#otherwise why would i keep letting my middle school bully in to interact with me and hoping we could mend things and become friends? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adorerdraco · 4 years

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Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that

AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !

italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell

Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life

Words: 4.5K

A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee

Draco Malfoy was insufferable.

The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends’ before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.

You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard.

On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)

“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”

“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”

You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you.

When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.

“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”

He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”

“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.

“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.

“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”

“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.

You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.

You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you.

“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”

“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”

“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.

“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”

You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”

“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”

“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”

You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.

“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.

The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture.

You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.

“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.

“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”

“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.

“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”

“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”

Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.

“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table.

You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.

When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...

“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”

“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”

“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”

This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.

“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.

“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”

You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”

There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”

“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”

For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all.

And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.

You hated him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.

After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time.

“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”

She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.

“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”

“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”

You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.

“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully.

“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”

“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”

You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.

“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”

“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”

He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”

Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes.

“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.

“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs.

You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.

“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”

He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”

“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”

“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”

You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”

“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”

You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.

His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.

Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.

It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.

And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.

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pan-fangirl-345 · 3 years

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Promise Me You Won't Fall In Love

Summary: You and Tsukishima have been friends since you were kids, and you made a promise not to fall in love with each other. But of course, everything's fine and great until someone (both of you) fucked up and caught feelings.

TW: swearing, mutual pining, unrequited love (it is requited later), minor harassment (not a lot), and there is some derogatory talk from an extra that doesn't even have a name (Kei puts him in his place, I promise).

A/N: So this wasn't requested, but I've been thinking about this one a lot recently and I wanted to do something with it, hence this.

Note: Anything in italics is a memory! Well, not all of it, but the longer sections. Most of the time the one or two word-er things are simply emphasized, that kind of thing.

"Tsukishima, your girlfriend's here to see you!" Sugawara told the middle blocker, and he turned to see you leaning against the wall near Yachi and Kiyoko, laughing at something they were saying to you.

"She's not my girlfriend," Kei muttered, walking over.

"Kei! I knew you'd be here," you said, digging through your bag. "One of the girls in my class wanted me to give this to you."

You handed him a bright pink envelope with black sparkly writing on the front, his name scrawled in almost perfect handwriting.

"Another love letter?" he asked, taking it.

"Probably, I've stopped asking. It makes them think that we're together," you told him, crossing your arms.

Kei sighed, opening the letter with little fanfare.

He scanned through it quickly, rolling his eyes.

One thing he had noticed was that the letters he had been getting were really sucky poetry and fancy words. They knew nothing about him worthwhile and he was pretty sure they just wanted to check off the 'I have a boyfriend' box on their high school checklists.

Kei made a noise of disgust and walked over to the nearest trash can, dumping the letter in.

"I'm assuming that's another no?" you asked, smirking at him, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, ignoring the smirk on your face.

You, Tadashi, and Kei had all been friends since middle school. Kei had known you longer, since you lived in the same neighborhood, but you had kind of adopted Tadashi when you had heard about him being bullied, hence why Kei and you were actual friends now. Tadashi was the link between the two of you that had stuck. Being forced to make conversation as some of the only kids in the neighborhood had simply made you acquaintances.

"If you knew I was going to say no then why would you give me the letter?" Kei asked.

"Because I'm hoping you'll broaden your horizons," you offered, waving your hand dismissively. "Besides, it sends the wrong message if I just throw them away without giving them to you. Not to mention, a lot of the girls don't like me to begin with because I'm one of the few people you can tolerate for more than a few minutes at the time. You've never had a girlfriend, Kei, even if they aren't girlfriend material, couldn't you at least make a few more friends?"

"I can barely deal with you and Tadashi, I don't need anymore friends," Kei told you, and you laughed.

"Keep telling yourself that Kei. I'll see you guys later, alright?"

Tadashi and Kei nodded, watching you leave before they rejoined practice.

"Are you sure she isn't your girlfriend, Tsukishima?" Sugawara asked, watching the blocker with mild interest.

Despite being second years now, their former upperclassmen were showing up more as tournament season drew closer. Though Kei also suspected that they were being nostalgic and that they missed their underclassmen's chaos.

"I'm sure," he assured the former setter. "Why?"

"Nothing, just a hunch," he murmured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Guys, do you ever wonder how many people see you on the side of the street and think, 'Wow, they are the most beautiful person I have ever seen'?" you asked, as you hung upside down on the monkey bars.

"I think the blood is going to your head, (Y/F/N)," Tadashi teased.

"No, I'm serious," you said, turning to look at him. "I was thinking, earlier, about how Kei keeps getting all these love letters, and it made me wonder how many people see me as attractive, but never say anything. I don't think it's very many," you admitted, "but I wonder if they are out there."

Tadashi sighed, putting his hands on his forehead in an exasperated manner.

"(Y/F/N)," he said, sounding almost breathless, "just because Kei is getting letters doesn't mean that people don't find you attractive."

"I'm not saying people don't find me attractive," you said, swinging yourself up onto the bars again. "I know someone in the world must have standards that low, but just because they find me attractive doesn't mean they would date me."

"Why are we talking about this?" Kei asked, annoyance riddling his tone.

"Technically Tadashi and I were talking about it," you told him. "You were simply listening to the conversation."

"That doesn't tell me why this is the topic of conversation," he countered.

"I'm just saying! Kei keeps getting all these letters, and it makes me wonder if these girls actually think that they're in love with him. Attraction is really just a release of chemicals in the brain from when we were simply a species trying to survive. But that's not love," you said.

"So what's love to you?" Tadashi asked, curious.

"I think real, true love is when you see something that reminds you of them and you smile, even without realizing it. I think it's when it hurts to see them hurt, but you stay by them instead of seeking revenge, knowing they need you in the moment. I think it's the little inside jokes that mean nothing to people around you, but it's everything to you. I think it's knowing that there are plenty of people that are better than you out there, but wanting to stick around to be better for that person, to prove that you're worth it.

"I think it's seeing all the broken pieces, and loving them all anyway. It's remembering the little things. It's being able to sit in complete silence and know what the other is saying just because of the way their eyes crinkle. It's knowing that they have the power to break off new pieces, and trusting that they won't. It's when . . . instead of breaking pieces of yourself so that they can handle you, you stay whole. If they choke, you know it's not love, not really.

"It's knowing that you can stand on your own two feet, but leaning on them anyway. It's knowing that you are your own person, but wanting to share it with someone anyway. It's feeling free and wild, but content to stay still, because you trust them. For me, I feel like love is knowing that someone would read with me on a window seat, watching it rain, but they would also drive just a little too fast down older roads with the windows down so we can pretend, just for a moment, that we're in a shitty music video."

You smiled as you turned yourself upside down on the monkey bars again.

"I think it's kind of like what we have, but more romantic."

"You've been reading too much fanfiction," Kei muttered.

"Maybe," you admitted. "But maybe that's because I want to be able to spew romantic bullshit like that when I finally find a guy that likes me for me. I realize that, realistically, I'll probably never feel like that. Or at least, I won't feel it enough to put it into words like that. Fantasy never lives up to reality after all. But it's a nice thought."

"So, you don't think you'll ever find something like that?" Tadashi asked.

"I think that I'll either end up married to a man that was good enough, or on my own with no social life except you and Kei. I'll rely on work to keep me entertained."

Kei snorted.

"What's so funny you overly salted French fry?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If I ever think you're marrying a man that's just 'good enough', I'll say 'I object!' at the wedding," he told you.

"Oh yeah?" you asked, smiling. "And why's that?"

"Because you deserve more than that," he said, looking you in the eye. "(Y/F/N), you are not the kind of girl that should end up with 'good enough'. You're too . . . free for that. Although, maybe independent is a better word. You would wither with just 'good enough', and that's not something I'm willing to let happen."

"Aw, so you do care about me," you cooed, swinging yourself upright onto the bars. "And don't worry Kei, we both know that Tadashi and I will never let you settle with 'good enough' either."

"What about me?" Tadashi squawked, and you laughed.

"Come 'Dashi," you chided, "we all know that you won't end up with 'good enough' even if you try."

His cheeks went pink and you laughed again.

Kei, as much as he pretended otherwise, really loved seeing you and Tadashi laugh like this. It reminded him that there were people who didn't see just the bastard act that he threw up to protect himself.

He loved the way your dimple appeared when you gave Tadashi that real smile, not the smirk or the grin you gave people. He loved seeing Tadashi carefree and not hiding behind his hand when he laughed or smiled.

He loved being able to sit and watch the two of you interact, but know that he could pop into the conversation whenever.

"Kei, that look on your face is kind of creepy," you teased, sliding to the ground to ruffle his hair, a small way of telling him you didn't mean it. "What's it for?"

"Nothing," he muttered, hoping to the heavens that his ears weren't turning pink, though they probably were.

"Come on Tsukki," Tadashi said, giving him a look, "we've all been friends for years. We know you better than that."

"I'm just glad is all," he murmured.

"Glad for what?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, leaning over them to look at his face.

"You. Tadashi. You know, my friends," he confessed.

Damn it! His ears were definitely pink.

But he didn't shove you off.

Most people assumed that Kei was a jerk all the time, and while that might have been true for anyone else, you and Tadashi were the exceptions to his rule.

You and Tadashi had been friends with him for almost your whole lives, and both of you had been there during the brother debacle.

You and Kei had lived in the same neighborhood for years, and had been a part of more than a few conversations that had been forced by social convention, and your mother had been good friends with his in high school, though they had lost touch after that.

You had noticed Tadashi being bullied in class and had stepped in, defending him and deciding that he was more worth your time than the other kids.

Which led you to Kei, when you found out that he had helped Tadashi on the playground, even if that had never been his original intention.

The three of you had become a trio of sorts in your later years, though your reputations weren't the most . . . innocent.

Kei had always had a sharp tongue and a quicker wit, and his irritation seemed to have no limits.

You were on level with him, though you were much harder to set off than he was.

Tadashi never really provoked, but he watched as the two of you eviscerated anyone that insulted him.

Kei was ruthless with people who made comments on you and/or Tadashi, never giving them a chance to get another word in, though they had often tried, simply making themselves seem more like idiots.

On the other hand, you tended to let people hang themselves with their own tongues, before using that quick wit and sharp tongue to gut them like the pigs that they were.

Tadashi had little confidence on his own, and he tended to be more affected by words than you or Kei, so most of the time he let you and Kei handle people, but every once in a while, he would be set off.

Nothing was scarier than Tadashi getting pissed. He was rarely ever confrontational, but when something set him off, it was terrifying. He got really quiet, and he never raised his voice. There was a quiet kind of fury that radiated from him when he got like that, and if you and Kei used your words to eviscerate, Tadashi used his to give someone hypothermia. He would make them get colder and colder before their brains tricked them into thinking they were too hot, and then ended them.

All three of you were terrifying in your own ways, but that didn't mean you were like that all the time.

Kei wasn't an asshole all the time, and he enjoyed receiving hugs and other types of physical affection, he was just shit at reciprocating it and letting others see that more 'vulnerable side of him', as he put it. He was better at fixing problems logically. He helped you and Tadashi study, or sometimes bought gifts to make you both feel better, little things that still made your days.

Tadashi was someone who might not be confrontational, but he was very good about getting you and Kei out of your heads when something did hit a chink in your respective armors. He knew that both you and Kei were more affected by what people said than most people were led to believe. He was also a very good listener.

You were the giver of physical affection when the boys needed it. Kei tended to need it more than Tadashi, since Tadashi had his moms who were more than willing to give hugs. Kei didn't like his mother thinking anything was wrong, and he didn't completely trust his brother anymore, so physical contact was kept to a minimum.

Tadashi was okay with giving Kei affection, but most of the time, when it came to Kei, you were the one he went to.

You had asked him once, why he always came to you.

"I sometimes think Tadashi puts me up on a pedestal," he had admitted. "He knows me, and he's my friend, but sometimes it feels like I can't disappoint him. I don't feel that way with you. Besides, your short enough that hugging you feels better. Plus, Tadashi is all bones."

"We're glad for you too Kei," you told him, leaning your chin on his shoulder.

Tadashi nodded, taking a seat beside Kei.

Kei's heart clenched, like it often did when he was reminded that he really did have great friends, and his ears got hotter.

"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," he muttered, trying to wave you and Tadashi away.

"Come on Kei," you whined softly, gently bumping your head with his, "we all know that you have a heart! Don't be that way, it's just us."

Kei made a small noise, and you laughed, releasing him so that you could sit on his other side, peering up into his face with your adorable fucking doe eyes.

"You know you don't have to pretend with us," you murmured, leaning on his shoulder, taking his hand.

"Yeah, we've all been friends for long enough Tsukki," Tadashi agreed, leaning his head on Kei's other shoulder.

"I hate you both," he muttered, trying to hide his face in his hands.

"Nuh uh," you said, pulling away to pull his hands from his face, sounding like a child. "No hiding from us."

You took his hand again, and for a while, all three of you just sat there, enjoying each other's company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tsukishima! You're girlfriend is here again," Suga said, gesturing to where you were walking through the doors of the gym, laughing with Yachi.

"Again, she's not my girlfriend," Kei muttered.

He remembered, suddenly, about the promise you had both made when you were middle school and boys were starting to notice girls and vice versa.

"Kei and (Y/F/N) would make such a cute couple when they're older," your mother had told his, smiling as you both chatted at a neighborhood barbeque, being two of the only children there that could hold an intelligent conversation.

At that point, you and Kei were more than acquaintances, but you weren't exactly friends yet either.

Neither mother had realized that you and Kei had overheard, and when Kei had glanced at you, your nose was wrinkled like it did when you were grossed out by something, your expression mirroring his.

"Promise me something Kei," you had said, turning your attention back to him. "Promise me that you won't ever fall in love with me."

"Why not? I mean, I won't, but I want a reason," he had said, arms crossed as he looked at you.

"Because we're friends," you had said, like it had been the simplest thing in the world. "And because if we ended up falling in love and dating that means Tadashi would feel left out all the time and I won't let that happen. So promise me."

"I promise not to fall in love with you if you promise not to fall in love with me," he had offered.

"Deal," you had told him, offering him your hand to shake on it.

"Ah, Kei, there you are!" you said, smiling at him. "There's another letter. Based on the amount of hearts on it, another confession."

"Keep it," he muttered, pushing your hand away when you went to hand him the letter.

"Kei, I don't want to carry around another one of your love letters," you said, wrinkling your nose. "These aren't for me, and they make me sick, so please, for the sake of our friendship, take the damn thing off my hands so I can wash them."

He sighed, a pained sound that had you laughing, and took the letter, slipping it into his bag, wondering if the girls at school would ever take a hint that he wasn't interested.

"Why is Tsukishima so popular with the girls?" Hinata wondered out loud. "His personality is so crappy."

"And I don't think I've ever heard him say a nice thing to anyone," Kageyama added.

"That's because you guys are irritating to Kei," you interrupted, turning to them, arms crossed and hip cocked out to the side. "Most of the time, he's helpful and respectful. You two just aren't the kind of people he would voluntarily hang out with."

"Rude," Hinata cried, then pouted, "but true."

"The only people Kei really rips into are people he doesn't like, doesn't respect, people who disrespect Tadashi or me, or people who betray his trust. You two are options one and two."

"He just seems like an unfeeling asshole, even after three years of knowing him."

"I think it's the opposite actually," you told them.

Kei could feel your eyes on the back of his head, either unaware that he could hear you or uncaring that he was listening.

"I think he feels all of it, at one hundred and twenty percent. He just acts like that to avoid getting hurt in most cases. In your case though, he really does just not like you. Or, more accurately, he doesn't like that you two are so clearly passionate about something when he gets scared of something hurting him if he cares too much. Like Tadashi told you once, Hinata, if Kei didn't at least like volleyball, he wouldn't be here. Just think about it," you told them.

"(Y/F/N)!" Tadashi called. "We're still studying at your place right?"

"Yeah, just like always," you assured him. "Kei, you still have the spare key, just let yourselves in."

He nodded, spinning the ball in his hands as he watched you walk away.

"Tsukishima, are you one hundred percent sure that she isn't your girlfriend?" Suga asked, eyebrows raised at him.

"Three hundred percent sure," Tsukishima grunted as he served the ball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why do you never accept any of the confessions, Kei?" you asked, looking at him from over the top of your textbook.

Your head was hanging off the side of your bed and your socked feet were crossed at the ankles, resting on your wall.

Kei's neck hurt just looking at you, but he didn't say anything to you about moving.

"Because they aren't my type," Kei muttered, checking his notes before writing down an answer on his paper.

"What is your type?" you inquired, rolling onto your stomach, setting you book to the side. "Because I don't think I've ever seen you take an interest in a girl." You frowned, then added, "Romantic interest I mean."

Kei wondered what other interest you had thought he might get out of that, but he decided not to question it. Despite knowing you for years, and being as close to you as he was, you still managed to be somewhat of a mystery to him.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"Yes, because I want to be able to set you up when you decide you're ready for a relationship!" you said. "Tadashi and I would make great wingmen. Well, wingman and wingwoman, but you know what I mean."

Kei actually turned to look at you at that one.

"You're serious," he muttered, noting the look on your face.

"Yes! Unless you don't think you're going to want a romantic relationship, which is completely okay too. I just want you to be happy is all."

"You know what makes me happy?" Kei asked, pausing to let you answer, but instead you stayed quiet, watching him with those damn doe eyes. "Getting my homework done and not having to deal with confessions from girls that don't know the first thing about me."

Kei heard your small chuckle, and as he went back to his homework, he found himself smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kei had always known that, objectively, you were very pretty (he had heard enough from his classmates over the years to have it verified), but sometimes you did something, and he would realize all over again.

Today you had laughed a little harder as he ripped into someone, and you had given him one of those dimpled smiles that he adored so much, and he had stood there blinking for a moment before he cooled his expression again.

Kei didn't really understand why he got so mad when someone flirted with you in the hallways, or when you came to cheer the team on during games.

He had always assumed that it was merely because you were such good friends, but then he had realized that no one else got that mad, they didn't feel the same painful burning in the pit of their stomachs at seeing you with another guy.

Asking Suga had done absolutely nothing, the setter had merely suggested that Kei was jealous, which was absolute bullshit, and he wasn't desperate enough to contact Bokuto or Kuroo yet, though he might be at the point of asking Akaashi.

He would know if he liked you the way that the older setter was implying. He would know if he was in love with you.

Right?

Kei could worry about that later, right now he was more interested in getting that guy's hand off your shoulder and away from your neck.

"(Y/F/N)," Kei called, striding over, back straight. "The game's about to start, we've got to go."

"Kei!" you chirped, smiling at him, moving to his side immediately, giving the guy that had been bugging you a sugar sweet (and utterly fake) smile over your shoulder. "See you around never, hopefully!"

Kei pressed his lips together to hide his smile, letting you wrap your hand around his.

"Was that guy bothering you?"

"A little, but you got there just in time," you told him, your hand tightening it's grip for a moment before you let him go. "Thanks for always having the most amazing timing Kei!"

"Yeah, whatever," he told you, bumping your shoulder with his.

"Seriously, what is it with the girls that hang around with us and wandering off?" Daichi asked when you walked into the gym with Kei.

"Sorry guys! I just wanted to buy a key chain," you said, holding it up, grinning. "It's not my fault that athletes can't take no for an answer! Sometimes I think your on-court determination bleeds over into everyday life."

There were some nods, and Kei watched as the guy that had been bothering you stepped onto the other side of the court.

He followed the guy's eyes to you, where you were laughing at something Kageyama said.

Did- Did that moron just lick his lips at you?

Kei felt that burning sensation in his stomach again.

Kei didn't realize that he had been glaring until he heard your voice right next to him.

"Anyway, good luck guys!" you told them, affectionately ruffling Tadashi's hair, hip-checking Kei on your way into the stands, flashing him that damned dimpled grin over your shoulder.

"Hey, Blondie!" the guy called. "You, Glasses! I'm talkin' to you!"

Kei turned to see the guy from earlier smirking at him.

"Dude, your girl is so hot!" he said.

Kei felt the entirety of Karasuno tense behind him as they realized what was going on.

"Yeah, she is," Kei agreed.

"Think you'd be willin' to share her with me? I promise I'd take good care of her."

"Oh shit," someone muttered, and Kei saw red for a moment before he got himself under control.

"Is your ass jealous about the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth?" Kei asked, putting his hand on his hip.

Using insults like that was never really his thing, but he was really pissed right now.

"Hey, Tsukki," Tadashi said quietly, "you might not want to-"

"What did you just say to me?" the guy asked.

"Hey, Kei!" you called from the stands, waving at him to catch his attention. "Leave the smack talk for when you actually win! Block his spike down his throat for me, alright?"

He nodded, giving you a grin that had you giving him one right back.

"God forbid if she was a guy and they were on the same team," Suga muttered, and the others nodded.

"Alright, time for the game to start," Daichi said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kei did as you asked: he blocked every single spike that the guy tried to send over the net, and Kei could already tell that the guy was pissed at the end of the first set.

He was spiking more and more aggressively, which was screwing up aim to the point where Kei didn't even really need to block.

"Go Karasuno!" you cheered, smiling at the team from the stands.

Kei, every time he felt his anger getting out of control, looked to you in the stands to calm down.

Finally, the scumbag was so out of control that he was switched out with another wing spiker.

From there, the game was easy.

By the end of it, Kei hadn't even needed to look for you in the stands. Not only had he memorized where you were, but no one else on that team pissed him off as much as that scumbag did.

As soon as the ball landed on the other side of the court, and it was called, you were running down from the stands, running for him.

"Kei! You were so great!" you cheered, wrapping your arms around his neck, jumping at him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist to keep the both of you from falling over, and he buried his face in your neck as he set you down.

"Oh my gosh, Kei that was so amazing! I think that's the best you've played all season! Seriously! Some of those blocked looked like they would've ripped my arms off, that was so cool!" you gushed, holding onto his forearms.

Kei nodded, giving Tadashi a look over your shoulder for a moment, letting him know that it was okay for him to go on ahead.

"Thanks for blocking the slime ball for me Kei!" you said, smiling up at him. "And what did he say to you that got you so pissed off? I haven't seen you that mad in forever!"

"It was nothing," he told you, "it was stupid."

