren’t “selling porn to the underage.”

Kon: I believe it was one of the few times the company acquiesced.

Collins: Other than that, don’t remember getting any instruction from Savas, Mike or Sam to tone it down. It was kind of mutually assumed that we weren’t going to apologize for the sexual nature of our content. We knew we had to keep things sexy, as it were — that was our whole thing.

We weren’t deliberately trying to piss off people, but we were trying to push the envelope, and there was definitely an element of deliberate trolling of conservatives and Christian groups. It was a good thing if we pissed them off. It created the controversy that made the brand seem edgy and dangerous, which is what you want if you’re trying to appeal to young people.

Carney: We were also just showing real things that happened at college. And as anyone who’s been to college knows, it’s not just about reading and writing papers. It’s also about sex. Not only that, of course, but we’re sexual beings. We respond to images that are sexual. We were trying to take the stigma away from that and acknowledge that it’s not a bad thing to do.

But no matter how clear we made it, our stance on sex polarized people more and more. I could tell, because almost as soon as I started speaking on behalf of the magazine, strange things started to happen to me. I got stalkers. People left me messages saying I was going to hell and I’d have no afterlife. I got hate mail to my house. One person left a package containing their dirty, stained underwear at the front door of my apartment with a note saying they’d be “coming by later” to “talk to me about it.” I had to call the police on that one.

I was the face of the publication, so I got the vast majority of the harassment. But I didn’t mind. It was my job to take the fall, and I heard and respected every single person’s complaint and talked to them about it. Plus, for every message I got banishing me to hell, I got another from a journalist or a fan begging me to save a copy for them. People collected them. They really loved it, precisely because it was so sexual.

Abadsidis: Mike didn’t flinch about any of this stuff. He wanted to defend it because he could see it was working. We weren’t about to tone anything down (at the time).

Flash-forward to June 2001. The Twin Towers are still standing tall, tips are being frosted and Apple has just unleashed iTunes onto an unsuspecting populace. A&F Quarterly, now in its fourth year, is in hot water once again. Having survived a number of boycotts, lawsuits and controversies since its inception, it’s now in the midst of weathering another minor national conniption over its use of nudity.

Jeannine Stein, describing the Summer 2001 issue in an excerpt from a Los Angeles Times article called “Nudity? A&F Quarterly Has It Covered”: [It’s] explicit in ways that most catalogs and fashion magazines are not, and its use of male nudity is uncommon among general-interest publications. It features 280 pages of young, attractive men and women alone and together, in serious, romantic, sexual and party modes, wearing lots of A&F clothes, some A&F clothes and sometimes no clothes at all. Among the coffee-table book-ish photos by Bruce Weber is a man, covered only by a towel, surrounded by five women; a woman at the beach reclining body-to-body with three men; a back view of a naked man getting into a helicopter (we haven’t quite figured that one out yet); and a few topless females.

There are many naked butts and breasts.

Abadsidis: We also had photos of nude women in a fountain — which were inspired by Katharine Hepburn skinny-dipping at Bryn Mawr College — and a whole set dedicated to the Berkeley student that spent a day naked in class. It was par for the course for us, but even though we’d done the whole shrink-wrap and over-18 thing, people still felt it was too sexual for branded content.

In response, an unexpected alliance formed between cultural conservatives and anti-porn feminists to boycott Abercrombie & Fitch over the Summer 2001 issue of A&F Quarterly. According to Wikipedia, the offending issue included “photographs of naked or near-naked young people frolicking on the beach,” “top-naked young women and rear-naked young men on top of each other” and an “interview with porn star Ron Jeremy, who discussed performing oral sex on himself and using a dildo cast from his own penis.” Once again, Wood was at the helm.

David Crary, journalist, excerpt from a 2001 Associated Press article: Illinois Lt. Gov. Corinne Wood — a Republican who has been sparring with A&F since 1999 — announced the boycott campaign last week in Chicago. She has recruited a diverse mix of supporters more familiar with facing off against each other than with working together.

Wood, writing on her website in 2001: A&F is glamorizing indiscriminate sexual behavior that unsophisticated teenagers are not possibly equipped to weigh against the dangers of date rape, unplanned pregnancies and sexually transmitted disease.