"Are you sure?" you inquired, looking up at him.

"Yeah, I'm sure the team will tell you about it later."

"Alright, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," you told him, "'cause you looked really pissed. I haven't seen you that pissed off since that one guy tried to make Tadashi cry."

"I don't like it when people make you uncomfortable like that," Kei said. "It really pisses me off."

"Is that why you kept looking at me during the game?" you asked, and Kei wondered if any other girl would've been so honest with him about something like this, or if it as just the fact that you had both spent so much time together growing up. "I noticed that you always looked at me whenever you had the chance."

Kei nodded, gesturing with his head towards the doors, so that he could catch up with the team and talk with you at the same time.

"Yeah, that was one of the reasons. It kept me focused on the scumbag's spikes, and it calmed me down enough so that I didn't punch him whenever we were across the net from each other."

"I kinda wish that you had, but I also know that it would've gotten you ejected from the game, which is not something I want to happen. Anyway, thanks Kei," you told him, smiling up at him.

"Yeah, always," he said, putting his hand on your head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was when you were over at his house Sunday morning when he realized that he might need to call Kuroo and Bokuto.

You, Kei, and Tadashi had had a sleepover, but Tadashi had left early to spend some time with his moms, so Kei had woken up to you with a hand on his chest and his arm numb from where it was pillowing your head.

The three of you had been sitting on Kei's bed watching a movie, but Tadashi had tipped over sometime near the halfway marker, and Kei had fallen asleep not long after that, so he could only assume that you had fallen asleep sometime after Tadashi had left this morning.

Kei turned on his side slowly, not wanting to wake you up, wrapping an arm around your waist softly.

He toyed with your hair, twisting it in his fingers gently, brushing it behind your ear, threading his fingers through it.

He wasn't ready to get up for the day yet, so he laid there with you, wondering how it would be ten years in the future.

Would your hair be longer? Would you cut it shorter? Would you dye it? Would you have kids by then?

That last one had made him pause.

He had always known that short of you dying or some huge falling out, Kei was in no way going to be able to get rid of you or Tadashi, but he had never even considered dating you, let alone anything beyond that.

So why was he wondering what your kids would look like? Why was he wondering how many you would want, if any? Why was he questioning how many stray animals you might bring home after work?

He sounded like every lovesick fool that got his heart broken in those weird movies that Tadashi liked to watch.

Kei glanced down at your face, and he suddenly found himself unable to think of a reality where he didn't wake up like this for the rest of his life.

When had he stopped seeing you as his little sister, or the annoying female friend that all of his classmates admired? When had he started seeing you as someone he could fall in love with, if he hadn't already?

But even with this new revelation, he couldn't bring himself to pull away from you.

Kei loved it when you both bickered like you hated each other, and he loved when you were able to throw back any insulting thing he said to you. He loved being able to have real conversations with you, but he also liked just sitting quietly with you.

This though, this was by far his favorite thing, seeing all the stress gone from your body, seeing your face without any kind of mask on, he adore seeing the calm serenity that came with sleep.

"Mm, Kei?" you asked sleepily, glancing at him. "What time is it?"

"Still early," he murmured, tucking you into his chest again. "Go back to sleep."

"M'kay," you said, nuzzling in close.

Kei waited for a minute before he grabbed his phone and his glasses from the side table, texting Kuroo.

Normally, he would've talked to Tadashi, but Kei didn't want to drag him into anything until he knew for sure, just in case he was wrong.

Kei: I have a question for you

Kuroo: What's up Tsukki-poo?

Kei: First, don't call me that

Kei: Secondly, and this is completely hypothetical, but how do you know when you love someone?

Kuroo: Aww, is my little kouhai in love with someone? How cute!

Kei made a face, taking a deep breath and glancing at you quickly before he turned his attention back to his phone.

Kei: Just answer the question

Kuroo: We're talking hypothetically?

Kei: Yeah

Kuroo: Can't you use the internet for this stuff? Why ask me? Why not ask Freckles? Or the pretty setter on your team?

Kei: The internet would tell me I have cancer, not that I might be in love with someone

Kei: Secondly, as for the setter comment, I'm assuming you mean Suga

Kei: Thirdly, he would go tell Tadashi, and then the possible love interest, and I don't want to deal with any of those things

Kei: So, please, for the sake of my sanity, just answer the question

Kuroo: Alright, alright. Jeesh. Hypothetically, if you were in love with someone you might start noticing their presence more

Kuroo: It would feel almost like you have a compass where the needle points to them, and you can't turn it off. You notice the little things more than normal, and you know them. I mean, really know them. They feel almost like a part of you

Kuroo: Seeing them hurt hurts you. You constantly feel the need to make sure that they're okay. Even the little things that kind of annoy you are a huge part of what you love about them

Kuroo: You find yourself smiling at them, even when they're doing something completely mundane, and you could recognize their voice in a crowd. Suddenly, they went from just another person, to someone that you could find in a crowd, even if they blend in enough that they normally fade into the background

Kuroo: Hypothetically speaking, of course

Kei was surprised by how much his mentor was able to type out in such a short amount of time, but in the end, he was most surprised by how much it lined up with what you had told him earlier. The basics were the same, and Kei sighed, realizing what this meant for him.

Kei: How to I make it stop?

Kei: Hypothetically

Kuroo: When I figure that out, I'll let you know

Kei blinked at that, then sighed again.

Kei: Thanks, Kuroo-san.

Kuroo: Sure thing Skinny, let me know how it goes

Kuroo: Hypothetically, of course

Kei couldn't help but chuckle softly, and he set his phone aside, wondering whether this was going to change anything, and how long he had been in love with you.

He had always noticed the little things about you, it was just a part of him being perceptive, and he had grown up with you, so he automatically knew you better than 80 percent of the people you went to school with.

But he was more in tune with your presence than even Tadashi was. And he had always managed to pick your voice out in a crowd.

He glanced down at you, and suddenly, instead of being worried about if he was in love you, he was more worried about whether you loved him back or not.

Kei debated texting Tadashi, but he decided that it could wait, and he wanted to enjoy this time with you unhindered.

Kei knew that he was never going to say anything unless he was sure you felt the same way about him.

For one thing, you were nice enough that it was entirely possible that you would date him just because you were too nice to say no. For another thing, he wasn't the kind of guy to make a move if he thought it wouldn't lead to a win. Not to mention, that if you he did ask you out and you said no, that might make things awkward in the friend group, and Kei didn't want that to happen.

He had gone this long, right? What was a few more weeks?

But, of course, things didn't go the way that Kei wanted them to.

As the end of a semester approached, as well as the end of the year, projects piled on, as did speeches and tests.

Kei had always done well academically, and he wasn't as stressed as some of the other people he knew, like Hinata and Kageyama.

You seemed to be feeling the pressure too, even though Kei knew that you were going to be getting some of the higher grades in class, just like always.

You were freaking out more than usual, and Kei realized that he needed to do something if he didn't want you to overwork yourself.

He found you on the swings at the park by your house.

He had gone over to make sure that you had eaten something, but your mother had told him that you had gone out earlier, and that she didn't know where you were.

"Hey," he said, announcing his presence as he settled beside you.

"Hey Kei," you replied, staring at the ground in front of you like it held the key to the universe.

"Are you okay?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm so nervous and freaked out that I can't eat anything. I have that weird mineral deficiency so drinking water just makes me really dizzy and I almost passed out when I stood up at the end of the day and there's nothing I can do about it! Not to mention that, once again, I got stuck with the morons that aren't going to do anything to help me with the project so I'm stuck doing everything by myself. For some of my classes, that's okay, I can just tell the teacher that they didn't help, but for some of them they're going to give me that bullshit lecture about working together. I have no idea what to do my speech about for that one class, and I have so many back to back tests that I think I might forget everything!"

Kei let you ramble, watching the way your hands moved around, trying to communicate the stress and anger and nerves that you were experiencing all at once.

He watched the way yours eyes widened and squeezed shut to add extra emphasis. He watched the way you glanced over at him to make sure that he was still paying attention, to make sure that you weren't annoying him, the way you smiled a little bit whenever you noticed that he was watching you and that you weren't annoying him by talking.

Somehow, you started talking about the constant love letters that he was getting.

"I mean, I get that some girls feel the need to have a boyfriend," you said, rolling your eyes, "but I have bigger things to worry about than their attraction to you, you know? One girl gave me a letter the other day, and I was so tired that I didn't realize what it was, and I started to read it and I was caught between wanting to laugh, cry, and hurl all at the same time."

Kei perked up at that.

"It made me kinda sad too," you admitted, your voice quieting. "I mean, it must really suck for you, getting all these letters claiming that they love you when they don't even know that first thing about who you are. I mean, it was hilarious that she even thought that you were interested in getting a girlfriend, and it was sickening how many times she used the words 'hot', 'sexy', and 'unadulteratedly handsome' to describe you."

Kei knew he made a face at that, with the way you laughed, before you continued, your voice even quieter than it had been, "But it made me sad to think that you keep having to read these things. They claim that they love you, that they want to be with you, and they don't even know who you are. Not in a way that matters at least. I don't know, it was just kind of depressing I guess."

You glanced at him, turning to face him.

"I hope you don't mind, but I started throwing them away. I'm getting sick and tired of being their carrier pigeon, and I really hate thinking about you having to deal with them all the time. If they want to confess they can find another way to do it."

"I don't mind, at all," he assured you, and you smiled at him.

But then your smiled faded into something similar to a frown.

"Hey, Kei?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember that promise we made when we were kids?"

"How could I forget? You never shut up about it during middle school," he teased.

"I broke that promise," you whispered. "That was one of the reasons that those letters made me so upset. As someone who has loved you, really loved you, for longer than they've known about you, it made me sick to read some of the things they said. I know that that makes me sound like some kind of possessive bitch, but it's true."

Kei stared at you, wondering if he had just heard that right.

You were in love with him? And had been for more than three years?

Kei felt like the breath had been knocked out of him.

"What's with the face Kei?" you asked. "I thought you knew already."

Kei didn't think that his eyes could get any wider than they were at that moment.

"Y-You . . . I-I what?"

"Come on Kei, you had to have noticed by now," you said, looking more concerned by the second. "I mean, it's not like I act the same way around everyone else that I do around you."

Kei let his brain process the things that you were telling him before he managed to squeak out, "You mean, like a friend thing right?"

You bit your lip, checking his face for something, fiddling with your fingers in your lap.

"No, Kei," you said finally. "I mean like, I want to be your girlfriend kind of love."

You weren't looking at him now, and he was worried you were taking this the wrong way. He didn't want this to end in a misunderstanding so he sighed dramatically.

"So, you're telling me that I could have confessed months ago and avoided the entire overthinking part of my recent internal panic?" he asked, watching the way your brows furrowed with confusion, the way your head whipped up when you finally realized what he was saying to you.

"A-Are you saying that the feeling is mutual?" you asked, eyes wide as you both looked at each other.

"Yes, you dumbass," he teased, smiling softly at you. "I broke that promise too, so it's okay, since we both broke it."

Now you were the one staring at him in disbelief.

Then you were off your swing and pacing in front of them, waving your hands around like a madwoman.

"Holy shit, you love me back," you muttered, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye every few seconds, like you were worried he would disappear. "I-I don't know what to do from here. I never thought that I would get this far. Is . . . is this where we talk about whether we want this to be a serious thing?" you asked. "Is this where we agree that we love each other but we pretend like nothing's changed? What am I supposed to do in this situation?"

"For one thing," Kei said, standing so that he could wrap his hands around your wrists, gently making you look at him. "You could calm down and let me get a word or two in before you make yourself black out."

You nodded, taking a deep breath.

"For another," he continued, "you and I should go back to your house. Your mom is worried sick about you, and you need to eat something before you pass out. We can have a serious talk about what this means once you aren't in danger of passing out from exhaustion or malnutrition."

"Okay, but only because I know that you're going to make me do it anyway," you told him, making him laugh.

You both walked in silence for a while before you asked, "When did you realize?"

"A few months ago," he admitted. "I think I've always known, but that guy- the slimeball that I blocked- got on my nerves enough that I knew it wasn't some platonic 'protect a friend' thing. I started seeing it more and more after that. I talked to Kuroo-san about it when I was nearly 100 percent sure, and that solidified it for me I guess, that night you and Tadashi stayed over and we watched that horrid slasher film. I woke up and you were right there by my side, and suddenly I couldn't imagine waking up any other way."

"That really was a horrible movie," you muttered. "I didn't think you were going to be the cheesy one today, but then again, you are always surprising me. And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I was worried it would make things awkward, and I didn't want to say something and be wrong, you know? Besides, you can't say anything. How long have you known?"

"Do you remember the summer before our third year in middle school and we all stayed at my grandparents' camp for three weeks?"

"That long? We were- what?- twelve?"

"Yeah. I remember that there was a thunderstorm the first night we were there, and I got up in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep, so I stood on the deck, in a tank top and shorts because I wanted to. I don't even remember how long I had been out there when you wandered out. I remember calling you a dumbass because 'What if I was a murderer?' and you just called me short.

"We both stood there for a few minutes, and when I shivered, you wrapped your arms around my waist from behind me, pressing your chest to my back and calling me an idiot for wearing something so light in the middle of a thunderstorm. Instead of doing the sensible thing and getting a blanket or a jacket, you just hugged me and stood there with me until I couldn't stand it and we went inside."

Kei remembered that. He had seen you standing out on the deck when the lightning had flashed, and he had been worried when you weren't in your room, so he had gone out to check on you.

You had looked so happy, standing there in the rain, listening to the thunder crash in the distance.

He had wanted to stay with you, so he had.

It was one of the first times he had decided that he didn't care what it looked like, he cared for you, and he was going to show it somehow.

Kei slipped his hand into yours, interlacing your fingers together.

You glanced at him, but you didn't say anything, just squeezed his hand and walked with him.

When you both got back to your house, you grabbed a plate of food and plopped down at your desk in your room.

Kei lounged on your bed while you ate, watching you flip through a textbook and scribble notes in between bites of food.

When you pushed the plate to the side, your turned to face him.

"So."

You both locked eyes and chuckled.

"I already told you what I wanted out of this," you told him, shrugging. "I'm fine with whatever we decide, but that's my best case scenario ending for this."

"You make this sound like a business meeting," he teased, watching you stand up to move next to him on your bed.

"What do you want from this, Kei?" you asked, glancing down at your lap.

"I want you to be my girlfriend," he admitted. "I want to glare at guys that think they even have a chance with you. I want to kiss you for good luck before a game, all that sappy shit that everyone says that I wouldn't be into."

You smiled, laughing a little breathlessly for a moment before you comprehended everything he said.

"All of it?" you asked, turning those damned doe eyes on him again.

"All of it," he confirmed.

You chuckled softly, taking his hand again.

"Good. Me too."

"Good," he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

You giggled, something that made Kei stop for a moment, because you weren't the type of girl to giggle, at anything.

He smiled softly at you, and he wondered how much shit he was going to get from his team with you around, but he realized that it wasn't anything he needed to worry about yet.

Then he remembered something else.

"Hey, do you want to cause a little chaos?" Kei asked you.

"How so?"

"Remember how I said I talked to Kuroo-san?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he wanted me to let him know how it went," Kei admitted. "I have him, Bokuto, Akaashi, Lev, and Hinata in a discord group chat. I want to try something, if you're okay with it."

"What do you have in mind?" you asked, arching an eyebrow, a smirk on your lips that said you were up for almost anything.

Skinny: img.jpg

Skinny: Thanks Kuroo-san

five people are typing...

Kei laughed, leaning over to show you the chaos that had ensued when he had sent the group chat the photo of you kissing his cheek.

You giggled at the many exclamation points and question marks, snickering at Kuroo's reply.

"I love you," you told him, kissing his cheek again.

"I love you too," he said, ignoring the calls that were coming through on his phone as he leaned over to cup your face in his hands.

514 notes · View notes

kyoomiii · 4 years

Text

♡ Confession mishaps [hcs]

- ➣. . . ❝ hey i was wondering if you could do a kenma kuroo and bokuto (separately and if u do that many��) where they try to ask their crush out but since the crush had been bullied in middle school, she thinks it’s a prank and kinda gets upset? thank u sm! ❞

― 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @ anonie ―

- ✎ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ❝ kenma, kuroo, and bokuto ❞

- [ 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): there aren’t any explicit mentions of the bullying, however there are references to insecurities ]

- ⚘ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 ❝ fluff, angst if you squint ❞

❝ sorry for the long wait anonnie, but hopefully this is to your liking <3 ❞

-yoomi ♡

The experience as a whole is new to Kenma. He had never taken interest in people before, always wary but never seeking.

He didn’t understand the clench of his heart, or the flush of his cheeks. He doesn’t know why you make his heart thunder in his chest, beating so quickly he fears it might pop out.

He doesn’t get it, so he ignores it, let it be the way it is because thinking about it too much gives him a headache, it fills him with anxiety.

On the other hand, Kuroo, he notices, sees the lingering glances from his friend and the gentle pink that dusts the apples of Kenma’s cheeks. He’s probably more excited about the whole ordeal than Kenma himself is, and he definitely can’t help that he feels he has to meddle a little, because at this point he fears Kenma will let the opportunity slip. Especially now as he inwardly cringes at Kenma's lack of motivation, despite the obvious (to him at least) longing in Kenma’s eyes.

“Kenma-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t have to… I already know it’s going to be a bad idea.”

“Ouch, I was just going to say that you should tell y/n about your little crush, ya know before someone beats you to it.”

“I do not have a crush.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too~”

“Whatever…”

“So you do!”

“... No.”

As the day draws to a close, Kuroo somehow manages to recruit Lev into his little devious scheme. The poor tall unsuspecting kitten is oblivious to the dangerous glint in Kuroo’s eyes. Even now, as the two peer around the corner of the entryway, eyes locked onto the pudding haired boy they call their fiend.

Their attention quickly snaps to you as you enter the scene, walking at a mild pace as you go to meet the unsuspecting Kenma, who stiffens at your sudden appearance, shoulders visibly tensing.

You were never close to Kenma, you were in the same grade and shared some classes, but the interactions remained limited, only ever resulting in conversations regarding schoolwork, or the occasional greeting.

Even so, you had found yourself engrossed by the boy who spoke so little some didn’t think he had a voice. He was in a way enchanting, to you at least. And perhaps you had grown a little too fond of him, admiring from afar, but keeping distance out of fear.

So it truly did surprise you when you received that little piece of paper, words written just a tad bit messy, and the words nothing short of sweet and endearing. The piece signed with a simple “from Kenma”

“Kozume-san I received your letter, it was very sweet.”

“...Letter?”

“Your love letter…?”

“Why would I send you a love letter?”

Kenma knows, as soon as your brows pinch, frown etched into your features he had messed up. He didn’t mean to sound harsh but your sudden appearance, and the mention of a love letter from him nonetheless startled him beyond belief. He liked you of course, but he needed time to ease into it, and this sudden crash of feelings and uncertainty filled his entire being with anxiety.

“I see… I’m sorry to have bothered you Kozume-san. Forgive me, I should have known better.”

He doesn’t miss the little scoff that falls from your lips, or the way that tears threaten to spill from those eyes that he’s grown to love so much.

“Have a nice day.”

“-Wait l/n-san.”

Kenma is surprised he can even hear his own voice, especially as his heart beats faster than it ever has before. He must’ve been a little loud, he concludes judging by your surprised expression.

“I...Eh…”

“Kozume-san?”

“I do like you… I just didn’t send that letter.”

An eruption of feelings explode within you like fireworks lighting up the night sky. You feel your breathing suddenly stop as your lungs suddenly find themselves unable to function properly as your brain malfunctions. He likes you back.

“l/n-san?-”

“I like you too!”

The sudden outburst leaves behind an awkward silence, both faces flushed hands sweating as you stare at one another unsure and panicked.

“Just y/n.”

“What?”

“Please just call me y/n.”

“Then please call me Kenma.”

And as you gently grasp onto his hand, the two of you become too distracted to notice the grinning cats just around the corner.

“KISS ALREADY!”

“Oh my god…”

Kuroo Tetsurou is nothing short of honest, he knows this, and deep down it’s something he prides himself in. However his current predicament is churning the little devious gears in his head.

Something as simple as an ex-girlfriend who can’t seem to take a hint has been driving him up the wall, and he is more than tired- he is downright exhausted.

For weeks on end it seems as if she’s around every corner, lurking, waiting, watching. Just to pounce on him, begging to get back together. And being the honest man he is, he tells her the same thing over and over.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”

And today she seemed to be especially present, tailing after him when she could and bothering him to the point where he felt like he might explode.

Don’t get him wrong, he still cared for her to an extent, she was a friend before she was someone he had romantic feelings for and he didn’t want to burn that bridge between them. But still, things were getting out of hand and maybe a little push would stir her away.

Peeking around the corner he makes a break for it, however, despite his best attempts at hiding it seems that his height and unmistakable rooster bed head places him at a disadvantage.

“Tetsu-kun!”

Quick, he thinks as his eyes dart around the hall, landing on face after face until he recognizes someone he knows.

Dodging bodies and receiving dirty glares from students who were nearly trampled, he swiftly makes his way over to you.

You had known Kuroo Tetsurou since your first year of highschool, the two of you were friends, and you often hung out with him and the other third years on the Nekoma volleyball team, but your platonic feelings for him soon grew into something much more.

He was sweet after all, a genuine person with good intentions even if his face and his naughty grin said otherwise.

You were never sure if your feelings would be returned so you kept quiet, admiring from a distance as he held the hand of another girl, because you didn’t feel like he would spare you a glance in terms of romance.

But as he comes barreling towards you, his frame pinning you to the wall, face much too close to be played off as anything but romantic, you hope that maybe, just maybe there might be something there that isn’t platonic, that isn’t him looking at you as if you were just a friend.

“Tetsurou-”

“Shh…”

Flustered and embarrassed you stay quiet hiding your face away from the prying eyes of students who are curious at the scene playing out before them.

Much to your dismay and relief, the moment lasts for only a mere fraction of a minute, and Kuroo releases you with a sigh.

“Thanks for playing along y/n.”

Your hopes are immediately crushed, but at the same time you chide yourself because you should know better. Someone like Kuroo Tetsurou would never admire you the way you admired him.

“It’s… No problem.”

And you don’t mean for your voice to waver, or for your hands to tremble as you become flustered beyond belief for thinking otherwise.

“If you don’t mind I need to go.”

You speak hurriedly because you fear that he’ll see the way your eyes water, or hear the way your voice wavers.

“Wait y/n!”

Despite the call of your name you don’t stop, you can’t stop, you can’t let him see you like this because he’ll see right through you with those perceptive eyes.

It’s only the gentle grip of a hand around your wrist that brings you to a halt, hazel eyes peering down at you as you struggle to gently tug away from his hold on you.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“It’s okay Tetsurou, really.”

“No, I clearly upset you and what I did wasn’t cool…”

“That’s not why I’m upset.”

You huff, the tears you tried so hard to hold in spilling down your cheeks and landing on the linoleum flooring in small puddles. You inhale shakily eyes closing for a moment to recoup, you decide that it might as well be now than never.

“I just- really like you. And I don’t know, I felt I had a chance a second ago. It was silly of me to think that. It’s okay if you don’t return my feelings- or heck if you don’t want to be friends anymore I get it.”

Kuroo is shocked, eyes wide and mouth almost agap. He’s almost speechless, after months of pinning he thought it was obvious.

“You’re so dense you know that?”

“.....What?”

“I like you too. I thought I was making that obvious.”

His obnoxious laughter that you’ve grown to love fills the now empty halls.

“How about I take you on a proper date, this weekend?”

“I’d like that.”

If there was one way you’d describe Bokuto Koutarou it would be sunshine. Sure he had a knack for falling into his so-called “emo mode” but even then he seemed to pick himself up just as quick as he’d let himself fall.

It was something you admire most about him, his endless bounds of energy that seemed to radiate from his dazzling being. Bokuto Koutarou is nothing short of a ray of sunshine.

On the other hand another word you’d use to describe him would be dense.

Could he really not tell your interest in him? Or was it that he chose to ignore it? Did he purposefully disregard your lingering glances, your shy touches, or you softening eyes? He had no obligation to return your feelings, you understood that. But that factor didn’t ease the continuous chipping curiosity had at your mind.

Even now, as Bokuto comes bounding up to you, frame as broad as always and grin stretched wider than the sea.

“y/n~”

He calls before completely engulfing you with his whole body weight sending both of you tumbling to the ground.

“Koutarou you can’t just do that.”

Your whines of disapproval trail through one ear and out the other as his bubbling laughter sounds throughout the gym.

“I’m sorry y/n I’m just so happy to see you.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up, your palms becoming sweaty at his sudden declaration. You knew Bokuto was always open with his affections, always one to be friendly to anyone and everyone, but the thought of him being happy to see you seemed to set your heart aflutter.

Nevertheless you try to brush those feelings aside, gently ruffling the hair atop his head, something that had quickly become a norm after he expressed his fondness of the action.

“I’m happy to see you too Kou.”

“Let me just grab my stuff and we can get going.”

He chimes happily as he releases you from his hold, bounding off to the locker room to retrieve his belongings. His broad shoulders face you, and it’s then that he doesn’t see the look of yearning in your eyes.

“You should tell him how you feel.”

A voice suddenly states, startling you from your trance, Their words registering in your head quickly, sending a flare to your face.

“I don’t know what you mean Akaashi.”

You stutter out, though Akaashi doesn’t seem to be the least bit convinced. His emerald eyes hold clear skepticism as he quirks a brow at you.

“l/n-san, you’d have to be blind not to see your clear infatuation with him. But if you’re not up to it I won’t intervene. It’s not my place.”

His damage is swift and powerful, leaving you in a state of bewilderment despite him leaving just as quickly as he arrived. Akaashi Keiji could be scary…

“ y/n, is something the matter?”

“Ah-Kou. No, just some stuff of my mind I guess…”

“Kay… But I hope you know I’m always going to be here, so you can tell me anything you want.”

And for what seemed like the millionth time that day, your heart began beating rapidly, pounding in your chest to the point where through the duration of the entire walk home you couldn’t hear anything but the constant thumping in your ears despite Bokuto’s ramblings. Akaashi’s words playing in your mind like a broken record “You should tell him how you feel”

“Koutarou I like you.”

For the first time silence falls between both of you and you fear you may have ruined one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

“As in like like?”

“I mean… What other like is there…?”

His laughter feels the air, and suddenly you feel the world around you crashing down.

“I like you too. I thought I was making it obvious.”

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, golden eyes emitting pure happiness.

“What?”

“I like you too y/n… I guess we’re both a little dense huh?”

Dense indeed.

471 notes · View notes

goffilolo · 3 years

Text

Revival of Midoriya Izuku: Chapter 4 "My depression may be chronic, but my ass is iconic"

I bet you didn't think you were ever gonna see an update. well neither did I. What can I say? writing with a broken hand is a struggle.

Link to the fic on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929483/chapters/81090403

Izuku’s first day of high school was interesting, to say the least, or it would’ve been if he actually went to school instead of spreading mayhem amongst UA’s first years. Shinjuku Metropolitan has been rather lenient in regards to his attendance or lack of thereof, thanks to whatever bullshit Shin wrote to the school on his behalf to ensure that the faculty would accommodate his ‘condition’. Which is just fancy wording for ‘I got a get out of school card’. Truth be told, this is probably the best thing that the doctor has ever done for him since Izuku was nowhere near ready to return to mainstream education, not after everything that has happened in middle school. The last thing he needed were looks of pity and guilt-induced niceties from people who otherwise had no problem laughing at his misfortune.

So instead Izuku has decided to spend his time productively - if you could count tormenting your ex-childhood friend and having an accidental family reunion as such.

Uncle Shouta always had a bit of a mean streak to him, although it never really felt as such when Izuku himself interacted with him. From what little of his childhood he could remember that didn’t involve trauma and discrimination, his uncle was a somewhat kind, but grumpy man. He believed in a brand of tough love - that somehow did not correspond with the way his mother raised him in the slightest and went above and beyond for things and people he held close to his heart. Sure they haven’t seen each other since Izuku was 4, but if his uncle’s empty threats from today’s Quirk Apprehension Test are anything to go by, not much has changed.

Which brings him back to now; sitting in an empty classroom that he does not belong to - a school that he does not belong to, writing down his ever-so-detailed notes about the quirks he will only be able to admire from afar. Not much has changed , indeed.

It almost feels like a betrayal. Almost , being the operative word, because he has no reason to cling onto the things that he no longer cares about - should no longer care about, for they had died along with him that day on the roof, and were properly buried within the four walls that Izuku called his own during his stay in the hospital.

But well...looks like today Izuku is in a mood to dig up old corpses.

Metaphorically, that is.

“God, you’re still here!”

“Kacchan we’ve talked about this” he replied, rather dramatically “God is dead and all that’s left is me”

Kacchan clearly did not appreciate his superior sense of humour, if the lack of response is anything to go by. “No seriously, why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same”

“I actually study here you fuckwit!” the blond exclaimed in his ever explosive fashion “Besides I had to come back and get my change of clothes since that demonic pet of yours was sitting on them when we were all leaving for the test”

“Huh, that actually reminds me...where’s Bandit?”

“Oi, don’t change the subject you shitty Deku” replied Bakugou, as he kicked one of the chairs over towards the desk that was currently occupied by Izuku and slumped down in it in a way that would perhaps appear as non-caring to absolutely no one “I didn’t know your uncle was a pro-hero.”

Ah, so that’s what he was bothered about.

“That makes the two of us”

“Wait, really?!”

“Honestly Kacchan! Did you really think that IF I knew my uncle was a pro-hero that I would be able to ever shut up about it?”

“No way in hell!”

“Exactly!”

Well, now that the topic of his uncle has been cleared up, there wasn’t much else to talk about, at least not much that wouldn’t result in collateral damage or a Bakugou shitshow 2.0. Both of the boys were well aware of it of course, but let it never be said that either of them could be stopped by things like common sense, especially when it came to avoiding conversational land mines.

“So...what are you scribbling over here?” asked Bakugou in a rather poor and possibly the most awkward attempt at establishing small talk that has ever been known to man and sheep kind alike.

“Ok, no! That is not happening” snapped Izuku, who very much saw where this was going and was having none of it “We are NOT having a civil conversation!”

“Why the fuck not?!” replied the blond, his anger as booming and apparent as his quirk.

“Because that is not something we DO Kacchan!” shouted the teen, banging his hands against the desk, his notebook long forgotten.

“Well, maybe we should?!” exclaimed Bakugou, who was quick to anger, yet quicker to notice his ex-friend’s unusual mood as he tried to make an effort to de-escalate the situation.

“Oh? Should we really? !” sneered Izuku, feeling the kind of anger and disdain he hasn’t felt in a long time, not since that fateful day in the ward.

“That’s rich coming from you” he continued as he stood up form the chair, unable to keep still in his fury as he circled the classroom “All you ever did was shout at me, insult me and throw baseless accusations at me left and right for god knows how long, but suddenly YOU want to have a conversation with me? Isn’t it enough that we kinda talked about our feelings that one time when I was still stuck in the psych ward?!”

Honestly, what do you expect Kacchan?” asked Izuku, feeling raw and hysteric and all kinds of wrong, spilling his metaphorical guts to his ex-bully/friend “That we will just start having normal conversations like nothing ever happened, act like we’re friends or some shit? Because let’s be honest, we haven’t been friends for a very long time, that ship has sunk long before I even attempted suicide! ”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” screamed Bakugou, feeling equally angry, but mostly out of his depth in the situation. He expected Deku to possibly mock him for his awkward attempts at small talk. What the blond didn’t expect was for him to snap, in a way that was somewhat familiar but not quite, as even the few times they’ve spoken back when Izuku was in the hospital or when he got released, his tempter felt controlled in a way it was not at the moment. Katsuki wasn’t sure what exactly triggered such a strong response, but he was not looking forward to having another fight, at least not one initiated by him.

“I’m not trying to pretend it didn’t happen” he explained “I just want to move forward. I’m not the same asshole I was last year and neither are you, so I don’t want to be stuck on how things used to be ! It makes me feel like I’m going nowhere.”

“Ok! Fine! You wanna talk?! Then let me fuckin TELL you something! You asked me what I was ‘scribbling’ over here?” exclaims Izuku, as he stomps his way back towards the desk and snatches his notebook, waving it aggressively in front of Bakugou “IT’S THE SAME STUFF I’VE BEEN SCRIBBLING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME!” he screamed “Those quirk analysis notebooks you used to mock me for? It’s another one of those because as it turns out I still AM the same asshole I was last year! Now then, can YOU tell ME how many of those I’ve had?”

“Thirteen…” mutters Bakugou, feeling like he’s walking into a proverbial trap.

“Good boy, you can count! Now, can you tell me what number does it say on this one?” sneers Izuku sarcastically as he points once again at the notebook in question.

“Is this a trick question? There’s fuckin nothing on it”

“EXACTLY! And you want to know why?” screamed the distressed teen, no longer feeling angry, but tired and vulnerable, unable to stop himself from having a conversation he didn’t even want to be a part of “Because these notes used to serve a purpose, a purpose I no longer have. Hero Analysis for the Future , to be exact. But guess what Kacchan…” he whispered, no longer looking at the red eyes that used to bring him so much pain “...I no longer have a future…”

The blond hung his head in shame as he listened to his childhood friend break down in tears while hiding his face behind the very notebook that started their argument, all the while Trash Bandit who woke up due to their screaming was trying to get his owner’s attention with pathetically quiet ‘baaah’s.

“You have the right to be angry with me, after all this shit I put you through” stated Bakugou after what felt like an endless silence broken only by Izuku’s stuttering sobs. He never thought of himself as a coward, but at this moment he could not find enough bravery to sit face to face with the crying teen.

“I KNOW that you shithead-” replied Izuku as he shakily tried to take a breath in between the sobs “-but what good is that gonna do?! You’ve actually admitted that the way you treated me was wrong, hell you even voluntarily went to therapy! You’re basically going through a whole-ass redemption arc and what do I do? * sob * I’m still stuck in the past and I can’t let go of my grudges, which isn’t doing me or you any favours. I’ve told you to get your shit together, and this is exactly what you’re trying to do and instead of being h-* hic *- happy for you I’m mad-”

His rant broke off as he took another breath with tears still rolling down the freckled cheeks despite the boy’s best efforts. Izuku slumped down in his seat and with shaking hands he took out a cigarette and lighter from his backpack that was still hanging by the hook on the side of the desk. And although putting the cigarette in his mouth was relatively easy, lighting it was another matter. As Izuku grew more frustrated with the quiver in his hands, so did Bakugou. The blond became impatient as he grumbled “give it here damn it” much more quietly and gently than he normally would’ve done as he leaned forward, all the while grabbing the other teen by his shoulder with one hand, as he used to the other to quickly light the cigarette with a small explosion. Izuku’s flinch at the sudden but familiar noise and heat did not go unnoticed.

To say that Izuku was shocked by his ex-friend’s action would’ve been an understatement, but he was pleased nonetheless. If anything it proved his point that Kacchan was trying to be nicer to him, even if the attempts were somewhat awkward. The freckled teen, feeling only marginally better, leaned back in his chair facing the ceiling as he continued to blow circles of smoke up into the air, trying to regain his original train of thought.

“You’d think they would have a fire alarm in here or something” mused Bakugou as he stared at the disappearing circles.

“Hmm” replied Izuku, absentmindedly “You’d think”

The silence has once again stretched between the 2 boys, although this time it felt less oppressive in its need to be filled. Bakugou was happy to wait for Deku to finish what he started, it was the least the blond could do seeing as he was at fault for the current state of things between them.

“I’m so fuckin angry...” stated Izuku as he crashed the burnt out cigarette against the desk, which Bakugou conviniently ignored seeing as the desk was his. “I’m so fuckin angry-” he repeated despite his tone and words not matching at all “-because this proves that you could’ve gotten your shit together this whole time” he continues while gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

“You could’ve stopped this bullshit and apologised to me!” exclaims Izuku in a tone that is half resigned and half accusing “You could’ve spared me the misery, and yet you didn’t. I feel like I’ve suffered for nothing-”

“You did!” interrupted the blond.

“What?”

“You’ve suffered for nothing” clarified Bakugou “There’s literally NO good reason for you to have gone through even half the shit you did”

“I dunno about that Kacchan” teased Izuku “I’m pretty sure the reason is sitting right in front of me”

“I said no good reason damn it, don’t go around twisting my words you fuckin Deku!”

And Izuku couldn’t help but break out in laughter, because he was pretty sure that this was the first time ever that Bakugou had made a joke at his own expense and this moment was going to live in his brain rent free from now on.

“Oh God, Kacchan-” he wheezed, trying to stop himself from laughing “You were right, you really aren't the same asshole that you were last year!”

“I sure fuckin hope not” replied Bakgou who was just as close to laughing “Otherwise I would’ve had to demand refund for all of those shitty therapy sessions”

“Look at us Kacchan” said Izuku, his laugh now subdued “We’re still a fuckin mess”

“I guess we are” agreed the blond as he stared down at his friend’s notebook in a thoughtful expression.

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

After the truthfully embarrassing heart-to-heart with Kacchan, Izuku wanted to do nothing more than sink into the void for the next eternity, or at least until he gets his reminder text that he’s running late for yet another therapy session. Unfortunately neither of these options were viable seeing as he was on a self-appointed mission to catch up to his uncle. The boy hoped that uncle Shouta would still be somewhere on the premises seeing as his ugly-ass sleeping bag was still in the classroom. Izuku used that to his advantage as he gave the sleeping bag to Bandit who promptly sniffed it and began to follow the scent of a premature-midlife-crisis. Who knew that sheep could make such good hounds?

Bandit had dutifully led their owner through an ever inconvenient maze of corridors, which eventually ended with the two entering the teacher’s lounge like they had every right to be there (which they kinda did, shoutout to Nedzu!). As expected, Izuku’s uncle was in the lounge, surrounded by fellow members of staff as they tried (unsuccessfully, at least by Izuku’s standards) to get any information out of him regarding his class this year. Uncle Shouta for the most part looked like he’d rather be doing anything else and so Izuku has made an executive decision to insert himself obnoxiously into the situation.

“In my humble opinion-” he said, as he sat down next to his uncle, while Bandit jumped up on his lap “that Mineta kid should’ve been expelled. Like, we get it uncle, he has potential ” continued Izuku, as he spat the word distastefully “But how far is that potential gonna get him when all he does is harass the entire female population, like every other mediocre straight guy with self awareness of a sea cucumber?”

“A sea cucumber? Really?” asked uncle Shouta, sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he is.

“I mean don’t get me wrong” he continues, completely ignoring the unnecessary commentary “Straight people are already embarrassing as they are, but this guy is on another level, the kinda level that usually leads to a straight jacket, am I right?! Hah- I just made a pun!”

“The little listener does have a point, Shouta” replied Present Mic.

“Also, did he just say uncle ? Shouta, is there anything you’d like to tell us?” asked Midnight, you know, like a traitor.

“No”

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

It wasn’t until they walked past the gates of the school that his uncle finally stopped in his tracks to voice at least a portion of the questions that have been bubbling in his mind since the impromptu family reunion with his nephew.

“Izuku” says Shouta, with as much concern as an uncle-who-you-haven’t-seen-in-almost-a-decade is allowed to voice “What the fuck?”

“Look, I heard that question far too often in my lifetime, mostly from my therapist, so you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific” replies Izuku sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he hopes to evolve into through the sheer power of genetics and generational trauma.

“Look kid-” says the hobo looking man that has the privilege of being related to Izuku as he puts his hands together, takes a deep breath and prays to whichever God he believes is not yet dead for some guidance on how to handle this “-as much as I’d love to elaborate on the sheer amount of confusion I am experiencing right now due to your questionable way of life, I do actually have to go on a patrol so this conversation is gonna have to be postponed. In the meanwhile give your mother my regards, and I’ll hopefully see you in the near future when you decide once again to wreak havoc in my classroom.”

“No” replies the freckled teen in a total disregard for other people’s prior engagements, thus truly earning his title of a problem child.

“What do you mean no ? Izuku, I have a job to do!”

Instead of replying, Izuku has decided to simply pull a pro-gamer move, by quickly taking out a familiar pair of handcuffs from the side pocket of his backpack, cuffing one side to his uncle’s hand and the other to his own. That on its own is probably not particularly impressive, however it is the speed of the action that has earned it the title of a pro-gamer move, which Izuku is quite proud of. His uncle on the other hand is definitely less so, looking at his cuffed wrist like it has somewhat betrayed him.

“Please tell me you did not just do that”

“I did not just do that”

After wasting about 10 minutes of his life on fruitless struggle of trying to get the handcuffs off like an untrained dog trying to chew off its own leash, Aizawa Shouta; the underground hero Eraserhead, the infamous Erasure Hero has slumped in defeat, internally swearing to himself to one day get revenge on his unruly nephew.

“God, I am so going to have a talk with my sister about this” he says, as if a threat of authority had any meaning to the green headed teen.

“Yeah, no shit, that’s the whole point, we’re going to my house now” replies the teen, completely disregarding any attempt at ‘ an adult asserting their authority ’ over him.

“I still have to go on a patrol tonight” repeats Shouta, as if it was somewhat relevant.

“That sounds like a you problem”

#demise!au #bnha #revival of midoriya izuku #fanfic

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oneletteredwondered · 4 years

Text

Odd

Logan's first day of public school.

Minor warning for some brief bullying.

Addams family au, based off this picture and au by @misplaced-my-notes hey ily.

The long black car pulls up to the blue gates of the public school. Children are running about all directions inside the property, yelling and screaming. Some are sitting on the dirty ground smacking their hands together in some strange ritualistic pattern. There are adults standing on the outskirts keeping careful watch in case someone gets hurt.

Logan stares out the window with his messenger bag over one shoulder. There's a notebook on his lap for the express purpose of taking notes on the other children. He twists his suit jacket in his hands.

Logan is not intimidated.

"Thank you for the ride, Thing," Logan says. The disembodied hand on the steering wheel scutters and turns to face him. It bounces once and raises a finger. Logan huffs.

"I am not nervous." He says, purposefully unclenching the hem of his jacket. Thing bounces twice. Logan deigns not to answer it.

He exits the car, taking a second to make sure his outfit is wrinkle free and shuts the door. He thanks Thing one more time through the open window and begins to make his way up to the blue gates. He has a pen in his notebook at the ready.

He's scribbling notes as he walks, peering over the top of his notebook at the other students. They are so different from him. It's to be expected when under the assumption they have been in public school for their whole lives while Logan has been home schooled for his.

His first observation is that the other students have more finite social skills, moving from person to person with a simple question but not taking the time to really get to know them. Base level acquaintances by definition but he hears the word friend be tossed around. None of them exhibit the requirements for 'friends' in his opinion.

"Question if I may," he approaches a group of girls in the sand. They look to each other then back at him. He marks down silent communication on his pad of paper to explore later.

"I observed you putting your hands together. What is the benefit to that?" He asks. The girls once again give each other looks that Logan can't decipher.

"You mean patty-cake?" One finally says. Logan writes that down.

"It's a game." Another says but this time the tone isn't nice or questioning, but bordering on rude. Logan finds them staring at him with creases near their eyes.

"What benefit does it serve?" He asks anyway.

"Do you not play games?" And then they are laughing and he doesn't know why. Logan is confused. He does not like being confused. Further more, he does play games. Just last week he and his Uncle Remus played how many light bulbs does it take to to short circuit his nervous system. 37. His brother Remy filmed the whole thing for their next family reunion.

It doesn't matter because the girls get up and walk away from him, one of them smacking his notebook to the dirt and laughing again. It's rude. Logan picks it up and shakes the dirt off. He feels a burning on his face.

A new feeling he is not a fan of.

A bell rings and Logan plainly follows the teachers rules to find his designated classroom.

He spends the next hour ignoring the teacher and detailing the interaction, trying to figure out the nuances of what he did to get the girls to act unkindly. He comes up with nothing, which is more frustrating than he cares to admit.

He spends the next hour after that arguing with the teacher about Christopher Columbus because they have wildly different accounts of what he did to the world. In the end, Logan has something called a detention and one of his classmates is crying because he talked about murder. He was simply trying to inform them of the truth.

Logan does not pout.