Michelle Dewlen, president of the Chicago chapter of the National Organization for Women, speaking at one of Woods’ press conferences in 2001: It’s not a catalog. It’s a soft porn magazine.

Rev. Bob Vanden Bosch, head of Concerned Christian Americans, as quoted by the AP: It’s very important for people to get involved. The exploitation of sex and young people in A&F’s catalog isn’t only atrocious but also a psychological molestation of their teenage customers.

Quart: It was predatory in a few ways, really. One was that it confused the corporate identity of Abercrombie and the advertising with the editorial. It preyed on young consumers not understanding the difference between editorial content and sales content. Back then it led, I saw, to a way that girls were objectifying themselves and commodifying themselves. It ultimately led to boys also objectifying themselves and commodifying themselves — not to the same extent, but far more than they were when I started reporting Branded a little more than two decades ago.

I have the stats on the male body image dysmorphia at the time in Branded (which has only worsened). Then, male body shaming and “manorexia” was on the rise, for the first time on a mass scale. It couldn’t help for the most popular brand at the time to have a dedicated giant glossy magazine filled with pictures of male teenagers with zero body fat half undressed.

Abadsidis: I mean, sure, as much as any advertising does. It wasn’t like we were leading that charge. Any effect on self-image was certainly unintentional, but I do think it did make people want to be athletic. You definitely saw a lot of guys trying to look like that during that period, especially as time went on. If you look at the first few issues, the guys aren’t that built. Ashton Kutcher was actually in the second one — that was his first big break — and they get increasingly more cut from there. That whole era is when men’s body issues started to come out.

Lever: I’d also submit that all this was controversial because it was pre-internet. The internet mainstreamed sexual content in a way that makes A&F or other “scandalous” ad campaigns (like the 2003 Gucci ad with the model’s pubes shaved into the shape of a G) seem quaint, even obsolete. Like, do you remember that Eckhaus Latta ad a few years ago that scandalized people for five minutes because it showed people having real (albeit pixelated) sex? Neither does anyone else.

SLAVOJ ŽIŽEK TEACHES SEX ED

Always filled with philosophy, social theory and intellectually minded topics that likely soared over the heads of most Abercrombie consumers, the Quarterly outdid itself in the Fall of 2003 with its penultimate issue. A gorgeous romp of summer-spirited abandon accompanied by some delightfully incoherent, Dada-like musings from Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek, it connected a “back-to-school” theme with a pretty clear directive to fuck. Yet, the information it presented was actually rather safe and tame, a reality which confused and irritated Quarterly staff. Their content was legit, so why was everyone up in arms?

Abadsidis: The “Sex Ed” issue was the second to last one that we did. It got some of the most criticism, and was supposedly the reason everything was finished. I literally had stuff in there cited straight from the University of Michigan’s freshman student handbook on sexual conduct, and it still pissed people off! Then, of course, there was Žižek.

Lever: Žižek identifies as a radical leftist. He’s very famous for his work on cultural theory and critical theory. He analyzes all kinds of topics in his signature, impenetrable — but also approachable — style. And when I think of him, I think of his very distinctive manner of speaking, that some people have described as being on cocaine constantly. But he’s definitely kind of a cult figure, a favorite of people who consider themselves highbrow, but also fun.

He’s really touted as the greatest anti-capitalist of our time, and yet, here he was, “sexually educating” the mean girls and boys of your high school, in a brand catalog whose entire goal was to ensnare young people for the purpose of selling them distressed jeans.

According to the magazine’s foreword, the editor wrote to Žižek and said this: “Dear Slavoj, enclosed please find the images for our back to school issue. We’ve never had a philosopher write the text for our images before, so write what you like. We’re looking for that Karl Marx meets Groucho Marx thing you do so well. Thanks, Savas.”

Abadsidis: I love Slavoj. He was friends with one of my professors from school. He only had 24 hours to write this, so we actually sent someone to London where he was to drop off the images we wanted him to write text for. They hung out for a day and then flew back with what he’d written.

Lever: It was basically a series of insane, absurdist ramblings pasted over really hot naked people.

Žižek, excerpt from A&F Quarterly’s 2003 Sex Ed issue: Back to school thus means forget the stupid spontaneous pleasures of summer sports, of reading books, watching movies and listening to music. Pull yourself together and learn sex.