During the scheduled lunch period Logan spends the time alone at a table, writing notes about the hidden groups within groups at each table. It's not until the hour is almost up that he realizes the other children are whispering and looking at him, and it doesn't look nice either.

This is proven as when the period ends, someone snags his notebook, holding it over their head where Logan can't reach without looking undignified jumping for it.

"What are you writing about you weirdo?" They taunt. Logan just stands and stares at them. Without his notebook he begins to details his observations out loud.

"Taller male uses his height against others. Perhaps a tactic learned at home. Possibly used to try and seem more likable by his peers. Uses physical attributes as they are certainly lacking in the intellectual department." Logan places a hand to his chin in thought, circling the student who took his book. A small crowd of students forms around them.

"What did you just say to me?" They ask dumbly. Logan sighs.

"My apologies, I didn't realizes your critical thinking skills were so severely missing. I said you are not smart so you try to be liked by being stronger than others." The bully stares at Logan angrily. Logan stares back. Suddenly the bully shoves the notebook back into his hands.

"Mr Saga! He called me stupid!" The bully points a finger at him accusatory. Logan gapes.

"I did not! I called you severely lacking in intelligence. There’s a difference!"

"Mr Addams." An authoritative voice comes from behind him. Logan turns to see a teacher looking disapproving back at him.

"Come with me Mr Addams." They say. Logan follows plainly, turning to glare at the bully as they look smugly back at him. It's then that Logan realizes they planned their words and got Logan in trouble on purpose. How rude.

Logan writes that down.

He gets a small lecture from the teacher about how it's impolite to call someone stupid, which Logan clarifies, again, he did not, in fact, call any one stupid. The teacher just sighs.

"Since this is your first day and you're coming from being home schooled, I'll let you off with a warning, try to not let it happen again." Mr Saga says. Logan narrows his eyes but agrees for the time being.

He exits the classroom to find another student leaning against the walls beside the door. They perk up seeing him, waiting for him. They wear a flowy blue skirt and there's a white bow in their unruly curly hair. They give Logan a bright smile.

"Hi." They say first.

"Salutations." Logan says back. The other giggles and Logan isn't sure what they found funny.

"I just wanted to say I thought it was cool the way you stood up to Nate like that. He holds things over people's heads a lot." They inform him. Logan makes a note in his book as he walks, the other student falling in line with him.

"What are you writing down?" They ask. Logan studies them for a second, trying to figure out their motive. They just smile softly at him behind their round glasses.

"I am detailing the differences from being home schooled to those who have been in public schools." The other makes an 'oh' noise.

"Actually if I may, might I inquire some insight from you?" Logan stops in the middle of the hallway, his walking partner stops as well. They nod their head happily, swaying back and forth.

Logan details the conversation he had earlier with the girls in the sand, confusion apparent as he is unsure what he did to make them treat him like that. His new friend giggles again. It doesn't sound mean at all and a part of Logan wishes to detail the noise in his book.

"It's not uh, common, to ask questions like that, so they uh, probably, just acted mean cause they didn't know what else to do." Well. Even if they didn't sound sure, it's a better explanation than Logan could come up with. He details the theory in his book.

"My name's Patton by the way!" The student says. Logan holds out his hand. Patton blinks at it.

"Logan Addams," Logan introduces himself. Patton still hasn't shook his hand. Logan shifts awkwardly.

"It's polite to take my hand," he tries to explain. At that Patton grins wide and takes his hand. But he doesn't shake his hand proper, instead he squeezes it and doesn't let go.

Logan sputters and suddenly Patton is dragging him through the hall, telling Logan all about the strange slapping hand ritual from earlier. It's a game of some kind apparently, made for the pure fact to be fun and sometimes challenging with no purpose otherwise. Logan does his best to remember these details but Patton's hand is warm in his and it's very distracting.

Warm. Not like the burning of earlier where he felt sad and angry. This is soft warmth that makes him flustered and.. happy? Patton guides them to class, making some excuse about getting lost. The class laughs at their misfortune but Patton shrugs it off, so Logan figures it's best to do so as well.

He decides not to speak during class, writing and writing all the information Patton provided to him down. It's important for research, nothing else.

At the end of the day Patton is by his side again, walking him out the front gates and chatting aimlessly about seemingly nothing. They wait together for a while, cars moving in a line to pick up the kids. A long sleek black car is last in line.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Patton calls, beginning to step away.

"Do you have a guardian coming to collect you?" Logan asks curiously not really wanting their conversation to end. Patton is.. willing to talk to him.. and provide valuable commentary. That's all. Patton shakes his head to the question.

"I live with my grandma just a few minutes from here, so I just walk home," he explains. Logan swallows a lump in his throat.

"Would you care for a ride home then? As thank you for being helpful to me today." He adds quickly. It doesn't stop Patton from beaming at him and that causes something downright strange to happen to Logan's stomach.

"Thanks Lolo," He says and Logan is so caught up in that something he's barely coherent when he opens the door to the car for Patton like a gentleman, and Patton screams.

"THERE'S A HAND!" He yelps, skittering to hide behind Logan and pointing over his shoulder into the car. Thing taps the wheel hard.

"Yes of course there's a hand." Logan says plainly.

"Its name is Thing, its my family's house keeper." Logan goes on, sliding into the car. Patton looks between Logan and Thing with very clear fear in his eyes. He slowly slides in beside Logan and closes the door.

"Can it.. uh, actually drive?" Patton's voice squeaks.

"He is the safest driver in our family." The car moves and Patton is frozen still and not talking as they pull out of the the school lot. He barely manages to give directions to his home. Logan isn't sure what happened. Patton was so.. cheerful a moment ago. Logan fiddles with the hem of his suit then reaches over to give Patton's hand a squeeze like Patton did for him earlier in the day.

Whatever it does, it works, as Patton begins to smile at him again and Logan finds himself smiling back, but just a little. Patton is relaxed by the time they pull up to a small cottage styled house.

"Thanks for the ride Logan, uh.. Thing?" Thing lifts a finger in a wave and Patton waves a finger back at it, a giggle slipping out. Logan ends up staring unable to look away. There's that noise again, the one that he wants to document and hold onto and hear again and again. What is wrong with him?

"See you tomorrow Logan," Patton says impossibly soft and he's looking at Logan so nicely and Logan manages a quick 'bye' and the door closes. Logan scoots to the window and watches as Patton enters his home.

Thing begins the drive back home. It taps the steering wheel.

"It was fine," Logan says curtly, hands crinkling his notebook on his lap. He thinks back over the day and he ends up warm again thinking about Patton and that strange thing happens to his stomach again.

Once home Logan wastes no time in heading to the moonroom in the back of the house. The sides of the room are all glass, but thick black curtains cover them while the sun is up, only opening when the moon is high in the sky. It's filled with plots of rose thorns, the petals and bulbs scattered all over the floor so when his parents waltz they swirl around them.

His father is there, wearing something long and black, a swirling shadow around his neck as he reads from a large tome with witch words written on the inside. There’s a pendant in his hand that sways as he walks the room. His skin is deathly pale and cold, but still manages to give comforting hugs when called for.

"Father," Logan says when he enters. The shadow thing around his father's shoulder puffs into nothingness and takes its rightful resting place under his father's eyes.

"Logan dear, how was your first day at the public school?" Virgil asks, taking a seat at one of the long tattered benches in the room. He pats the seat beside him and Logan goes to sit by him.

"I believe myself to be ill." Logan tells him plainly. Virgil gasps and goes to touch his forehead.

"Did one of the other school children give you a pox? Your Uncle Remus would love to experience it with you." Virgil says. Logan pushes his hand off. Holding his father's hand doesn't feel the same as holding Patton's he notices bitterly.

"I do not think any of them were sick to my knowledge but I am feeling.. Odd." He settles on. Virgil tsks sadly. When Logan had announced he wanted to attend the public school to study the other kids, Virgil had encouraged his brilliant mind.

His son confided that it's not that he didn't love his father's lessons on the occult or his padre's lessons with the sword, but this is an experiment all on it's own, one he got to do all on his own. Seeing his child so distraught about something they were so excited about is distressing.

Virgil looks up as his husband enters the room, giving him a pointed look towards their son. Roman flicks the ashes of his cigar into one of the potted plants and takes a seat on the other side of Logan.

"What ever is the matter son?" Roman asks. He takes one more puff of his cigar and tosses it. One of the plants jerk up to eat it. Virgil glares at him because they have discussed it's not healthy for the plants to be smoking yet.

Logan recounts his day for his parents, flipping through his notebook as he does. Virgil and Roman are attentive, nodding approvingly to Logan's banter with the teacher about the misinterpretation about Chris Columbus, and Roman laughs heartily when Logan explains how he never actually called someone stupid. He has way better insults that stupid anyway.

"And then Patton, he-" Logan cuts off his words with a pout, feeling that strange feeling again. Virgil plays with his hair comfortingly.

"Is Patton a good one or a bad one?" He asks.

"He's good." Logan says quickly. Roman raises his eyebrows at that. He and Virgil share a questioning look over Logan's head.

"He's good, but he- he makes me feel weird. He makes me feel sickly." Logan explains.

"Even though he's good?" Virgil asks. Logan nods but he doesn't look happy about it.

"He's sweet and kind and explained some of the social instances for me." Logan swallows hard.

"He makes my chest feel like it's constricting. Shortness of breath isn't healthy and while talking to him I almost stuttered which is concerning for my brain scan last week did not have any abnormalities." Logan had been upset about the lack of abnormalities, but now he's more upset cause if there were, then at least he'd have a working theory of the cause of this sudden feeling.

He's hugged on both sides by his parents and even though he's still confused it does make him feel slightly better.

"Maybe we should meet your new friend?" Roman asks. Logan stiffens, then nods. The word friend echoes in his head. Are he and Patton friends? It is something he is going to have to inquire about. He hops off the bench and heads to his room, finishing what little homework he has, then proceeding to electrocute his brother until his eyes are glowing blue.

And he takes time to think about Patton. He used a full page in his book to try and document his laugh. He feels odd for sure but not bad. He will have to conduct more experiments he decides, almost smiling at the idea of spending more time with his.. new friend, and the experiments of course.

"Ah, young love," Roman laments back in the moonroom. He takes Virgil's hand and kisses up his arm to his lips. Virgil allows the affection.

"He doesn't realize it yet though," Virgil chides. Roman just smirks at him.

"He will figure it out eventually. He takes after you in that regard." It's teasing and Virgil pushes him away and stands. Roman is quick on the upkeep, chasing to catch Virgil by the waist and pull him into a dip.

"You mustn't tell him," Virgil says hanging from Roman's arms. "You know how he gets when the answer is spoiled for him." Roman pulls Virgil back to standing, twirling him around the room, rose petals dancing at their feet.

"I have full confidence in our little mad scientist," Roman says with a dashing smile. Virgil returns it with a smirk.

"Just like you have full confidence with me?" He's teasing. Roman lights up.

"Is that a dare my darling?" He leans in. Virgil laughs dark and low, gripping Roman by the lapels of his white suit.

"It's a threat," he whispers against Roman's lips. A pleasant shiver runs through Roman as he kisses his husband quiet, knowing the feelings tormenting Logan will come to light all on their own.

And when Logan finally invites Patton over, and the soft boy screams at Virgil's pet spider, giving Athena the fear she deserves and hasn't had in such a long time, and Logan spends an hour comforting him, both Virgil and Roman decide Patton is good, and that Logan has made an excellent choice for a friend.

AN: So I wrote this and then after saw OP artist put Emile as Uncle Fester... so I'm claiming creative liberties with making Remus Uncle Fester because a) he and Roman are actual brothers and b) I love him.

#addams family au #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #fic #my post

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yanderecandystore · 4 years

Note

How would Jack react to an artistic s/o, like he carries a sketchbook with him at all times and once Jack saw that he had at least a full page of just Jack doodles and sketches

Yo, hello there! I'm sorry for taking so long to answer you, I was trying to find the right time to write! :3

Do y'all mind if I changed it up a little bit? Changing a little bit of "reader's role" in this headcanon, instead of always being the "one of his gang's members" and such. I decided to add a little more than one page of sketches though •v• because I'm an ass.

Also oh my God, I'm sorry for babbling so much at the start ;-;.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

A cool and peaceful breeze in the middle of all Hell [Yandere!Delinquent OC Male artist!Reader - Headcanon]:

Let's set the stage, dear.

You're one of many students inside Saint Bernard's School for Prodigies, a place that since it's building process, was meant to be a safe environment to all gifted students, and even students that didn't seem to have any talent at all. It was built to be a welcoming place.

It was built to rival Amaryllis Academy. While Amaryllis was focused on a specific group of people (coff coff rich families coff coff), Saint Bernard's was supposed to be the… "Common crowd alternative".

It never got to the same level of development as Amaryllis did. Although there are rumours about the Academy being a breeding ground for prejudice and discriminatory behavior (involving a lot of bullying towards students that had paid their way into the scholarship), Saint Bernard's was basically disfuncional.

The only thing granting a base for it's failed and shaky structure, was government income and the rumours around the school. Student deaths, delinquency, gang fights, fragile authority that fails to reinforce school regulations, contraband inside school grounds, no security for both the faculty's staff nor the students, severe cases of bullying, etc, etc.

You heard that a billion times. And don't get me wrong, it is not like there aren't good people here, good people that can't afford a better place to go. But the bad overthrows the good.

So here you are, just another boy trying to pass through the school year like any other student. A guy trying to keep under the radar of… Basically, every single student and teacher in this place. You came with terms that, sadly, you couldn't trust no one here.

You saw what happens if someone like you starts to get comfortable around these people. They're brutal. The thought of getting out of this place has crossed your mind many times, but you don't really know where else to go. It's the nearest place to your house, and it's literally free to enter.

You're the silent type, you're not exactly antisocial by any means, you just prefer to be left alone with your pens and your trust sketchbook, although, it's kinda not having much space left, is it?

You don't have more money to buy a better set of materials, and to be honest, you're aware of how unkindly people would treat you if you bring something a little more pricey. There were students who were already picking on you for the fact that you just kept drawing and being a lazy bun, if they saw you with things that clearly looked (even a little bit) expensive you would never hear the end of it.

You remember seeing a poor girl (I mean literally) who had saved her money to buy a new pair of shoes, since her's were clearly old and tearing apart. Her tenacity was something really admirable, as she saved more than enough money to buy something actually good for her. Something she probably didn't seem to be accustomed with, as her reaction to getting her new shoes destroyed in front of her own eyes was absolutely heartbreaking.

Chills still run down your spine, as you remember one boy saying something like-

"- It's her own fault. She shouldn't have come to this place wearing that."

You really hate this place, the only shine of light though was what you heard another boy say.

"- Yeah, it sure is a poor girls' fault that a bunch of imbeciles are jealous of her accomplishments." That sarcastic tone was more than enough to get your attention, looking at the direction of the voices talking you saw the two boys that were talking.

One was clearly discomfortable with the situation, like he just said something stupid and is trying to not sound as bad as it was, and the other one who was not even looking at the asshole beside him, and oddly enough, he wasn't looking at the situation happening in front of everyone anymore. He felt like someone was looking at him, and coincidentally, there you were.

Of course, he looked at you like he would simply get up and beat the shit out of you for staring at him, he thought you had a problem with him, and he wouldn't mind starting a problem with you if that were the case.

The cold look was enough to send you the message, and not wanting to cause any trouble, you just moved your attention to somewhere else, ya know, like the girl suffering in the middle of the school's hall, maybe you shouldn't have looked at him for so long.

I guess you were just, caught up in his features?

Okay, maybe you have a problem now. You can't help but keep drawing him! Like, okay, you thought that maybe just one sketch would be fine. He has a lot of nice facial features and- and he is always with a closed expression. No emotions, just pure angst. You found yourself liking to draw him, and when you noticed, you had enough material to cover two pages. Two fucking pages filled with a boy don't even know!!

[Y/N], come on, get to your senses. You heard about the boy, he is one of the many delinquents running this place, if not the leader of one of the most influential gangs around this hellhole. Jack, was it?

Imagine having that guy and his gang come beat you up for being extremely nosy and drawing him so many times? You want to know what's worse though? One of these sketches were from a specific moment you saw this man without his jacket on, his shirt being see through and almost non-existent.

You need to burn all of them. Immediately. Or otherwise your school year will go from manageable to completely fucked. But some of these make great art studies tho-

"- Yo. I need to talk with you." Oh dear lord, your time has come.

"- S-Sup!" You try to hide the sketchbook before he notices some interesting depictions of himself. But honestly, it was too late boo, he already knew about it.

"- Mayday told me you've been stalking me." Jack said, not sounding even a little bit concerned about being "stalked".

You don't really know who is "Mayday", unless she is one of his gang's members. Actually, you may have a guess on who she is. You think you saw some girl giving you odd looks here and there, not really mean looks, but just "concerned looks", and now that you think about it, you saw her walking around with Jack.

Wait, was she the girl that got her shoes destroyed that day?

"- Oi! Aren't you going to say what the fuck is your problem?" While you were thinking about who that girl was, Jack took the opportunity to come closer and snatch your sketchbook.

"- Give me that. You better answer me or you won't see this until then." Jack had started to open the sketchbook up, to his absolute luck and to your demise, he opened up on that exact page.

"- Wait! Hold on, don't open it!-"

Too late though. His face said everything.

"- Woah. Interesting." Jack knows absolutely nothing about art and drawing and stuff like that. Yeah, he may know a couple of things about writing but, it's completely different to him. He is impressed with how talented you are.

That's so quite flattering details you managed to put in there, does he really look like that to you?

"- This is your work right? Is this why you kept staring at me?" He asks you, but honestly, what would answer? This guy has a whole group of people that can easily hurt you, so telling the truth can both free you and damn you.

"- Yeah, I did all of these… I'm sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you, well, I mea- I'm sorry if it made you feel awkward, I just thought you were a interesting model I guess?" There is no imaginable way of saying this without sounding like an stalker, right? God, this is so embarrassing…

Jack is absolutely flattered by this. Oh, yeah, it's creepy as fuck, love. But does he really care? I mean, dearest, do you really know him?

Mayday wasn't the first one to notice you staring, of course he felt someone drooling over him. It facinates him how ever since that day you kept being more prominent in his life, or rather, in his mind, as he never really made a move to physically interact with you.

He is surprised by how his acting skills have improved, he thought that he wouldn't find a way to convince you of his surprise when noticing your drawings for the "first time". Throughout this whole time he has thinking about you, is funny to see that in a way you were also thinking about him. Well, partially, you probably saw him as only a way to improve your art.

And honestly, he doesn't mind being your muse.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #sheep's stuff #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc headcanons #yandere delinquent x male reader #yandere delinquent #yandere delinquent x reader #yandere delinquent oc #special delivery request #special delivery headcanons

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fairefolked · 5 years

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hi frends it me ur local piece of trash

welcome to pickett's bc. i've seen this challenge at least six thousand times in the last few months and i've always wanted to do it, but have been to chicken to try. since my computer broke though i obviously have very little left in my game, so i thought why the heck not? it's a way for me to start interacting w people bc i'm a loner and also to build a new world with new unique characters i can include in future stories i love other people's sims more than my own ehehehe

some rules.

i’ll probably accept 10 or 12 sims

as per usual the rule stands at one sim per person

no occults pls

pickett is pan so boys, girls, trans and non-binary are welcome

my game is maxis-mix, but if you could keep hair and genetics maxis match that would be fantastic pls and thank

please include at least one or two outfits in each category

please also give ur sim a little bit of a backstory or write some facts about them

and write down what they’re looking for from the bachelorette challenge and why they think they would be perf for bb pickett

once you’ve submitted your babies, pls tag pickettsbc so i can follow along

get to know pickett under the cut

about pickett

pickett groves | young adult | goofball, clumsy, good

born in windenburg, raised in brindleton bay. girl has lived on farms her whole life

currently lives in newcrest, but intends to move out to glimmerbrook once she’s achieved her dream.

personal aesthetic is a mix of cottage core/vintage/grunge. really easily influenced by some trends. including the one that convinces a person to own ten thousand plants.

has recently graduated culinary school and will woo everyone with her bomb af ratatouille. she adds a little bit of fresh butter to make it more creamy and she roasts the vegetables prior to cooking everything together. that’s a secret tho shh.

aspires to own her own restaurant. currently she’s sous chef for a michelin 2 star restaurant.

reads tarot cards every day so she knows how her day is going to go. she also has almanacs bc she’s really into predicting fate/destiny and all that jazz

used to be the fat redheaded kid in school. proved her bullies wrong by losing hella weight and becoming successful. needs arm candy for the ten year reunion to hit the trifecta. she’s still v self conscious though and often doubts herself.

genuinely loves nothing more than rainy days cuddled up with a book and a hot cup of herbal tea. otherwise she’ll be outside jumping in the puddles and making a mess bc she loves that too.

ideal date is a picnic in the middle of a forest in autumn where time is spent getting to know the other person. she’ll cook the food if the other person brings music and book recommendations.

aggressively does not know how to stand on two feet without falling over though. has broken toes too many times to count and has scars all over the shop from odd little accidents.

fav animal are cats. desperately wants her own, but she’s allergic so life sucks for pickett at the moment.

has a bit of a vindictive streak. if someone does something she doesn’t agree with or if someone hurts a person she cares about, she won’t ever let it go.

fave movies are also horror movies but they gotta be good, they can’t be predictable or she won’t make it 10 minutes in.

deadline is 20th january 2020. make sure you tag pickettsbc and also wistfulsim so i can keep up

#ts4 #s4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 bachelorette challenge #ts4 bachelorette challenge #sims 4 bc #ts4 bc #pickettsbc #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 gameplay #bachelorette challenge #*pickett #ehhhhh here it is #it's probs late #and no one's probs online #but i love her and i want to get it started #if i've missed smth let me know

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ohh-baekhyun · 6 years

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Just For One Night [M]

✨Foreword: Baekhyun has always been carefully platonic in his interactions with his best friend’s little sister. He resolved to keep her at arm’s length despite his attraction towards her. But one night, one kiss changes everything.

✨Genre: romance, smut (vanilla-ish), fluff.

✨A/N: As promised :,) This was written back in 2018, a few months before I started Hot Deal. And seeing that its Valentine’s week, I decided to share it hehe Not necessarily my best work but not my worst either. Hopefully you’re not too sick of my writing :,)

It was a friday night and I was planning to spend the evening out with my girlfriends, instead, I found myself in the cab heading to Baekhyun's apartment. My brother had just relayed the news over the phone that Baekhyun had gotten into a fight with my ex. Hearing that, I’d stormed out of the house not minding that I was only wearing a camisole and shorts in this cold winter night.

I needed to make sure Baekhyun was okay. It was unlike him. He wasn't a violent person. Although he could appear rather intimidating at times, and he had scared away a few of my bullies at school, I'd never seen him gotten physical with someone before. I made a mental note to reprimand him and of course, to thank him. Even though I wasn’t one to condone violence, I had to admit I was glad Baekhyun stood up for me. He always did.

The past few days hadn't been easy for me. I was betrayed by the man I'd dated for six months. He was my colleague. Kind, sweet, smart, he was everything a woman could ever ask for. And, this was by far the longest relationship I'd ever had with a guy. I thought we would work out. I had a hope. But last week, that hope was shattered when I caught him sleeping with another girl in my apartment. In addition to that, I’d also discovered that he had been using my card to pay his bills. I've never felt so utterly stupid in my life before. Although I wasn't in love with him, the six months history between us still meant something. At least to me.

Once the cab pulled up at the lobby of Baekhyun's apartment, I paid the driver before hopping out of the vehicle. The night breeze blew against my bare skin and I shivered as I hurried into the building. Once I reached the intercom panel at the lift, I punched the unit number to his flat and waited for him to answer.

He picked up after the fourth ring. “Hello?"

His low voice slid into my ears and it was making my stomach flipped. I breathed before answering, “Hey, it's me. Can I come up?"

"Sure.”

Baekhyun hung up and a second later, the elevator’s door slid open for me to enter. My heart was pounding as the lift took me up to his floor, and I was fidgeting. It’s funny how we’ve known each other for a lifetime yet every time I knew I’d be meeting him, it felt like going on a first date.

Truth be told, I'd been in love with Baekhyun for a long time now. All these while I'd been successful in keeping my feelings at bay as I wouldn’t want to put our friendship in jeopardy. I’d tried dating a few guys in a bid to get over him. Well, it didn't work. In my eyes, every other guy pale in comparison to him.

When the lift opened, my eyes instantly locked with Baekhyun’s. Those familiar butterflies in my stomach came to life. The male was leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossing over his chest. He wore a black hi-neck sweater with a pair of jeans, his hair damp and bedraggled from the shower he probably just took, which made him look a thousand times hotter that he already is.

"Hey, sweetheart.” Baekhyun greeted as he casually pushed himself off the door jamb.

“Hey.” I smiled, sauntering to where he stood. I noticed his eyes drifting down the length of my body, surreptitiously checking me out as I approached.

Awareness of what I was presently wearing caused a faint blush to rise on my cheek. Despite the evidence that Baekhyun checked me out sometimes, I couldn’t recall if he had ever seen me in an outfit that showed so much skin before.

“I was rushing to get here. I hope you don’t mind.” I smiled meekly, trying to dispel the sudden tension between us.

“Not at all.” He assured, looking at me now. “What brings you here?”

At the reminder, my eyes immediately scanned his face to search for any injury. Thankfully there was none. “Are you okay?” I asked nonetheless.

Baekhyun hummed. ”Let's go inside.” He invited, holding the door open for me. I stepped inside and he placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me into his apartment to the L-shaped sofa at the center of the spacious living hall.

As always, my eyes wandered appreciatively over the settings of his flat. My favourite was the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that covered one side of the wall. Smiling as I walked, I stared out through the window and gaze at the breathtaking night view of the city.

"Is wine alright? Or do I need something stronger? Because I sense a lecture coming," he said, smiling teasingly at me.

I returned his smile. "Wine is good," I said as I settled myself comfortably on his couch.

Baekhyun wandered into the kitchen and returned to the living hall holding two glasses of wine. "Here," he said, handing me one before taking a seat on the couch next to me.

I noticed the bruise on his knuckles as we each took a sip of our wine. Guilt washed over me because after all, this wouldn’t happen if it wasn’t for me. "Is your hand okay?" I asked, setting the glassware down on the side table.

Baekhyun tilted his glass, finishing his drink in one gulp. "It's fine." he said somewhat gruffly as he put his glass away next to mine.

I scooted closer, our thigh brushing as I reached for his hand and lifted it up to my inspection. His knuckles were swollen and I found a small cut in the middle one. Judging from the bruises, he must have hit him hard. I began to worry if he left him conscious.

I looked up from his hand with a frown on my face. “Was he hurt badly?”

The male narrowed his eyes at me. “Why the hell do you care?” he sounded somewhat upset about it and I think I know why.

“Baekhyun,” I sighed. “It’s not him that I’m worried about. It’s you. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

His eyes grew soft now that he understood my true concern. “Don’t worry about it,. Chanyeol and I know how to handle it.”

I didn’t have to ask how they handled it. Just knowing that Baekhyun would be alright eased me completely. “Thank you,” I looked into his eyes solemnly. “for always standing up for me.”

He shook his head mildly. “Baby, I’ll do it again if I have to.”

I blushed at the endearment. Baekhyun had never call me baby before and as much as I’d like to think that it was a slip of the tongue, I can’t. My heart was beating so hard, so fast.

“How are you, really?” he asked as he studied my face. The concern in his eyes told me he was still worried about how I dealt with the break-up.

I blew away a weary sigh and sagged back into the couch. “I feel so stupid.”

Baekhyun frowned, showing his disagreement. “No. You are not.”

“I am.” I insisted. “I am an idiot for trusting him so easily.”

He shifted closer and placed his hand over mine, brushing his thumb over my wrist comfortingly. “You only see the good in others. That’s not stupid, that’s kind. It’s one of the many things that makes you special. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Thank you.” I murmured as I dropped my gaze, staring down at our hands to hide my blushing cheek.

He cupped the side of my face in his hand, gently tilting my head up. He stared straight into my eyes, and it was getting hard for me to breath. “Someday, that bastard is going to look back and realize how lucky he was to have you and he’s going to regret what he did.”

Touched and stunned all at the same time, I stared at him with wonder in my eyes. “How do you always know all the right things to say?”

“Because I’m only saying the truth.” He smiled tenderly. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

As he finished, the air between us thickened by ten-fold. We sat there looking anywhere but each other. The tension was so intense, it felt almost tangible. What happened next was inexplicable. Almost like a magnet pulling me to him, my body moved to straddle his lap. I saw his eyes widening in surprise before I cupped each side of his face and bravely leaned forward to press our lips together.

For a moment, Baekhyun stiffened beneath my kiss. My heart was slamming hard against my ribcage and I was bracing myself, ready to be pushed away. But seconds later, I felt his hands on my waist, drawing me closer to him as he took control of the kiss.

I sighed into his mouth. He tasted of wine, heat and him. The kiss went from fervent to ferocious in a split second. His tongue darting and tangling against mine as he explored every inch of my mouth. And then he started biting my lower lips, not enough to hurt me but just enough to make me moan in pleasure. It was just a kiss, but my body was tingling all over.

Baekhyun groaned against my lips and his strong hands moved to my hips, pushing me down on his lap, his erection rubbing against my womanhood. I moaned, feeling a rush of heat in between my legs. Needing more, I gripped on his shoulders and sank deeper into him.

“God, baby.” he hissed as I grind harder against him.

Then, I didn’t know where the reminder come from. It appeared like a car crash, shocking me so much I pushed him away. “We-we can’t, this is wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed, looking so crestfallen and that it tugged painfully at my heart.

“I’m sorry.” I said as I slid off the couch. “I’m really sorry.” I apologize once again before turning away and left.

My legs felt unsteady but I managed to make it to the door, reached for the handle and pulled it open. But that’s the furthest I could get. As I was about to step out, a hand came over my shoulder to push the door close again. I gasped, my shoulders flinching in surprise.

“Stay.” he whispered behind me, warm breath brushing over my ear. “Please don’t leave.”

I chew on my lips and stared silently at Baekhyun’s hand, not knowing what to say or do. I heard his sigh before he placed a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him. My back hit the wall, and I glanced up, feeling so small now that he was crowding me. He searched into my eyes with a longing that mirrored mine, and more tenderly than I ever imagined he was capable of, he reached up to brush a fallen hair away from my face.

“I know this is wrong, I know I shouldn’t be attracted to you like this,” he murmured. “but right now I can’t think of anything else but you.”

My heart nearly exploded. “Baekhyun, I...” I breathed, my chest rising and falling with each shaky breath that I took.

Baekhyun lowered his head, his nose brushing along mine and his mouth rested inches away from my lips. “Tell me you want this too.” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“I do, but you are my best friend, Baekhyun, and I don’t want this to–”

“Just for one night,” He said, cutting my speech. “can you forget about everything and let me have you all to myself?”

There was so much to risk here, but my need for him was so strong it obliviates any rational senses. Thus as he closed the distance between us, I didn’t push him away. Instead, I slid my fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer to seal our lips together. He groaned into the kiss, his own hands sliding down my ass and he gave it a squeeze before lifting me up. I wrapped my leg around his waist and moaned as sank his teeth down my lower lip. He had one arm around my back while his other hand gripping the nape of my neck, holding me into the kiss.

His mouth never left mine even as he moved me back to the sitting area and settled me on the arm of the sofa. His strong hand gripped on my thigh and he pushed my legs apart. I gasped. He slid my shorts down my legs, and my panties was next to be discarded, leaving me naked from my waist down.

“I think about you for every damn second of the day.” He whispered over my lips while his hand trailed its way up my inner thigh.

My cheek flushed and I nodded shyly. At this point, I would jump off the cliff if he asked me to. I was so hot and bothered for him I couldn’t think of anything else but his fingers…….touching me there.

His lips made its way to my ear, tugging my earlobe between his teeth. “You are so beautiful, it hurts to look at you but not touch you.” he mused with his hand sliding closer to where I wanted it to be.

I held my breath in anticipation, feeling the needy ache inside me growing by leaps.

When he brushed his knuckles over my slit, making me shiver and moaned. “You’re so wet, baby.” he hissed into my ear.

“B-Baekhyun,” I panted, wanting more. He groaned into my ears, running his thumb up and down my clit in a torturing manner. I buried my face into his neck and bit down on him. “Please, more.” I whined desperately.

His lips traveled its way to my lips, kissing me hungrily while his finger continued to tease my pussy.

“Please what?” he growled, resting his forehead against mine. “Tell me what you want.”

“I...I want your fingers, inside me.”

“Gladly.” he said, wasting no time to push two fingers into me.

I gasped as his digits filled me, and moaned as he thrust them in and out of me. My eyes fluttering close and I grabbed onto his biceps tightly.

“Open your eyes.” Baekhyun said, stopping to pull out all of a sudden.

I peeled my lids open and stared into his smoldering gaze. Another gasp fell from my mouth when Baekhyun thrust two digits deeper into my pussy, fucking me with his fingers again. I couldn’t stop whimpering. Baekhyun seemed to like it since he was fucking me faster and harder now. Soon, I felt tension tightening in my core. I was close to cumming.

“Let me see you come around my fingers.” He whispered hoarsely with his fingers sliding in and out of me. His own breathing grew erratic as he watched me edging closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, and when he pressed his thumb on my clit, my hips jerked wildly and I broke apart crying for his name.

“Fuck baby, you are squeezing my finger so tightly,” He groaned into my ear. “I almost came just watching you.”

My legs trembled and I was struggling to catch my breath. The wetness he had caused was dampening my thigh and I was sure it must’ve stained the couch. I had yet to come down from my high when a loud clap of thunder echoed across the room. The light went out all of a sudden, leaving the room dim with just the city lights illuminating the living room through the window.

Baekhyun muttered a curse under his breath and he brought his head around, “Stay here.”

I gripped a fistful of his shirt before he managed to turn away, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to check the circuit breakers.” He said before moving away from the couch and left.

A flash of lightning lit up the darkness, and a thunder boomed causing my shoulders to jump. Frightened to be left alone in the dark, I bent down and slipped on my panties and shorts. “Wait for me,” I was about to go after him, but as I slid off the arm of the sofa, my legs were too weak to support my body and I ended falling limp on the ground.

Hearing my cries, Baekhyun halted and swiveled around. The moment he saw me on the floor, he strode back to my direction. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he knelt on one knee in front of me.

“I think I’ve got a leg cramp.” I said as my hand clamped around my thigh.

Baekhyun reacted with a deep chuckle, then he scooted me up in his arm effortlessly. After placing me down on the couch, he sat by my side. “Which one?” he asked

I pointed to the back of my right thigh. “Here.”

He coasted his hand up my leg in search for the cramped muscle. “ I hissed as he began massaging it for me until the pain eased. And all along, he was smirking oh so smugly to himself.

I knew what he was thinking. My cheek heat up with embarassment. Getting a cramp during sex wasn’t sexy at all. “Don’t make fun of me.” I huffed. “It’s all your fault.”

“I’ve only fucked your with my fingers, babe. You have yet to feel my cock inside you.” He muttered casually.

I was struck mute and admittedly, my imagination transcended beyond wild. I don’t get why but it was such a turn on when he spoke so bluntly about sex like that.

A second after, the light went on again. Our heated eyes clung and Baekhyun wasted no time to haul me to him and carried me up in his arms. A small squeal escaped and I circled my arm around his neck. “Where are we going?” I asked as he carried me with him.

“My bed.” was all he said then he kissed me again, senselessly like he couldn't get enough of my lips.

My heart rate escalated. This was everything I’d been waiting for, and now that it was happening, I was honestly nervous about it. Perhaps because this was my first time having sex with someone I had feelings for. Someone I loved.

The kiss was so drugging I hadn’t realised Baekhyun had moved us to his bedroom until my back landed on the soft surface of his bed. I opened my eyes and found myself lying beneath him as he hovered over me. We were both panting heavily.

“I want to see you.” He leaned down to kiss my forehead. “All of you.”

I looked deep into his eyes before mustering the courage to whisper. “Will you undress me?"

Baekhyun hummed, then his hand moved to the hem of my camisole, gently pulling it up over my head. He took his sweet time to peel every piece of garment off my body. And soon, I was naked beneath him.

“Baby,” He breathed, searching my eyes before casting his fervent gaze down my body. He sucked in a sharp breathe. There wasn’t a part of me that he didn’t take in, and every part his eyes touched tingled with desire. He stared into my eyes again, “I was right when I said any man would be so lucky to have you.”

I bit my lower lip in a shy smile. This man had such an alluring way with words and if I wasn’t already in love, I’d fall for him so easily.

“Do you have any idea how many fantasies I’ve had about you?” He asked, wickedly smiling down at me.

Something about his confession made my stomach flipped. I drew in a breath. “Tell me about it.” I said, my voice trembled.

A dark glint flashed in his eyes. “I prefer showing you.”

And then he started undressing himself. My breathing was all over the place now as I watched him he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away. Then, he shimmied off his briefs and his jeans. I gasped at the sight of his hard-on. He had a smirk on his lips when he caught my reaction.

I felt that roller-coaster in the pit of my stomach when Baekhyun leaned down, to brush his lips over mine. The kiss didn’t last long as his lips slowly descended to the side of my neck. I tilted my head invitingly with a sigh, allowing him more access to pepper butterfly dust kisses on my burning skin.

A pleased sigh fell from my lips, and my back arched with the subtle brush of his tongue on my breast. Taking his sweet time, he tormented me with licks and kisses around my nipple. I whined softly, writhing and begging for more. So he gave me what I wanted, pulling my tight nipple between his teeth, sucking it. My moans turned so lewd I almost can’t recognize my voice.

Baekhyun granted equal attention to my other breast, sucking and licking it was swollen, until I grew more desperate for him.

Then his lips were moving south, one hand toying with my breast and the other caressing my inner thigh. My legs fell open instinctively and he grunted in satisfaction. “You’re beautiful here too.”

Heat suffused my cheek and I was suddenly feeling so exposed, so vulnerable. He raised his head and took a moment to gaze at me, his eyes filled with affection, heat, and hunger. “I’ve been wanting this for a long long time.”

He dipped his head again, this time trailing soft kisses down my stomach until his head rested between my legs and he licked me there.

“Oh God.” I moaned softly, my palm clenching tightly into the bed sheet. He lifted his gaze to watch me as he continued toying my clit with his skillful tongue. Each stroke elicited a sultry moan from me and it wasn’t long until my second orgasm came crashing.

Baekhyun straightened his back and leaned down to kiss me sweetly. I wrapped my arms around his back and clutched his hips with my legs, drawing him closer to me.

“Are you on the pill?” He whispered his question against my lips. I nodded jerkily, and with that he positioned his cock to my entrance before pushing into me. I tensed against him, my forehead creased as the burn of pain I hadn’t expected hit me. He was so big, and he wasn’t even halfway inside yet.

Sensing my discomfort, Baekhyun paused and he casted me a worried look, “Does it hurt?”

“Just a little.”

His gaze softened on me. “I’ll be gentle.” he murmured, pushing a strand of hair back and his head dipped to press a tender kiss on my shoulder. He continued to whisper sweet words into my ears, warming me up with his voice until the pain ebbed away. No man had ever been so careful, so gentle with me before.

"I'm going to move now, baby," He whispered. "can't wait any longer."

I inhaled a breath with my eyes closed, expecting another sharp pain to strike as he pushed his length deeper into me. But this time, there’s none. Only pleasure. Sweet, sweet pleasure. I opened my eyes, and our eyes locked as he pushed his length in and out of me. There was an ineffable connection in there, and I wished we could stay like this forever. I love you was right on the tip of my tongue but I held my tongue. He might not feel the same way. And this was a one time thing.

Just for one night.

A sharp, burning ache spread across my chest at the reminder, causing sad tears to burn beneath my lids. Baekhyun searched into my eyes. And as if sensing the change in my emotion, he kissed me again. More desperately than before. His hips began to move in slow rhythm, thrusting all the way in before pulling back and then pushing in again. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and made lewd whimpering sounds as my muscle clenched around his thick length.

His jaw clenched and he moaned through gritted teeth. “Baby, you feel so good.”

I pushed my hips forward into him, and my thighs clutching around him tighter, needing to feel more of him. “Harder Baekhyun, please.” I begged.

He made a low grunting sound in the back of his throat, pushed me down on my back and slammed into me, each thrust deeper and harder than one before.

I cried out, feeling the tension built up inside of me. “I…I’m close.”

He pinned me down and stared into my eyes. “Come for me,” he demanded as he continued to slam into me, his speed accelerated, driving me closer and closer to the finale, “Come for me, baby.”

And with one last thrust, I gave him what he wanted, moaning his name as my body shuddered with an earth-shattering orgasm; one I’d never experienced before. Baekhyun followed seconds later, groaning and jerking fiercely as he unload his cum inside me. He let go of my hands and his body collapsed on top of me, panting heavily against my neck.

The sound of our laboured breathing were the only sound that filled the living room for the next sixty seconds. My mind was still floating in my post-orgasmic realm, and I was too languid to even form a word. Baekhyun lifted his face from my neck to look at me. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“More than okay.” I assured him with a smile.

He brushed his knuckles over my cheek, a fond smile touching his lips as he gazed down at me. “Stay with me tonight.”

I didn’t think twice to say yes because there’s nothing that I wanted more.

To Be Continued

A/N: Good news is, you don’t have to wait too long for the next part because I’ve finished writing the whole thing hehehe I’Il relay the other news after uploading the last chapter! Hope you enjoyed this story and didn’t cringe too much :D

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun romance #baekhyun ff #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x oc #baekhyun x you #byun baekhyun #EXO baekhyun #exo fanfictions #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun drabble #baekhyun #exo imagine

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sickandtideeeee · 5 years

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By Bast - Chapter 12 (Erik x Reader)

A/N: the nice side effect of graduating is that I’m bored and can crank out a chapter in a day and a half apparently when before it took me like literal months to craft a few pages

Anyway, please talk to me i love interaction. Otherwise I’m just screaming into the abyss lmao

“How do you not have a dress picked out?!” Asha nearly shrieked, running her hands through your wardrobe.

You shot her a dirty look as if to ask ‘Really?’ She scrunched up her face in retort.

“Just two weeks ago the whole country taught King T’Challa was dead, so is it really shocking that maybe it slipped my mind that his birthday feast would still happen?”

“I mean you live in the inner palace. You would have had to have known!” She insisted, shooting a glance at Amina, who leaned against the wall of your bedroom, picking her fingernails. Amina continued to look disinterested, denying Asha the support she was looking for.

“I have a lot on my mind.” A truth.

“More important than the King?”

Amina’s sharp look at you screamed ‘Don’t answer that.’ You artfully dodged the question, by turning your attention to one of the many dresses your friend had laid on the bed for you.

“What do you think about this one?” The dress you smoothed across your front now was a flowing maxi dress in purple, red and orange-toned ankara print. The sweetheart neckline left your arms and shoulders bare, but they would be covered by draping a soft matching scarf. Suitable enough for a priestess.

“That’s the first one I grabbed.” Asha said, a little suspicious but delighted once you tried it on completely and twirled around once. Amina’s eyes lit up and you beamed back at her. You did feel pretty. All that was left would be to tame your coils. You decided on a goddess halo braid for the soiree. You had a few hours until the dinner party would begin.

For someone as poised as T’Challa, he had a knack for extravagance when he felt like it. Opulence was only one of the words that described the theme of the venue that night. Stepping into the birthday feast hall felt like trespassing the grounds of heaven itself. Warm lights shone from above, illuminating gold and marble fixtures as well as floral arrangements of lilies and orchids that were the size of a middle school child.

Rows and rows of lavishly decorated tables filled a room the size of a football field, piled high with cured meats, spiced stews, seasoned starchy side dishes, and enough fruit and desserts to land someone in an instant diabetic coma. Accoutrements were as loud and jovial as the people themselves, with your own floor-length dress paling in comparison to many of the tribe princesses’ dresses. Nakia herself sported a shimmering forest-green mermaid dress with golden highlights and a plunging neckline that warranted a second look from most, if not all, men in attendance. She stayed close to T’Challa who wore a classic brown tunic but of a material fine enough that you could almost smell the royalty from a distance. They sat at the table of honor, flanked by Queen Ramonda whose regal smile was almost oppressive in its sincerity, and Shuri who appeared frankly nauseated by the amount of boo loving she’d have to watch close up.