Lever: I mean, that’s like the first episode of every teen TV show, where these three nerdy boys start high school and they’re like, “Okay, we’re going to be cool this year guys. We’re going to lose our virginities.” It’s very formulaic. But there’s more.

Žižek: The only successful sexual relationship occurs when the fantasies of the two partners overlap. If the man fantasizes that making love is like riding a bike and the woman wants to be penetrated by a stud, then what truly goes on while they make love is that a horse is riding a bike… with a fantasy like that, who needs a personality?

Lever: The “go learn sex at school” part really struck a nerve with conservatives. But I don’t think it was that transgressive. Fourteen-year-olds are receiving messages to have sex all the time — what did it matter if some Eastern European anti-capitalist was hitting them over the head with it through the pages of a polo shirt advert?

Abadsidis: Fox News got involved, if I remember correctly. That was one of the few times I actually got pissed off about how an issue was being covered. I mean, the information in there was handed out to students by an actual university. Half the issue was quotes from this really influential philosopher. But for some reason, people really took offense to the language of it. That whole year [2003] was just a bad one for us.

THE LAST HORNY CHRISTMAS

For its final trick, the Quarterly released a holiday issue featuring 280 pages of “moose, ice hockey, chivalry, group sex and more.” It had oral sex, group sex, sex in a river, Christmas sex and pretty much every other type of sex you could think of, all which followed an earnest letter from Abadsidis which read: “We don’t want much this year, but in keeping with the spirit, we’d like to ask forgiveness from some of the people we’ve offended over the years. If you’d be so kind, please offer our apologies to the following: the Catholic League, former Lt. Governor Corrine Wood of Illinois, the Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund, the Stanford University Asian American Association, N.O.W.”

But the issue didn’t really hit. By fall 2003, Abercrombie was involved in a number of lawsuits and protests related to exclusion and discrimination, which left people cold despite the inviting warmth of a crackling, fireside circle jerk (a Weber offering which, I’m told, can be found on page 88 of the final issue).

Cole Kazdin, journalist, writing in a 2003 Slate article called “Have Yourself a Horny Little Christmas”: The challenge for me, when masturbating with my friends to the nubile nudies in the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog, is trying not to think about serious things like racial diversity; it tends to kill the mood. But because most of the models in the catalog are white and because a lawsuit has been filed against the clothing retailer for allegedly discriminating against a Black woman who applied for a job at the store, it’s hard for the issue not to rear its nonsexy head. [In 2004, Abercrombie also agreed to pay $40 million to settle a lawsuit that accused the company of promoting whites over Latino, Black, Asian-American and female applicants.]

Collins: As a brand, Abercrombie did a lot of things that were quite gross. I’m sure you remember when they came out with these T-shirts with these racist stereotype characters on them. You would just see it in the catalog and just be like, “Jesus Christ.” It was awful and stupid and self-defeating, just tone deaf. And we just couldn’t figure out how no one at the company saw the problem with it.

Stagg, excerpt from Sleeveless: Kids in my high school wore shirts that read, “Wok-n-Bowl” and “Wong Brothers Laundry Service: Two Wongs Can Make It White,” accompanied by cross-eyed propaganda-style cartoons. If you weren’t part of the in-crowd (and white), A&F was oppressive. Non-jocks made their own anti-A&F T-shirts, using the brand as a catchall for exclusionary, competitive behavior and old-fashioned bullying.

Carney: That stuff was indefensible, really. Those were the darkest days of my job — listening to calls and reading letters about how offensive those shirts were. Even though the Quarterly was quite separate from the brand and we had no influence over what they did or what clothes they designed, we did still have to print their stuff at the back of the magazine. It was pretty uncomfortable.

Stagg: By 2006, Mike Jeffries’ most controversial public statement on sex appeal was really just saying what we were all thinking: “Are we exclusionary? Absolutely.” Those remarks were followed by lawsuit after lawsuit, mostly involving staffing discrimination. An announcement about the store refusing to carry anything over a size 10 reportedly marked a noticeable decrease in sales.