Idly stuffing your face with meat pies, you sat at the first table from theirs on the right side, pretending to be fascinated by one of the stone centerpieces. Live drum music played as a vibrant backdrop to the evening.

You had just fulfilled your one and only duty in leading the ceremonial prayer for longevity and blessing before everyone could partake in the meal. Now, it was best to keep a low profile. After T’Challa called you out personally just yesterday, you did not want to invite any unwanted conversation or attention. You found yourself scanning the sea of guests for N’Jadaka as if it were not obvious why he wasn’t present. Even more unsettling was the fact that during T’Challa’s speech, he was reduced to one of the many “challenges” that he had gone through in the past year.

Once all guests had been served their fill of food and fun, Nakia led an exquisite performance of a war dance. Thereafter, the rest of the guests were invited to dance. At this time, T’Challa was now surrounded by a circle of his elder advisors, who praised him on another year of age and a successful reign so far. Since you had declined joining the dance floor, you couldn’t help but quietly listen in while you attacked a scoop of imported cardamom ice cream.

“When do you plan to execute the traitor?”

Your spoon clattered as it dropped, but the sound was quickly drowned out by the crowd. The cold dessert slid down your throat unimpeded, causing you to choke softly.

So Erik wasn’t just talking…

You could see T’Challa answering, his expression betraying discomfort, but you had trouble reading his lips from your vantage point. Only bits and pieces of conversation came through as you tried to tune out the rest of the event.

“The longer he sits in that cell, the more likely you will have a change of heart.”

“Of course he cannot be changed, why would you even suggest something of the sort?”

“He has disgraced the royal family, has he not?”

“There is already intel leaving the palace suggesting that you have kept him prisoner because you are afraid to kill him.”

“Who cares if he is part of the royal family? He lost.”

The elders now began to talk over each other, rendering the rest of the conversation unintelligible.

It did not help that a stranger now blocked your view, introducing himself as head counsel to the merchant elder. You politely introduced yourself, smiling weakly. The young man, not getting the hint, began to chat you up. Trying to keep focus on T’Challa and his advisors, you circumvented questions like who did you come with, how were you liking the party, and were you interested in dancing?

In the meantime, the elders eventually dispersed, leaving T’Challa seated back at his head table alone with a grave look on his face. T’Challa’s expressions were as difficult to read as usual. How you wanted to question him on whatever decision he had just made, but on what pretext could you do it safelyl? As it was, you had already crossed a line with him.

No longer could you find any happiness in all this noise. It was past time for you to retreat in your quarter. The young man who had invited himself into the seat next to you finally realized that you had stopped listening.

“Are you mad? Do you not hear me talking?”

“I’m very sorry but I think I must leave now.” You replied, rising abruptly to your feet. You attempted to leave, but either your quick movement or your new male friend’s spite had resulted in the fabric of your long dress getting caught out. A large rippp sounded in the air, quickly smothered by music and voices, right before you tripped and toppled to the ground.

The man behind you made an audible ‘tch’ sound as you hit the floor hard on your face. Gathering the rest of your dress in your arms, you ignored the throbbing pain in your cheek. Yup, you had definitely enough of this party.

Before you could rise and give this stranger the tongue-lashing of his life, T’Challa was already by your side to help you up by the arm.

“Disappear.” You heard him say to your slighted suitor. “Are you alright?” T’Challa’s voice lost its edge as he turned his attention to you.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, embarrassed. Touching the pain on your cheek made you wince, it was sure to swell. You pulled your arm away harsher than you intended, and made your way out of the feast hall. To your dismay, the king followed suit.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” T’Challa said, louder now that you were out of the public view. In one of the corridors, you gave him a confused look. You could tell he was not just asking about your face.

“Yes…?” You insisted. Knowing he would not leave you alone until he heard a more satisfying answer, you added: “I was just a bit clumsier than usual.” You smiled widely, albeit a bit insincerely.

“I hope your party is to your liking! I know you had a hard year so it must be nice to relax and enjoy for once, is it not?” Maybe you were laying it on a little bit too thick. T��Challa raised an eyebrow and then let out an exasperated sigh.

“When will this stop?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said.

He sighed again loudly, then waved you away. “The good thing is that this will be over soon.” This last part was flippant. “Thank you for attending. I will see you around later.”

This will be over soon.

Is that how casually he was going to talk about ending a life?

“Kunkani.”

This time you were stopping him in his tracks. He turned his head to give you a curious look, taken aback by the sudden steel in your voice.

“What have you decided?” You queried.

He knew what you were talking about, and this angered him. It was his birthday, for goodness’ sake.

“I don’t need to discuss that with you.” He dismissed.

“What. Have. You. Decided?” You repeated again slowly. Your shoulders squared, and your chin lifted. You were trying so hard to portray strength. It would be almost laughable to someone like him, if not so infuriating.

This time T’Challa was visibly upset. He walked to you until he was mere inches away, and you could feel yourself wanting to shrink but decided to stand your ground.

Stand mighty. Hold your king accountable.

“You’re serious?” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening.

Yes, you are serious.

“I have to know. As someone who is tasked to guide you spiritually in the future. As the daughter of Zuri.”

He gave a laugh that was somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“When did you become so bold?” He asked, patting your head lightly. “From a girl so timid she could be bullied by a child half her age to challenging your king?”

When you’d been presented to the former King, Queen and son you had been about eleven years old, with no recollection of your life before then. T’Challa had looked at you curiously from afar in that time, and he continued to look at you that way even now. You were an amnesiac that his father had asked him to be gentle with. You later became his sister’s quiet peer mentor and companion. You were the high priest’s daughter. You were a girl whose brown skin reddened at his very smile, every time without fail. You were calm and serene. You were ever present but also blended in every room. You were somehow clumsy and elegant at once.

You never were this confrontational, this demanding. This was new.

T’Challa lowered his hand when your gaze remained fixed and unchanged. The patronizing gesture would not pacify you.

“Are you going to kill him?”

“My council has decided that he can’t be allowed to stay in prison.”

“So you will release him?”

No answer.

“You will exile him?”

No answer.

“You cannot kill him.” You warned. This interdiction apparently struck a nerve.

“I can do anything I want.” T’Challa quipped. “You seem to have trouble acknowledging who I am these days.”

“I know you can do anything you want to as the king of this nation. However, you are also tasked by Bast to be fair.” The muffled sound of distant music seemed to grow as loud as the distance between you at this moment. You had acknowledged this distance your whole life, a distance that T’Challa had rarely seemed to respect. However, today, for the first time it felt impassable, even for T’Challa.

“You are losing sight of your position in the palace. Perhaps I’ve been too kind to you.” T’Challa finally said, smoothing some imaginary wrinkles on his shirt. It was almost as if he were trying to smooth out his own behavior.

“Why would you save him if you planned to execute him anyway?”

T’Challa gave you an incredulous look. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“I’m going to leave now and we will pretend we never had this conversation.”

“There you are! What conversation?”

Nakia had suddenly arrived, her smile radiant but with eyes that betrayed concern. She linked an arm with T’Challa and nudged him slightly.

“I was wondering where you were,” she murmured, looking between him and then you. You bowed to her in greeting.

“I was just leaving,” you said, in a low voice. “Happy birthday, King T’Challa,” you said once more with a curtsy, before you parted ways. You could feel the stares burn holes in your backside as you walked away.

Tagging: @syndrlla97 @iwantsomethingeternal @1killmonger @chasingsunlight @hoopshoney @destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @lalasparkles @pessimisfit @youreadthatright @stark-red19 @ruruly20 @bossyboyd03 @autumn242 @heybriheyyy @thelovelyliterary @muse-of-mbaku @bidibidibombaclaat @supersizemeplz @romanceoftheeveryday@chaneajoyyy@lildashofmelanin

#erik x reader #erik killmonger x reader #killmonger x reader #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #by bast

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andysnorwayaffairs · 5 years

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Final Project

Pt 1; a perfect ending. feeling a rush of shared excitement - finally! just like me!

warmth, embraced, a queer kind of friendship. we sat in the grass and talked about how our lives were growing up, how our queerness was realized and how it affected the way we walk in the world. our stories are so similar yet so, so different. miles and miles of time away, you announce to your friends that you’re probably maybe gay. you start a spark in their minds, and soon after you’re deemed the trail blazer of coming out. you are brave, do you know it? you were the person who i wished for. so desperate for approval from others, and not meeting anyone like you, i took it upon myself to starve my queerness, the differentness, the part of me that i knew i could definitely be hated for. and i can’t stand the thought of being hated. and a part of me hated myself for who i was. i was taught that i couldn’t love like that, that it wasn’t *real*, that anything other than normal is impossible, wrong, destructive. so i listened, and i believed them. not completely, that is also true. that’s why i never stopped immersing myself in online queer culture, why i desperately searched for any sign of queerness in the online personas i followed and in the fiction that i read. we talked about this too, how we’d entrench ourselves in media and later realize that we were part of the group we were so obsessed with. finally... just like me

you opened your heart so quickly - your friends, they tell me that they’re so happy that you’ve met me. you open a window into your life and lend a hand to help me hop in. i see how you love others, and how they love you. we run through the lawn of a backyard riddled with ripe fruit and laugh like children at how sweet the juice is. we share a meal and spend hours talking about nothing and everything. i sometimes stop and listen to the chatter, and i feel complete warmth even when i cannot understand what is being said. we read the cards i brought and i learn how each of you sees love. i see the way you interact with your loved ones, the way you so deeply care to spend time with them. letting go, giggling in giddy joy, acting like absolute fools. finally, just like me

cried a farewell last night

thank you for offering me a bizarre, unfair amount of kindness

thank you for showing me a glimpse of your life, your entire world

thank you for extending a hand in friendship, in solidarity

thank you for being my friend

I feel like my time here, my glimpse into another person’s life, feels like a glimpse into an alternate timeline. A timeline in which I accepted myself from the beginning. A timeline in which I told a friend about my crush on Jen from Buzzfeed. A timeline when I refused to normalize myself, refused to uphold the boundaries that were unfairly placed on me. A timeline when I was brave. A timeline when I stopped being so damn scared. A timeline when I realized that my friends would still stay friends with me, and those who didn’t want to, I should let go of anyways. There will always be people who don’t match up with your values, your energies, your being. I won’t lie to myself and say that it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch, but it’s a hard fact of life that homophobes, transphobes, racists, xenophobes, ie bigots exist and there will be always be bullies and people who don’t care about you, who WANT to put you down, who want to hurt you. In a world of power, there will be those with some and those without. I was given a small window into my friend’s life and saw a life pathway built around friendships who learn and grow right alongside you. I’ve always thought about that – what if? What if I let go earlier? In my timeline, the forces around me were not as kind to me. I was told queerness was ugly, so utterly upside down. I didn’t have anyone to tell me otherwise. Perhaps if I had a positive role model to tell me that it WAS okay, that it was beautiful and wonderful. Perhaps if I had a friend like them in my life who was the first to come out and encouraged others by simply living their life the way THEY want to, perhaps I would have had the courage to do so earlier. I can’t change the past.

But I can think about how the events of my past shaped my present, and how my present shapes my future. Thank God - I DID let go! There’s no race to live your truth, but oh god it feels so good to do it NOW. I’m so thankful that I found the bravery these people I know now have embraced so many years ago. I feel like my own person, like an entire human soul. I don’t feel the need to please anyone. This queer experience, of finding yourself and maybe even fearing yourself, but, ultimately, coming to love yourself despite dominant society failing you, that is a queer experience. Regardless of any experience, something we all share is having to live in a world that ultimately does not accept us, does not want us.

An ode to knowing that although things are different here, and that there’s no possible way that I could have had a similar timeline just simply because of how different our spheres and worlds are... despite this, despite the fear and self hate and internal violence I was forced into because of the life I was born into, despite all of this, I was still able to find myself and love myself and find others who love me for my whole humanness.

There’s a lot of work to be done in the world, for our lives and our safety and our happiness. I think the friends I’ve met here are doing that work. Through their love for each other and thus their refusal to conform, to stay quiet, to accept the norms in place.

Meeting this special friend may have been completely chance, but I believe fate had a little bit to do with it too. To give me this window, to let me see what beauty it is to allow a person to be themselves. The sooner, the better.

____ DISCUSSION

Pt 3:

It’s funny to see how these ppl’s reflections of their lives fit in line with exactly what we discussed through our readings and class discussions. Norway may be progressive in law, but not necessarily in practice. Each of the queer people I asked this about, or asked them to speak about their queer experience, expressed frustration at there not being much of a strong queer community here, and how they still experienced everyday oppression (you may call these micro aggressions).

Nordic model of inclusion + welfare, making this a space where it is looked down upon to discriminate for someone’s sexuality

A different relationship to Christianity

In the U.S., I grew up in a heavily queerphobic, heavily strict and monitored environment where I was even monitoring myself, reprimanding myself for all of the gay content I was consuming but allowing myself to keep doing it because I was “outside” of the community and thus could not be associated with it or have to think of the consequences.

In middle school I was fully aware that I had strong crushes on gay female celebrities but was petrified of sharing that information with anyone.

I shut myself down immediately, but continued to consume gay, lgbt, and trans media for years and years after, allowing myself to do this because I could convince myself that I was just “a straight girl” who was a big fan of the community.

After coming to college and experiencing true freedom from the expectations and values placed on me, it took me less than three days to come to the realization that I was in fact, extremely not straight. It took me 6 more months to fully feel comfortable admitting to myself and claiming the label that I was gay. It took me another year to “come out” to all of my friends and folx I really cared about.

-talk about how this is a divide between my experience and the experiences of the friends I made here. L & their friends came out when they were extremely young, in middle school actually. Our timelines diverge here.

Only recently, I began to make friends on the shared experience of our queerness. Meeting my close friends now, sharing intimate + tender moments. Loving each other and supporting one another the way family might do. A queer kind of love shared in these emotional bonds. A kind of love I had not experienced before my full acceptance and life as a queer person. Tender, radical love.

Meeting L, sharing on our experience of being queer and trans. And not to say that their life in Norway is so much better. The Nordic model may allow for some general acceptance, but queerphobia still has its roots in other malicious ways. Many of L’s friends still don’t use their pronouns. A is called the slur version of the word lesbian, and she recognizes that being a lesbian is not favorable to society. She wants to be a prof of gender studies at her uni but told me that since there is already one queer person on staff, she’ll never be hired on.

M telling me about how even tho queer ppl are accepted on the outside, and in the law, in practice, not so much.

-A telling me that people hate lesbians

-in Norwegian, the word for lesbian is also really similar to the slur, “fucking lesbian”

CONNECTION TO THE FIRST ARTICLE WE READ

Norway’s state feminism and inclusion of queerness is heteronormative, only assimilating those that fit into the family, hetero model (thinking to naked sculpture park, extremely family oriented)

Same sex has to still be straight – family, private, culturally straight.

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thatishogwash · 6 years

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The Grenade

13 Days of HQ Halloween pt2

October 1 - Witches AO3

October 2 - Witches pt2 AO3

October 4 - Demons AO3

October 9 - Monsters AO3

October 10 - Costumes AO3

October 13 - Haunted Houses AO3

October 15 - Ghosts AO3

October 16 - Wewolves AO3

October 17 - Ghoul/Monsters AO3

Koushi leaned forward and tilted his head, aligning himself up with Daichi to see what the other teen was seeing. He wasn’t even surprised to see Kuroo Tetsurou in the middle of his sight, Sawamura had been crushing for what seemed like forever but was probably only the past couple months. Ever since Daichi had been switched into Tetsurou’s biology class. It had been adorable at first, Koushi had never seen his friend have a crush on anyone before, but now it was kind of getting pathetic and sad.

“You could do this crazy things kids nowadays call talking? Might even try it near him or possibly at him if you’re feeling like a mad man.” Daichi shot a half hearted glare at Koushi before continuing to eat his lunch. Koushi knew his friend had it bad since nothing usually got between a werewolf and his food.

“I’ve tried but everytime I go up to him his bodyguard gets in the way.” Daichi mumbled. “I think they might be dating.” His fuzzy ears point down as he continues to eat his food. Koushi looks back over at the table Tetsurou is sitting at, to Tendou Satori who had moved closer to Tetsurou when he noticed Daichi looking.

Koushi knew body language so he understood that there was nothing romantic shared between Tetsurou and Satori. Koushi never had a chance to talk to the tall ghoul, but he thought this friday with the upcoming dancing might be the perfect chance to chat him up. Koushi could easily distract Satori so Daichi could finally make his move. Tetsurou would have to be an absolute idiot not to fall for those puppy dog eyes and considering that Koushi was currently battling out the top class rankings with Tetsurou, he was no idiot.

“Suga, what are you planning? I don’t like that look on your face.” Daichi’s ears were pinned against his head as he stared across the table at Koushi.

“That’s rude Daichi, I can’t help how my face looks.” Koushi said, purposefully misunderstanding what Daichi had said.

“Um Daichi can we switch seats?” Asahi huddled closer to Daichi and they all glanced down the table to see the gargoyle Aone Takanobe once again staring down Asahi.

Koushi let out a sigh. His friends were hopeless and it was clearly up to him to fix everything.

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

Koushi had to blackmail, barter, and basically trick his friends into going to the dance on Friday. In the end Koushi just had to mention that the Student Council President, as in Sawamura Daichi, should be present at the dance he orchestrated, raised money for, and helped decorate. Plus he had to announce the homecoming queen and king. After convincing Daichi to come it was easy to get the werewolf to bully Asahi into coming also.

It was fun lulling his friends into a false sense of security, letting them exist on the perimeter of the dance floor while chatting with friends and enjoying the food and drinks provided. Koushi knew if he tried to spring his plan into action too soon it was likely to spook his two cowardly friends and send them running.

So while Daichi was busy talking to a happy couple in the form of Bokuto Koutarou and Michimiya Yui, Koushi slipped off into the crowd. He had located Tetsurou’s own group early on in the evening, keeping a close lookout to make sure his hypothesis of Tetsurou being a free man was true. Keeping a close eye on Tetsurou meant Koushi saw a lot of Satori and he had gathered a better idea as to why Satori was so protective of his friend.

Koushi had never suffered from the lack of friends or monster interaction before. He was a siren, a creature born from a human father and a siren mother. He was well loved and had been introduced into both worlds at a young age. Koushi always had friends and when he had entered this high school full of monsters like himself, it had been relatively easy for him to carve out a comfortable corner for himself.

Koushi knew others did not have it as easy as he did but he had thought it would be different in a school full of monsters. Maybe it was naive of him, but he knew he would have to play everything carefully from here on out. He wanted to help his friend but Daichi wouldn’t be thankful if it came at the expense of someone else's hurt feelings.

Luckily Koushi had recruited Yui to help out and she would send Daichi over to Tetsurou as soon as he was free.

“S-Suga.” Asahi stuttered, grabbing at his sleeve as he tried to sneak by. Koushi looked up, and up at Takanobe’s stone hard face before taking Asahi’s hand and placing it into Takanobe’s.

“He just wants to dance, he likes you.” Koushi gleefully watched Asahi’s face turn red as he stared down at the hand holding his own. “Gargoyles can’t speak, he wasn’t pointing at you to intimidate you, he was trying to dumb down sign language so you’d understand.”

“Oh.” Asahi sounded completely chasized before he looked up at Takanobe’s face hesitantly. “Do you want to dance?” Takanobe nodded and together they walked off to the floor.

Koushi rolled his eyes before continuing his walk across the large gym turned mythical forest for the dance. He waved to people as he passed by but he wouldn’t be deterred until he made it to Tetsurou’s little group. From an outsider's perspective they might look like troublemakers, the exact opposite of the kind of people Koushi’s parents would approve of. But Koushi knew better.

Tetsurou was a grim reaper and his appearance echoed that with his dark hair, pale skin, and all black outfit. He tended to provoke people, poking at hidden weaknesses and insecurities but mostly he saved that for the likes of Oikawa Tooru and Daishou Suguru, who deserved it. In truth he was a giant nerd who took pride in his schoolwork and jumped on the chance to complete extra credit, even though he was at the top of his class. Tetsurou spent his afterschool hours tutoring anyone who asked him.

The people who surrounded Tetsurou tended to echo him, those who looked rough around the edges but were big softies inside. He also gathered those who most needed friends around him, which was something Daichi himself was prone to do and was only part of the reason Koushi thought they’d do so well together.

“Hello, it’s Tendou Satori right?” Koushi smiled as several eyes turned towards him. “You’re really tall, do you think you could help me with a banner that’s fallen down. I can’t reach it and I’d hate to drag a ladder in the middle of the dance.” Koushi didn’t purposefully lace any of the sirens song magic into his words, but it didn’t mean he didn’t stop it if it did.

Satori was tall and the banner did need fixing, Koushi didn’t have to mention that he asked Yaku Morisuke to pull it down. It was all in the name of getting Daichi some free time to talk to his crush, anything that happened after that was up to Daichi.

“You’re asking me?” Satori loomed over Koushi, his red eyes trying to pin Koushi to his spot. Koushi had heard the unflattering things people had called Satori, but up this close Koushi couldn’t help but noticing that all his posturing was kind of like a little kitten puffing itself up to try and look bigger.

Cute.

“Yes please.” Koushi decided to grab life by the horns, or whatever the saying was. Personally he’d never grab anyone's horns, it was quite rude and painful to some, but he thought maybe it was a more metaphorical saying. Either way, he grabbed Satori’s green hand, surprised at the warmth there, and pulled him towards the banner in need of fixing. “Thank you so much for doing this, otherwise I might have had to ask Noya.” Nishinoya Yuu was an elemental and while he could fly he most likely would knock down more decorations while he was up there.

“You could have asked a lot of other people who would be happy to help you.” Satori said as they passed by Yui pushing a confused Daichi across the dancefloor, towards a confused looking Tetsurou.

“Are you saying you’re not happy to help me?” Koushi asked, stopping to place one hand on his hip to look up at Satori. He really was quite tall but lanky. The skin around his left eye was a darker green, the stitching looking new and the darker color made his eyes look two different shades of red.

“You can’t fool me, Suga-Suga.” Satori sing-songed, going back to loom over Koushi. Koushi though the intimidating act was lost on him since it just brought them closer together and he was again noted how warm Satori was.

“Fool you?” Koushi asked, half distracted. Satori’s bowtie looked like it was melting.

“I’m a grenade.” Koushi blinked up in confusion, having to tilt his head far back to do it. “The ugly one that a good friend has to throw themselves on so their friend can talk to the pretty one.” Satori motioned behind them. Koushi leaned around him to look towards Tetsurou, who was now accompanied by an annoyed looking Daichi. Tetsurou was looming over him in much the same way Satori as doing to Koushi, but then Tetsurou said something and Daichi was laughing, his face breaking out into a large smile. The kind that made his eyes almost shut close, the adorable dimple in his left cheek pop out, and his tail wagged gently behind him. Tetsurou’s face went slack before a bright blush covered his face.

“Wait, you think you’re ugly?” Koushi asked in surprise after doing a mental victory chant for Daichi, he had Tetsurou now. “Tendou Satori you might be many things but ugly is not one of them.”

“Oh yeah? What am I?” Uncertainty flashed in those ruby deaths but he hid it with a sneer.

“Protective, infuriating, beautiful, clever-” Koushi gave Satori’s stomach a light chop, just so he’d bend over and stop looming over him. “Should I go on or is that blush indicating I should stop?” Satori pursed his lips and looked away as Koushi touched that melting bowtie, humming at the effect the fabric had. “So will you help me with the banner and dance with me? Or do I need to go on?” Satori glanced behind him, his face falling a little as they watched Tetsurou bend slightly at the waist, laughing like a hyena and resting his forehead against Daichi’s shoulder as he did so.

Now Koushi got the full picture.

“Look at how awkward they are, they probably won’t even be able to hold hands for a month without blushing. We should go over and make sure they don’t embarrass themselves further.” Koushi offered softly. Satori was worried about losing one of his only friends, but Koushi was willing to be patient. It wouldn’t take long for Satori to notice that not only would Daichi not take Tetsurou away, that he made a very good, non-judgement friend too.

“That banner is going to fall down.” Asahi said from behind them.

“I’ll get it!” Nishinoya Yuu yelled out, flying up in the air to a loud chorus of NO’s but it was already too late.

#my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sugaten #kurodai #asanobe #sugawara koushi #tendou satori #Kuroo Tetsurou #sawamura daichi #azumane asahi #Aone Takanobu

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krixwell-liveblogs · 6 years

Text

Check out this post. Wildbow talks about his life on reddit. This explains so much about Taylor’s school experience. No Worm spoilers

This sounds interesting. I’ve frequently wondered about how Wildbow’s life shaped this story.

Let’s take a look.

Redditors who have opted out of a standard approach to life (study then full time work, mortgage etc), please share your stories. What are the best and worst things about your lifestyle, and do you have any regrets?

Well, the title is already intriguing.

Hermit writer here.

Born hard of hearing, went to a regular school. Struggled in middle school. Struggled in high school. Kids who were in my class in kindergarten were in my classes all the way through to grade ten, with the elementary/middle school and high school being a stone's throw from one another.

I kind of knew about the hard of hearing bit already. I can’t find the ask that told me about it, though (it was probably before I stopped using screenshots for asks).

So far this sounds relatively normal, except for that part. But I’m guessing he’s going to elaborate a bit on the struggles surrounding his school life and hearing problems?

In grade 10, after years of bullying and a peer group that had established who was 'in' and who was 'out' when I was knee-high, tired of struggling, I was walking down the halls and I found myself wondering when the last time I'd even opened my mouth in school was.

Oh wow.

I stopped dead in my tracks, just paralyzed by loneliness. I asked myself what the point was, couldn't come up with an answer, resumed walking, went out the side door of the school and went home.

This clearly parallels a few of the last times we saw Taylor at Winslow High.

The start of me just not going to school for that entire year. Nobody noticed.

Damn. He really did write all that from experience. It took a while for Taylor’s absence to get noted, too.

Taylor’s absence getting noted at all actually seems like a fantasy compared to this.

I got caught at the end of the year, did the same thing the next year, got caught only at the end.

What the hell sort of attendance routines did this school have? Clearly not good ones.

Ended up going to an Alternative school (Self study), proved to myself that I had it in me when I got 3 years of studying done in 8 months, won two awards... and then had to go back to my old school for what was essentially grade 13, where I struggled.

Huh. Well done.

People learn in very different ways. Some people can do this much more effectively than learning in a group. Some people are like me and can’t make themselves keep up the effort required to self study, or learn better from lectures than reading.

Some people learn by observing their surroundings while flying.

I worked retail and found it fine. But family wanted me to go to University and figure myself out.

I’m currently working retail, taking a break from the educational system and buying time to figure out what to study.

I went to University and I struggled.

Guys, I’m sensing a theme here.

I spent a long, long time trying to figure out why I struggled, why I was tired all the time, and it took a kind of confluence of events before I realized what should've been obvious. I found the social stuff hard and I was exhausted after a day of listening because I'm severely to profoundly deaf.

Oh yeah, that makes a ton of sense. It’s like how focusing is exhausting when you have trouble doing that, how reading without glasses you need tires out your eyes and brain, etc.

Honestly, it’s a little surprising that I haven’t (explicitly) met a hard of hearing character in Worm yet. Maybe later? Oh wait, there was that deaf waitress at the villain pub in Hive.

Beyond that, the 'path' just isn't for me. The systems and institutions just grind me down. The idea of a 9 to 5 is death to me. These things are built and streamlined for the average person, and between disability and a fairly extreme degree of introversion, I'm far from that average.

That is very fair. There’s definitely a brand of ableism in that system.

In the end, I stepped off the path. I'd been writing a thing online as a side project and the reception was good, so I decided to leave school earlier than planned, use the savings I had, stretch things as far as I could, and work when I could (with a family friend when he needed the help and had the cash to spare, doing some landscaping, drywall installation, house painting, all prepping houses for sale in a boom market) to stretch things further.

This would be too early for that thing online to be Worm, right?

It just occurred to me that I have no idea how old Wildbow is.

And I wrote as seriously as I could while people close to me told me that I didn't deserve to 'get lucky' and have the writing work out because I hadn't seen University all the way through, or openly expressed doubts and disappointments.

Yikes.

Fuck that noise. Writing is tons of effort!

But you know, it worked out in the end. I wrote the equivalent of 20 books in 2.4 years, wrote another 10 for my next series in the ensuing 1.2 years, and I've kept up a similar pace over the last 7 years and two months.

Especially when you’re this coddamn productive!

That’s 8.33 books a year!

I started writing mid- 2011, left school at the start of 2012, went full-time-paying-the-bills in 2014 with an income around minimum wage. I moved to a small town (no car, nothing fancy) that same year. I'm now closer to the average Canadian wage. It's been two chapters a week (2.5 if crowdfunding money is enough) since the beginning.

Oh, I suppose that means it would be Worm after all.

When was this written... huh, yesterday? Well, that explains why this hasn’t been sent to me before.

Writing being Wildbow’s only/main income makes me feel even more right about my decision to set things up so that some of the money from my Patreon goes to Wildbow. It’s not that big a portion of his income (apparently average Canadian wage is 986 CAD or 755 USD per week, and I chip in with about 3.26 CAD or 2.50 USD per week), but it’s something.

My reality: I can go a week or two without really talking to anyone that isn't a cashier.

Sounds a bit lonely in the long run, but as a fellow introvert (or maybe I’m an ambivert, in the systems where that’s actually a thing), I get it - it also does sound pretty good. Especially if you’ve got internet people to casually interact with at your own leisure.

Every two months or so I go to a relative's to dogsit while they're on vacation or to see someone for their birthday, and that gives me most of my fill of socialization and companionship.

Nice!

I don't have a car, so it's usually walking or taking the train to another city, and using public transpo there. I subsisted on a rice and beans diet for a good stretch, one $15 video game bought in a year, and my level of expenses hasn't really risen that much from that point. I eat better and buy a couple more things, but nothing major.

So I guess this would be somewhere between average and reserved?

I don’t know. Being Norwegian spoils me on these things.

60%+ of what I earn goes to savings, which gives me security when my income could fluctuate or disappear at any time.

Oh, that’s smart. I suppose writing would be a bit of a risky business, what with writer’s block, audience fluctuations, sudden drops in popularity because something you wrote didn’t go over as well as you thought it would, etc.

My schedule is entirely my own, which usually amounts to 2.5 15+ hour workdays a week and another 5-10 hours a week spent managing community, finances, and exchanging emails with tv/movie studios, publishers or startups.

I was going to talk about the long but few workdays, but tv/movie studios excuse me what

Is a TV series version of something Wildbow wrote (Worm or otherwise) a serious possibility right now?? :o

Best things - I love what I do. I love creating, I love my reader's tears, I love my readers being horrified.

This is really important. You gotta enjoy what you do.

I get to make monsters and be surprised by what my characters do. Many of my fans are just the absolute coolest people - people I'm now insanely glad to have met and include in my life. There's amazing fanart of my work out there, music, people have gotten tattoos. Tattoos. That's insane.

People have permanently, painfully painted their appreciation of your work into their bodies, Wildbow!

The bad- I'm an online content creator, and it's impossible to convey just how toxic the toxic elements of a fandom can get and how negative the negative aspects can get, and how much it can affect you.

That is true. There will always be a toxic side, and I can imagine works like Worm would attract a lot of the edgy sort.

I've seen 20 online content creators either break down or remark on the effect it has, and it's wholly accurate- and my audience isn't even ~that~ large.

Yeah, it doesn’t take that many people to start brewing fandom sides like this.

This is multiplied by the fact that writing is lonely as a profession (I know too many writers who can't even talk to their life partners about their work) and it can be hard to find perspective or balance as you take it all in, when you don't have people to communicate with.

Robert Jordan used his wife as a beta reader or editor of sorts. She was there to tell him when something he wrote didn’t quite come across, to make up for the fact that he couldn’t tell. After all, he knew what he meant by that one line.

On a similar note, some casual dating would be nice, and living in a small town for economical reasons doesn't leave me with a large dating pool, and at this point I'm not even sure if I could or should inflict myself on someone.

Oof.

There are way too many people who think like that. I hope you find happiness with someone who sees you for the good bean you are, Wildbow.

I'm healthy, groomed, I can hold a conversation, I'm just pretty set in my introverted ways.

...relatable, though.

But still, I’m pretty sure there are people out there for us, who not only tolerate but appreciate the introvert lifestyle.

Hell, both of my crushes have been very introverted, even compared to myself, so I know those people exist because I’m among them.

On another, less social note, there is the fact that as an online content creator, you can't really take breaks. Or you can, but it costs. Consistency and frequency of updates are god, and a hiatus is a death knell.

No wonder he criticized me on this that one time. In his situation, it matters a lot.

I don't even know what an effective vacation would entail, because I feel like finding my stride again would cost more than I gained from having the break. So it's been seven years and two months without a vacation, writing a short book every month.

Damn.

You deserve so many props, Wildbow.

...at some point here I started talking to Wildbow, just like I do to Taylor and other Worm characters. Well, at least this time there’s actually a chance he’s going to read this sometime, if he hasn’t dropped my blog.

I just hope he doesn’t think it’s weird that I’m liveblogging his life story.

It makes for a very strange sort of burnout, when I love it so much, I can still regularly put out some great work to acclaim and praise, but am nonetheless worn down around the edges.

That does not sound healthy.

No regrets. This is me. This is what I'm built for.

As long as you feel it’s right for you, this is good. :)

I could do with less negativity from some fans and getting regular good nights of sleep (the deafness comes with insomnia by way of terminal tinnitus), but both of those just come with the territory.

Ouch.

I feel you on the sleep front (ADD has its ways of messing with your ability to fall asleep too), but tinnitus sounds like a particularly annoying way to be inflicted with it.

I've been telling family for the last year that I'll move to a city with more going on than (as my elderly neighbor phrased it) drinking and meth, where there's classes to take, a possible dating pool, and/or activities that could break me out of my hermit shell... but my current apartment is amazing and cheap, with the nicest landlords ever. It's just in a do-nothing town. I haven't found anything remotely competitive, even taking 'cheap' off the table.

I’ve lived in small-ish towns all my life. It’s pretty nice, especially as an introvert.

So that's where I'm at.

Thank you, Wildbow. This was an interesting read. I feel like I know you a bit better now. :)

(Again, if you’re reading this, I hope it wasn’t too weird to see me liveblogging this.)

#Worm #krixwell liveblogs #Arc 14 #chapter 14.11 #14.11 bet #asks #wildbow's life #mlp:fim #i tried to keep references and jokes out of this

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profound-boning · 6 years

Text

timestamp for A Kind of Magic; ~1790 words, deancas friendship (they’re 11), cole trenton sux, Hogwarts feels

As his first year draws to a close, Dean feels nothing but gratitude for the many wonderful things that have happened since September.

His flying skills have improved, he’s earned good grades (or, “top marks” as Professors MacLeod and Crowley are fond of saying) and had an amazing amount of fun.

Sunny afternoons by the lake, all-nighters in the Hufflepuff common room, and the best birthday party he could have imagined are at the top of the list, with his friends faces shining brightly in every memory.

The end of the year exams are similar to what Dean remembers from “regular school” but middle school was a lot different from Hogwarts. At his old school they did a lot of projects, used computers and iPads, and ate lunch in the cafeteria. Plus, he had to go home every day. Here, he gets to see his friends all the time and his classes are way more fun. Dean can do magic.

One thing that is the same is the bullies. At Dean’s old school they put kids in lockers or stole their glasses or pencils. Here, they’ll cast a spell to make your pants disappear or your books, or they’ll give you a treat that makes your tongue swell up.

Or, if you’re Christian and Cole, you stick to mean insults. Dean doesn’t believe in that “sticks and stones” mumbo jumbo anymore because words can be very hurtful.

Actually, Christian has gotten a tiny bit better. Rather, he got the talking to of his life from the professors and maybe even from his family because he’s backed off a lot. He doesn’t approach Dean at all, just glares at him or makes threatening gestures in the halls. Dean and his friends are careful to steer clear of the older Gryffindors on principle.

Cole is, unfortunately, not backing off at all and is a much more difficult to avoid.

It doesn’t make sense to Dean that Cole wants to pick on him when they’ve hardly interacted at all, but he’s accepted it. Everyone who matters is kind to him and supportive when he’s feeling down. So why worry about one jerk?

Dean would much rather focus on how many marshmallows he and Garth can fit into their mouths, what’s the craziest spell he and Kelly can find in their textbooks, and where else in the castle can he and Cas explore before the end of the year?

Cas seems to know everything about Hogwarts, which is due to a combination of having a magical family, being a curious and adventurous kid, having an equally curious and adventurous friend like Dean, and being a huge dork. Dean reminds him of that quite often, including this very morning while they are eating breakfast.

“Hey, dork, where should we go exploring today?” he asks, biting into an apple.

Rolling his eyes, Cas smiles at him. “I’m not sure yet. Let’s pick a random staircase again?” They could probably do this all seven years and not cover every single staircase, landing, and hallway in the castle—the way that the stairs constantly change makes it difficult to keep track of their progress.

“Sure thing,” Dean agrees, adding butter to his toast. “Hey, did you finish our Potions homework yet?”

“Yes,” Cas answers around the pancake in his mouth. “I had some free time,” he says defensively when Dean glares at him.

“You spend all your free time flying, not writing essays,” he says. “What gives?”

Cas laughs. “That’s true. I guess I had extra extra free time.”

Dean sighs heavily, pretending to be very put upon. “I guess I’ll have to suffer on my own, then. Waste away on this assignment.”

“You big baby,” Cas teases. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll help you.”

He leans into Cas’s shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. You’re a gem.”

“I know,” Cas says loftily. “Don’t you forget it.”

They eat some more before exiting the Great Hall, wearing jeans in celebration of the weekend. Cas is wearing a lumpy sweater—which should be weird considering it’s the end of May and fairly warm, but Cas tends to get cold more easily so it makes sense.

Their morning passes without incident, traipsing from one end of the castle to the other. Dean chose the stairs this time and led them up a tower they hadn’t seen yet. They look out of the windows in order to explore the outside of the castle and observe the grounds. Lots of people are taking advantage of the nice weather to relax outside, including Benny and a pretty Ravenclaw girl named Andrea. Dean hollers at his friend just to be embarrassing and Cas hits his arm.

“Dean! Don’t tease him,” Cas admonishes, even though he’s laughing, too.

“Just having fun. Benny’s got such a big crush on her.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t get it.”

Cas looks at him. “He likes her. We’re all pretty sure she likes him back; all of us except Benny, that is. What’s not to get?”

Dean scrunches his nose. “Dunno, just doesn’t seem important at the moment.”

“Well, Dean, just because you’d rather be reading or practicing spells doesn’t mean the rest of us are nerds like you.” Cas backs away quickly to avoid Dean hitting him, pushing off the wall to keep running up the stairs. And back down again, still avoiding Dean’s grasp, they laugh and shout together.

“If you aren’t in class, or getting ready for class, or doing homework, or working ahead for class, then you’re eating!”

“Shut up, Cas! I’m not the one who ate two whole boxes of those jelly beans you love in one night!”

And this is certainly what Dean will miss the most over the long summer months. The feeling of being with Cas, being wild and free with him, laughing harder than he ever has before.

They’re hoping to get John to agree to let them visit each other at some point over the long break until September, but Dean isn’t hopeful. He tries to be as optimistic as Cas but it’s hard to think about the look on his dad’s face if Dean were to ask to go and stay at a magical home or to bring another young wizard into their house.

Therefore, he takes in every single moment they have left, embraces having fun with all of his friends with fervor. He can’t really spend time with them all at once, so he has to improvise. And at least there’s always the owl post.

He and Cas eventually decide to quit running around indoors. It’s really a beautiful day outside. Cas makes noises about getting out on his broomstick again while Dean contemplates the classwork that needs his attention. They agree that the Quidditch pitch is a great place to meet both of their needs and they set off for the dormitories to grab their things. Dean isn’t allowed past the stairs leading down to the Slytherin “dungeon” as he likes to call it just to tease his best friend, so he lingers in the hall. It only takes Cas a minute to change and then they set off toward the Hufflepuff common room. The old tradition of keeping the rooms absolutely top secret from other students has petered off, with friends often waiting for each other in the hallways, but the common room itself is practically sacred. It’d just be weird to have someone else in there—even the professors don’t go in unless there’s an emergency.

That means rounding the corner and spotting Cole Trenton standing in front of the barrels that make up what amounts to Dean’s front door is pretty freaky. He quickly nudges Cas and they silently back up out of sight.

“What the hell?” Cas whispers, looking angry.

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “What do you think’s going on?”

Cas peers around the corner and whispers, “I think he’s trying to break in, that little—”

“But why? What’s even the point?”

Cas chews his lip. “Could be nothing. But maybe he’s trying to pull some prank. You know what though? It doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. He shouldn’t just be trying to bust in there, it isn’t cool.”

“I agree,” Dean says, leaning over to look again. Cole seems to be stuck on precisely what to do to the barrels to get the door to open but it may not be long before he figures it out. “Donnie told me no one’s been down there for—”

He never gets to finish that sentence. Cole screams bloody murder the second the enchanted barrels react to his attempted entry, despite the fact that the vinegar is harmless. Still, getting absolutely drenched in the stuff can’t feel good. He must have tried a pattern at random and that caused the doorway to reject him harshly.

Dean and Cas lean on each other’s shoulders in order to laugh hysterically. When they realize Cole can hear them, they grab each other’s hand and run away as fast as they can. Still laughing, they duck into the otherwise empty Great Hall and double over.

“Oh my”—Cas pants—“I can’t breathe.”

“The funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean agrees, breathless with laughter. “I’m getting a cramp.”

Cas wipes actual tears from under his eyes and snorts. “I can’t believe our luck to witness that. We’re so blessed.”

“Think it taught him a lesson?” he wonders.

Cas looks thoughtful. “One can only hope,” he finally answers. “But c’mon.” He tugs on Dean’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s head down to the pitch.”

“But I don’t have my homework,” he whines. Regardless, he follows Cas out of the Hall.

“We can come back for it later,” Cas reasons, “after the vinegar gets cleaned up.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Should we tell someone?” Dean frets.

As they pass by the hallway in question, they observe Professor Mills laying into a soaking wet and smelly Cole with Professor Singer looking on quite sternly, arms folded.

“Looks like it’s all been taken care of,” Cas says breezily. “He’ll be cleaning that up with a toothbrush, mark my words.”

Dean laughs again just picturing that. Soon, the pair duck outside and are greeted by warm sunshine. Since Dean doesn’t have his materials to study, maybe Cas will help him practice his flying.

He looks over at Cas, still grinning broadly (probably also imagining that bully scrubbing the floors outside Dean’s common room) and leading them toward the storage unit for practice brooms.

Dean feels incredibly grateful that he met Cas on the train and, when Cas turns to hand him a broom with a toothy smile, he feels happy. Perfectly, indescribably, untouchably happy.