Abadsidis: There were a lot of underlying problems at the company. The amount of negative press Abercrombie was getting was getting silly. No matter what we did, we’d end up in the news, especially if it was related to the Quarterly. After so many bad news incidents, it just felt done, like its moment had passed. It was bound to crash at some point.

Gina Piccalo, excerpt from the Los Angeles Times: Clothing retailer Abercrombie & Fitch has pulled its controversial in-store catalogs after outraged parents, conservative Christian groups and child advocates threatened a boycott over material they said was pornographic. However, a company spokesman said the move had nothing to do with the public outcry. The catalogs were pulled to make room near cash registers for a new Abercrombie & Fitch fragrance.

Abadsidis: People like to think that the boycotts and Christian protests had something to do with it, but that wasn’t the case at all. By 2003, Abercrombie’s stock was low — something to do with ordering too much denim. The store was having negative sales for the first time. There was the line in the New York Times, who covered our demise, that Mike was “bored” with it.

Collins: We had no warning. We were all there one day, and the next, we were gone.

Lever: The Quarterly was a relic of a different time. I feel like it could never have been made after 2008 for so many reasons — economic, and cultural and political. It would just never fly. It was made before feminism pervaded everything, at a time where you could be completely flagrant about gross patriarchal shit and still get away with it.

It was kind of like this last gasp of a certain conception of what’s desirable — a very hegemonic coolness exemplified by white Ivy League frat kids who got fucked up the night before their philosophy class. That doesn’t have much currency anymore. Abercrombie kept that image on life support until its last gasp.

Now, 20 years later, what’s cool is not that. What’s cool is to have depression and ADD. The ideal is out. The real is in. And the Quarterly, having always existed in the liminal space between, is neither here nor there.

EPILOGUE

In 2008, Abercrombie resurrected the Quarterly in the U.K. for a limited-run special edition to celebrate the success of its European stores. The original team was reunited — Abadsidis, Shahid and Weber — with the hopes that Britain’s more “open-minded approach to culture and creativity” would provide a welcoming substrate on which to re-grow their original ideas of sexual liberation. The issue, “Return to Paradise,” was “more mature” than its American cousin. It was well-received — aside from the usual protests about sex and nudity — but it wasn’t continued.

Two years later, in 2010, the Quarterly was revived again, this time as a promotional element for Abercrombie’s Back-to-School 2010 marketing campaign, which bore the unfortunate title of “Screen Test.” The lead story Abercrombie put out on its website sounded like a cross between American Idol and a gay porn shot: “The staff of A&F Studios opens up to editorial to explain the steps the division takes to find new, young, hot boys. The cattle-call approach to herd young talent ends with the best of the beefcake earning a screen test that ‘could be the flint to spark the trip to the star.’”

Bruce Weber would be shooting, of course. This would become especially ominous after he was accused of a series of casting-couch style sexual assaults by 15 male models beginning in 2017. According to the accusations, he subjected them to sexually manipulative “breathing exercises” and inappropriate touching, insinuating that he could help their careers if they complied.

Arick Fudali, a lawyer at the Bloom Firm, which represents five of Weber’s alleged victims, declined to confirm or deny whether any of the alleged assaults happened on a Quarterly shoot. If they did, they’re not prosecutable as sexual assaults in New York. Because the states’s statute of limitations on reporting rape is only three years, anything that happened during the Quarterly’s run wouldn’t count toward a sexual assault charge (unless a minor was involved, which Fudali also declined to confirm).

No one I spoke with for this story remembers seeing, hearing or experiencing anything like what the allegations against Weber describe, but some expressed concern over how they might affect the legacy the Quarterly leaves behind. “The accusations are pretty grim,” Collins told me. “You feel for the people who are put in that position. People had power over them. It just makes you think, ‘Was any of this worth it?’ Not really, if people were getting hurt.”

As such, it’s difficult to conclude with definitive sign-off about the Quarterly’s legacy. Either it was a bastion of progressive and transversive sexuality that simultaneously trolled and nourished the very audience it sought to mine, or it was the product of darkness and pain. Either way, Sockel sums it up just right: “The Quarterly was discontinued in 2003, after the American Decency Association boycotted photos of doe-eyed bare-assed jocks in prairies and glens,” he wrote in his recollection. “It was nice while it lasted.”