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traitor-boyfriend · 7 years

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I just read your post about Stan and Kyle's relationship and I totally agree, but I was wondering if you might elaborate on what you mean when you said Kyle acts as a moral/ethical guide for Stan? I'm not disagreeing but I'd love to hear you talk more about it

sure!

kyle is obviously the most morally fixated of the four boys and i would say after about season four or so is when they really began to take this direction with his character. whenever something transpires within the group, kyle is almost always the first to disagree w whatever plot they (’they’ almost always meaning cartman) start brainstorming to keep themselves from getting into trouble, that they should instead own up to their mistakes and take responsibility and suffer the consequences that come along w it. rarely if ever does anyone actually listen to kyle and he’s cajoled into complicity but that doesn’t stop him from offering his disapproval at every turn in the name of wanting to do the right thing. the best example of this is ‘toilet paper’ where they tp their art teacher’s house for making them stay late; kenny and stan are immediately on board when cartman suggests it but kyle is uncomfortable w the idea entirely, and after it’s done he’s racked w guilt and is seen as the weakest link in all of them b/c of his compulsion to tell the truth. we get to see kyle struggling w guilt pretty often and the apex of it is usually when some outside force is preventing or coercing him from coming clean about whatever it is he’s done. though stan and kyle both shared the whole ‘gay little speech’ element in the very beginning, it’s pretty much been exclusive to kyle for the majority of the series -- kyle is the one to always explain what they learned at the end of the episode, to tie together the moral lesson you’re supposed to take away from it

because he’s a kid, kyle can occasionally be swayed out of his conviction if the consequences are great enough for him to be afraid of (this tends to be his mom). when butters’ gets the ninja star stuck in his eye in ‘good times with weapons’, kyle initially panics and agrees with cartman’s idea to kill butters and bury him in kyle’s backyard b/c he’s so petrified by the idea of his mother finding out what he was doing. but even then his moral center comes back around, even if he doesn’t follow through; he protests the idea of taking butters to a vet instead of a hospital and later tries to get rid of his ninja weapon and instead confess to what happened. in ‘crack baby athletic association’ kyle is outraged and disgusted by what he sees as cartman exploiting the babies born addicted to narcotics and wants to expose him, but he changes his tune after learning how much money cartman is making. so he eventually joins cartman but justifies it to himself as taking care of these babies, giving them opportunities they wouldn’t otherwise get, raising awareness, etc -- even though he’s in the wrong, kyle tries to view his actions through a benevolent lens in that what he’s doing -is- the right thing; that’s why it bothers him so much when stan tells him he sounds just like cartman. stan is seeing both of their actions clearly in the same vein, but in kyle’s mind, he’s incapable of conceiving himself being in anyway like cartman and has to further delude himself into seeing the positives of his actions. he goes as far as showing up in stan’s bedroom in the middle of the night to legitimize his actions, both to himself and to stan, because stan’s opinion of him matters so much that kyle can’t move past it unless he’s able to convince stan that he’s in the right. to his credit, kyle does try to rectify his actions with the ea sports deal and building an orphanage and whatnot. two wrongs don’t make a right, but that won’t stop kyle from trying.

basically i’m just trying to fully highlight the extent of kyle’s dedication to being honest, being kind, being a good person etc. it matters a lot to him and it’s also touched on briefly now and then w regards to his being jewish -- that being a good person is important if not only for the sake of being a good person.

it’s not that stan isn’t concerned w being a good person or doing the right thing, but he has more of a selfish or self-centered impulse than kyle does. stan cares a great deal more than kyle of what people think of him and is more desperate to be accepted or liked by his peers, so he’s often subservient to the whims of passing trends and fads or following the crowd. this is a debatable point but i also think because of this stan is generally more prone to blatant egotism than kyle -- when he leads some kind of superficial crusade (’butterballs’, ‘scause for applause’, ‘bass to mouth’), it’s pretty plainly about himself and his own feelings whereas when kyle gets wrapped up in a similar power-trip it’s usually at least manifested/disguised in some cause greater than himself, even if it’s a self-centered one.

i’m gonna touch on the examples i provided above briefly:

-butterballs: stan begins the anti-bullying campaign initially out of concern for butters but when he sees how highly his classmates regard him for taking a stand, it very quickly divulges into stan riding the high of peer approval w regards to the music video, making it seen, going on dr. oz etc. kyle is the only one who finds fault with it -- “don’t act for me, stan, really” is a really caustic but honest assessment of the situation on kyle’s end b/c he sees that stan is more concerned w how his efforts are being received and praised rather than helping butters. again highlighted by their interaction in the bathroom when stan insists his video needs to be seen by everyone and kyle tells him to put it on the internet for free instead if he feels that way. stan is dumbstruck b/c he doesn’t know how to defend himself b/c he knows kyle is right, and he cares more about accolades/profit more than he does actually making any kind of grand social change.

-scause for applause: my favorite example, i think. again, stan’s refusal to take off the bracelet starts as something personal to him and very, very quickly transforms into a selfish movement about himself, ‘stanground’, b/c he loves the positive affirmation he receives as a result. craig then accuses him of having lied, and stan berates him in front of everyone in a really acerbic manner and only fuels the fire that eventually brings him down. when everyone hates stan after finding out he actually did cut off his bracelet, kyle tries to nudge stan in the right direction by urging him to tell the truth, but stan only doubles down and tries to get everyone on his side again w a convoluted scheme to make it seem as if the whole thing was intentional. when this blows up in his face, again, kyle -- without judgement -- confronts him about having asked heidi to borrow superglue the week before. stan scoffs and i think he says something like “you’re still on that, dude?” and of course kyle is! why wouldn’t he be! he doesn’t want to see his friend dig himself any further a hole than he already has.

-bass to mouth: everyone participates in the wikileaks gossip site at school but kyle; he’s the only one who has an outright problem with such an invasion of privacy, and stan tries to get him to lighten up. kyle remarks that it wouldn’t be funny if something about stan were written on there; stan responds flippantly that there isn’t, only for something about him to show up shortly after. cue stan leading the charge to find out who the site-runner is only for kyle to remind him during the meeting that, okay, now that it happened to you, it isn’t funny, right?

not necessarily in the same vein of selfishness, ‘two days before the day after tomorrow’ is another great example of kyle wanting stan to do the right thing. after they destroy the dam, cartman and stan agree not to tell anyone, but when stan is confronted by the destruction his actions have caused with the people of beaverton being trapped in their flooded homes, he feels immensely remorseful. cartman sternly demands that he not tell kyle b/c kyle will obviously try to get him to confess to what they did. stan ends up telling kyle anyway to the exact result, advising him to let everyone know he’s responsible so the people stranded can receive actual help. cartman becomes irate when he realizes kyle knows, but instead of following his advice, stan tries to do the right thing in a roundabout way: rescue the people himself so he can “do the right thing, but still lie about it.” this doesn’t work and only serves to put the boys themselves in grave danger, and kyle pleads for stan to own up to what he did if for their sake only. he calls randy and comes so close to following through only to decide against it, to which kyle is visibly angry and upset with him. by the time stan does come around to telling the truth it’s too late -- everyone thinks he’s speaking metaphorically about breaking the dam instead of literally which leaves him frustrated.

there’s more examples of this, but kyle very frequently is the first one who tries to intervene when stan gets himself in more trouble than he can handle by trying to guide him toward what’s honest and what’s right. stan is often described as the everyman or the straight man of the group, and for the most part i agree with this -- stan himself is a very average kid. but i think it helps to also look at his family dynamic; he has no siblings he can really rely on as shelly is far too volatile, and though she’s shown some moments of genuine concern and care for stan (that i love and wish there was more of!) she generally holds stan with disdain and irritation. sharon is shown to love and care deeply for stan’s well-being but is also largely unaware of the extent of his problems as her hands are usually tied up elsewhere (and doesn’t receive enough one-on-one interaction with stan for me to really comment on how well she handles those problems). randy is a fucking mess and speaking as someone w a parent who was a functioning alcoholic as randy is, i can attest to how fragile and chaotic a relationship like that can be. randy is certainly no role model of decency. i mean, christ, there’s an entire episode based around the concept of randy teaching stan how to lie effectively wherein which he demonstrates ‘tells’ for stan only to exhibit them when he tells stan he loves him. obviously this is played as a joke, but stan notices this and is rightly upset. randy, as a parent and a person, is incredibly selfish, has no sense of boundaries, acts in his own self-interest, and treats stan like a friend instead of son -- not a very good friend at that. not that randy has absolutely no redeeming qualities, but they’re few and far between, and the rare occasion we see him genuinely try to help or bond with stan usually ends up in another wacky misadventure. my point being, stan doesn’t have a very strong support system within his home and thus has to rely entirely on his own will to guide himself.

kyle is one of very few who is really ever shown to expect better of stan, to want him to be better than he is, to want him to be better for the simple fact that he should want it for himself as well -- not so he can get anything out of it.

that was what i mean by kyle being a moral guide for stan and helping keep him grounded. sorry this became so long, but i hope this answered your question!

#south park #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #Anonymous

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rebeccathewinterqueen · 4 years

Text

Awakening: Furious Battle pt 1

Title: Awakening (The Samaya Court Book 1)

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! and Pokemon

Characters: Yuugi Mutou, Jounouchi Katsuya, Anzu Mazaki, Honda Hiroto, Miho Nosaka, Ushio

A/N: Aiming for once a week updates in the vicinity of Monday nights/Tuesday mornings ^_^

The air was unusually warm for spring in the Kanto region of the world. Domino City, which sat near the coast, felt warmer still. The students of Domino High, particularly class 1-B, were taking advantage of it for their lunch break.

“Hey, who’s up for basketball?”

“Let’s invite the girls to play!”

“Yuugi,” a dark haired boy called. A short student with dark, red-tipped spiky hair peeked shyly up from under dyed blond bangs. “You should come play with us! It’ll be fun.”

Yuugi shook his head rapidly, grinning apologetically. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Besides, any team I’m on will just lose.”

“Yeah, but—” The student sighed, then shrugged. “I guess that’s true.” The boy left without even looking back, tucking the basketball under his arm and running to catch up with the rest of the class.

Yuugi looked down at his cards. He had brought them with him because it was a popular game and he thought maybe someone would want to play, but…“I guess no one wants to play Pokemon today,” he whispered, slouching down. He barely interacted with the other students in his class, barely spoke to anyone, so sometimes he spoke to himself just to hear something. “That sucks. Maybe I should stop bringing them…but they were talking about starting that club, that could be fun…”

He sat back in his chair. A couple students had mentioned starting a Pokemon club just so they could have something not related to school. But it would require a petition and Chono-sensei was notorious for opposing “non-essential” things like that.

“Oh, I know! I can work on my treasure today.” Yuugi sat up and dug through his bag for the small gold box he carried with him constantly. It was covered in old runes formed of circles and spindly lines. They looked almost like the English alphabet used in Unova and Kalos, but the circle-within-a-circle thing always threw him off when he tried to read it. And he wasn’t exactly good at English, either.

He popped open the lid. It was filled with jagged gold objects, most of them with sharp edges and smooth sides, except for three pieces with a raised design, one of which was an eye. “I wonder how far I can get with you today…”

The lid snapped shut under the weight of a large, long-fingered hand. “Talking to yourself again, Yuugi?”

“Jounouchi-kun!” Yuugi looked up with wide amethyst eyes. Jounouchi Katsuya was a blond teen with messily styled hair who, like Yuugi, wore the dark blue slacks and jacket of Domino High’s winter uniform. Why was Jounouchi in here instead of out playing basketball with the others?

“What is this thing, anyway?” Jounouchi held the box up, tilting his head in curiosity, locks of blond hair falling out of place.

Yuugi bit his lip. “Okay, you can look at it, but don’t lose any of the pieces! It’s my treasure, it’s important to me.”

Jounouchi opened the lid. “What the hell is this?” He glared at Yuugi. “You’re annoying, you know that? Going on about this special treasure, and it’s just a puzzle! Makes you sound like a girl.” He poked the loose pieces, picking one out and holding it up. “It’s about time someone taught you to man up. You want this back?” Yuugi nodded, biting his lip fretfully. What did Jounouchi mean? “Tell you what, then. You attack me, full-force, and I might give it back. Give me everything you got!”

“Wha—?” Understanding dawned on Yuugi—Jounouchi wanted him to hit him! Or at least try. Yuugi knew Jounouchi’s reputation, Yuugi wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on him. “No, I hate fighting!”

Jounouchi held the box over Yuugi’s head, out of reach. “Guess you’re never getting it back, then!”

“Jounouchi, is that you?” Hiroto Honda, the classroom beautification officer, stuck his head in the door. “Why aren’t you outside?” He looked at Jounouchi, then at Yuugi. “Come on, Jou, give it back to him.”

“Why? It’s dumb, anyway.” Jounouchi closed the box and tossed it at Honda, who scrambled to catch it without dropping it. Before he could, however, another, more delicate hand snatched it out of the air, saving the puzzle from spilling out onto the floor.

“If it’s so dumb, you should have given it back to Yuugi,” a feminine voice scolded.

“Mazaki!” Jounouchi yelped, stumbling slightly. “Where the hell did you come from?!”

“Anzu!” Yuugi grinned, his cheeks reddening slightly when he saw the brunette. He and Anzu had been best friends all through elementary school, until she ended up in a different middle school. When they realized they were in the same class at Domino High, though, their friendship picked up again like it never stopped.

“If you and Honda are only going to cause trouble, you should leave.” Anzu glared at the bigger boys. Honda tried to protest, but it was lost on her.

“Whatever, Mazaki.” Jounouchi glared back, then turned deliberately to Yuugi. “You really need a girl to stick up for you?” he taunted.

“Will you just shut up already?” Anzu snarled. There was a soft gasp, making them all look around. A cute girl with pale purple hair looked at them with mournful, watery eyes. “Miho!” Anzu grinned weakly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you.”

“Miho-chan!” Honda and Jounouchi both tried to get her attention, tripping over each other.

Like Anzu, Miho wore the girl’s winter uniform—a pink blouse with a blue knee-length skirt and a bow on the blouse’s front. Her lilac hair was pulled back and held in place with a yellow bow, her bangs partially covering her eyes and lending her a shy appearance. She batted her eyes at the boys, pulling their attention from Anzu and Yuugi completely. “I came to find Anzu for lunch. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’ll go buy you something!” Jounouchi and Honda yelled together. Yuugi blinked as they both tried—and somehow succeeded, wow, look at that—to squeeze out the door at the same time. He cautiously poked his head out the door, wary Jounouchi at least would remember he had been busy teasing Yuugi, but was barely fast enough to see them rounding the corner, well on their way to the lunch room.

“Wow, Miho,” Yuugi said, “they’re already gone!”

Miho bit her lip, but her eyes sparkled. “They really shouldn’t run so fast. The line was really long when I was there, they’ll probably just end up waiting.”

Yuugi giggled. “Thanks, both of you,” he said sincerely. “But Anzu, weren’t you playing basketball outside? Why did you come in?”

Anzu snorted and dropped into the empty seat in front of him, setting the box carefully in front of him. “Oh, that. The boys were passing to the girls a lot, and I thought it was weird. Then I saw them looking up the girls’ skirts when they made a shot! No way am I putting up with that.”

“Yeah, that’s awful…” Yuugi said, his face turning bright red. Wonder what Anzu’s panties…nope, he scolded himself. Anzu was a fun, strong person, what panties she was wearing was the least important thing about her.

“So what was Jounouchi-kun bothering you about?” Miho asked, linking her fingers behind her back.

“Oh! Um, this.” Yuugi tapped the box. “It’s my most precious treasure, my Millennium Puzzle.” He drew a fingertip down the side. “See these markings? They’re runes. They’re found around the world. The Millennium Puzzle was found in a ruin near the Hoenn coast, but the ruin didn’t really mention it anywhere, so they don’t know if it belonged to that civilization or if it was moved there later.” He cracked a grin. “I bet it says something like ‘whoever solves this puzzle will be granted one wish’ or something.”

“Wow, Yuugi! Where’d you get something like that?” Anzu exclaimed.

“I found it in the attic one day. Jii-chan was the one who found it, I guess, years ago, when Hoenn still let adventurers keep part of their finds.” He laughed slightly. “He said that’s why they changed the law so soon after, so they wouldn’t lose any more valuable artifacts.”

Anzu raised an eyebrow. “And he lets you just run around with a valuable artifact?”

“I’m careful with it,” Yuugi defended, placing one hand over the box.

“I know you are. Sorry, Yuugi, I was only teasing,” Anzu said apologetically. “Why would you let Katsuya look at it, though? He doesn’t exactly like you.”

“Jounouchi-kun’s not so bad,” Yuugi said softly. He looked away from her. “He just wanted me to man up, that’s all.” He looked up, grinning weakly. “Besides, you scared him off pretty quick.”

“If I’m nice, I get walked on,” she pointed out, leaning back in her chair. “The same goes for you—you have to stand up to them, at least once in a while, otherwise they won’t leave you be.”

“I guess…” Maybe Anzu was right, he thought glumly. But he hated fighting.

“Wow, it’s so pretty!” Miho exclaimed, pulling their attention back to the puzzle. She stroked one of the Puzzle pieces. “What did you wish for?”

Yuugi shook his head and lifted himself out of his thoughts. “That’s absolutely top secret! It won’t come true if I tell you guys.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anzu was already gone by the time Yuugi was ready to leave at the end of the day. He pouted slightly—he had been hoping to offer to walk her home. Oh well, he thought, another day. Tomorrow, maybe. He ran outside, following the crowd but sticking to the edge of it—being in the middle of a crowd was uncomfortable at best when you were as small as he was.

“Yuugi Mutou.” Yuugi paused and turned, head tilting slightly. He swallowed when he saw who it was—Ushio, president of the Disciplinary Committee.

“Um, yes, that’s me.” Yuugi took an instinctive step back. Ushio was huge.

“I wanted to check in with you, Yuugi,” Ushio said seriously. “Are you being bullied by your classmates?”

“Wha—? No!” Yuugi shook his head hard, slightly taken aback by the direct question. “No, of course not! Why would you ask that?”

“Of course you would say that,” Ushio said, shaking his head regretfully. “Victims always stand up for their abusers.” The young man smiled, and Yuugi was pretty sure he meant it to be reassuring, but there was something off about it he didn’t like. “Don’t worry anymore, Yuugi. I will be your bodyguard from now on. I’ll make sure no one bullies you ever again.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Ushio-san,” Yuugi insisted. “I’m not being bullied, I promise. I-I have to get home now, though. Goodbye!”

He dashed away before Ushio could say anything else, backpack bouncing against his shoulder. “Weirdo,” he muttered. “Why does he even care?”

He tried to shake off the weird feeling he got from the encounter, but the unease clung to him all the way home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Jii-chan, I’m home!” Yuugi pushed the front door of the Kame Game Shop open, the bell ringing cheerfully to announce his arrival.

“Welcome home!” Sugoroku called cheerfully from the counter. He was as tall as Yuugi and wore green overalls, a white long sleeved shirt, and an orange bandanna. At one point in his life he had had black hair in spikes similar to Yuugi’s, but now his hair was a solid steel color and the spikes drooped slightly. The customer he was with turned, smiling cheerfully.

“Hey, Yuugi!”

“Anzu!” Yuugi grinned. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said. She looked around. “Seems like it’s been forever since I’ve been in here.”

“Not since middle school,” Sugoroku agreed, scratching his beard. “Anzu was just telling me about the Millennium Puzzle. You still haven’t given that up?”

“Of course not,” Yuugi said cheerfully. “I’ve spent so long on it, I bet I’ll solve it any day now!”

His grandfather shook his head. “It might be better if you didn’t,” he said seriously. “That puzzle is beyond human knowledge, Yuugi. It does not want to be solved. Did I ever tell you about what happened on that expedition?” Yuugi shook his head, eyes wide, and Anzu scooted closer, drawn by the irresistible pull of one of Sugoroku’s adventures. It made it harder to concentrate on his grandfather’s story—she was right there! She was almost touching him! But he managed. “We found the remains of a series of tombs, probably belonging to an ancient civilization that lived in Hoenn. This tomb had been harder than most to open, and most of the traps were still intact.

“I wish cameras had been more portable then. The walls were full of carvings of strange creatures, and of course the ancient language archaeologists have found all over the world. It was a long, hard journey to get inside…” Sugoroku trailed off, eyes unfocused as he drifted in memory. “A lot of things happened in that tomb…I won’t get into all of them. But that puzzle was there at the end, instead of the embalmed body we expected. Of course I was able to retrieve it and bring it home.”

“And Hoenn decided any artifacts found were theirs, instead of letting explorers take part of it,” Yuugi concluded.

“Yes, but that’s not all,” Sugoroku said, wagging a finger at them. “Several of my team died in that tomb.” Anzu gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh, yes. Many got sick before we even started exploring—those poor people died afterward. But some of them, the ones who didn’t get sick, died because of traps inside. That tomb was said to have been cursed.” He pointed to the letters adorning the side of the box. “Do you know what this says, Yuugi?” Yuugi shook his head, eyes wide. “It says, ‘Whosoever solves this puzzle shall inherit the knowledge and power of legends.’”

“That sounds so cool!” Yuugi gushed. He held up the box. “Makes me want to solve it even more!”

“Yuugi, no!” Anzu pleaded. “It’s dangerous! What if it’s cursed or something? You should give it up.”

“Anzu’s right,” Sugoroku urged. “I…” He seemed to consider what to say, then continued. “I decided when I brought that puzzle home that I would never try to solve it. I believe that’s why I’m the only survivor of my team. But you, Yuugi? You were a kid, and I think that protected you, but you aren’t anymore.”

“No way!” Yuugi said hotly. He held the box to his chest. “To me it sounds like it’ll grant my wish after all. And nothing bad has ever happened to me!”

“Except when Katsuya and the other boys bully you,” Anzu pointed out dryly.

“Jounouchi-kun just wants me to man up,” Yuugi said lightly. “And the others are only teasing, they’re not being mean.”

“You’re father—” Sugoroku began. Then he hesitated.

“Tou-san is working overseas,” Yuugi said firmly, after a few moments’ pause. “He can’t afford to fly back and forth all the time.”

Sugoroku sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Yuugi, I know you’re right on that.” He glared at the counter top. “It has nothing to do with the Millennium Puzzle.”

Anzu was giving him a look, but suddenly Yuugi didn’t want to hang out anymore. “I have homework,” he announced, “and then I should probably get some sleep.” He smiled brittlely. “It’s been a long day. I’m sorry, Anzu.”

“Yuugi—”

He turned and fled through the door connecting the shop to the house.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That night Yuugi worked on the Puzzle, forgoing his homework entirely. It was a welcome distraction after…he shook his head. He wasn’t going there. It was a bad idea.

So of course his brain went there anyway, he thought bitterly, half-formed thoughts on the subject popping up and fading out. He sighed and let himself think on it.

So what if his father had been gone for years, since around the time he found the Puzzle? That didn’t mean the Puzzle was responsible. Curses weren’t real!

The pieces clicked together almost reluctantly.

So what if his father hadn’t written or called in over a year? That wasn’t because of the Puzzle. His father was just busy, that was all.

He fell asleep at his desk, the Puzzle next to him partially complete.

#yugioh #yugi mutou #yami yugi #anzu mazaki #honda hiroto #jounouchi katsuya #sugoroku mutou #fanfiction #yugioh fanfiction #yugioh season 0 #Awakening fanfic #The Samaya Court

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