#sorry if this answer sucks I am just incapable of being a person thinking about it

[theloveinc]

bkg being an older dad is so <33 it's so cute when ppl write him in his 40s having a kid idk why but it's such a good concept n i luv it sm maybe it's just bc i like older men anyways bkg being 40 and having his first kid then next thing yk he's in his 50s n already had 5???? n the baku squad is like "how did this happen? we thought your spunk didn't work. 🤨"

AND older dad deku 💔💔 everyone thought he wasn't gonna have kids but when he's in his mid 40s he has his first kid and everyone is so shocked n surprised n the baby is the countries baby n everyone is so happy for y'all it's so <33

LITERALLY it’s one of my favorite dad concepts ever honestly🥺🥺🥺 I’m not sure if it’s obvious, but all dad bakugo stuff I write I’m imagining him as older when he has his first tbh. Another thing I could talk for years abt but I won’t bc I’m pretty sure I already have.

But LMAOOOO, the squad questioning him about it is so true!!! Cuz not only do they already have teenagers by this point, but he spent the past 15 years talking about how “kids aren’t that great!!!🙄” only to go back on his word the literal second his was born.

He honestly hatessss admitting they were right but when your second is on the way pretty soon after… yeah. He really has no choice ajdhdkj.

(Mostly just us lucky that the older kids like playing with your littles so much. Toting them around like any older siblings would).

I also think one argument for him having a lot of kids too is … he’s deffff super sentimental about it, so if you happen to pull out a newborn onesie when trying to put together outfits for the kids… he’s getting really emotional over it and it gets super easy to convince him to have another LOL. And ofc this ends up happening more than once.

(Just the other day I was thinking about that one tik tok someone sent me on IHB, about being able to make bakugo cry if you tease him w/ baby socks that don’t fit your toddler anymore.)

AND DEKU TOO….. It almost makes even more sense for him than bakugo, tho I really think they both have older dad vibes. Probably the thing happens where you’re pregnant at the exact same time as the other’s wife, and deku and bakugo are lowkey beefing over the fact that it happened for both of them literally… synchronized. Or at least about who’s baby is bigger hdhrjskdjkf. But it also ends up being good bc then they do have a cousin their own age, too🧡🧡🧡

Plus, yeah!!! The country’s baby…….. the country’s favorite dad, too😢 Hardly anyone would’ve predicted it about five years back, but as soon as you’re ready, there’s whole spreads on deku introducing your babby to the world cuz people just can’t get over it. And inko is so incredibly happy, too. Loves all three of you beyond words cuz she never thought she’d get to be a grandma🥺🥺🥺

I JUST ADORE THESE CONCEPTS SO MUCH!!!!

[estrellami-1]

Never Forgot

Based on this post.

Steve knew something was wrong when she ran out of the room, choking back tears.

He felt bad, felt like there was something missing, but he didn’t remember her. Thinking about it, he realized he didn’t really remember anything.

“Robin?” Dustin asked when she all but ran out of the hospital room.

She stifled a sob and collapsed onto the bench next to him, holding a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Dustin, he… he doesn’t remember me.”

Dustin took a deep breath and very carefully did not freak out. “Okay. You stay here, I’ll go talk to him. See if we can shake it loose or something.” He rolled his eyes at the look she gave him. “Not literally, Buckley, jeez. Keep your pants on.”

He squared his shoulders and walked into the hospital room. Steve looked fine, if tired—hospital lighting never did anyone any favors—but the absent smile he sent Dustin spoke volumes. “Hi,” he said quietly, stilted in a way he never was anymore. Not with Dustin. “Um, can you apologize to her for me? She seemed really upset and I’m not sure what I did but I think it’s my fault.”

Dustin sighed and sat in the chair by Steve’s hospital bed. “You really don’t remember her, huh.” It wasn’t a question, so Steve didn’t answer. “And I’m guessing you don’t remember me, either?”

Steve picked at the blanket on his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus fuck,” Dustin whispered, screwing his eyes shut. “Don’t apologize, Jesus, it’s not your fault. It just… sucks.”

Steve snorted. “Imagine waking up and only remembering one person.”

Dustin looked up at him sharply. “One person?”

Steve shrugged. “Guess I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if I didn’t, yeah.”

“Boyfriend?” Dustin blinked. “Steve, you’re not dating anyone.”

Steve frowned. “I am. Maybe you don’t know him? Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

“Eddie- Christ, Steve, of course I know Eddie, and you two aren’t dating. You’re, like, as straight as they come.”

“No- no, I am, I’m dating him, I’m- we’re-”

“Whoa, okay, hold up, calm down,” Dustin said, holding his hands out. “It’s fine, dude, okay, we’ll figure it out later but I don’t think you should be stressing this hard after just waking up.”

Steve hummed. “What, uh. What actually happened to me?”

Dustin sighed. “The doctors said your body essentially performed a hard reset. You’ve been running on fumes for too long. You collapsed from sheer exhaustion. At least you didn’t hit your head this time, though maybe that would’ve prevented you from losing your memory, so who fuckin’ knows.”

“Language,” Steve chided, then blinked when Dustin looked at him excitedly. “I don’t know where that came from.”

Dustin just laughed. It was only a little forced. “You’re just incapable of not being a mom.”

——————————

Robin went back in next, lightly tapping Dustin’s shoulder as she passed him in the doorway. He shook his head, and her heart sank. “He-” Dustin shook his head, bit his lip. “He thinks he and Eddie are dating. Eddie’s the only person he remembers.”

Robin gave him a little half-smile. “He’s had a crush on Eddie for a while. I didn’t realize it was this bad, but.” She shrugged. “I’ll talk to him. You call everyone else?”

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath and walked into the room. “So,” she started. “You really don’t remember?”

Steve shook his head, eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

“Dustin said you remember one person?”

“Mhm. Eddie.”

“Right. And you and Eddie? What are you?”

Steve frowned even deeper. “Boyfriends. If we’re this close, shouldn’t you know that?”

Robin shrugged. “I’d like to think so. That’s why Dustin and I aren’t convinced you are dating. Maybe your memories are just… really vivid daydreams.”

“You really think so?”

Robin sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to think, Steve. Hell, I didn’t even know how bad it was until you collapsed. Some soulmate I am.”

“With a capital P,” Steve said, holding up a hand before Robin could say anything. “Sometimes certain memories are triggered. It’s… like a puzzle piece slotting into place. But I’ve got about a million more pieces missing. I can’t see what that specific piece connects to.”

Robin hums. “Okay. So you remember Eddie. And if I say Hellfire..?” Steve just frowned. “Or… Metallica?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I know that one.”

“Did you know that before I said it?”

Steve nodded. “Hellfire’s related to Eddie?”

Robin chuckled. “You could say that.”

“What is it?”

She laughed again. “I think I’ll let your boyfriend explain that one.”

“Even though you don’t believe we’re dating.”

Robin spread her hands. “Soulmates with a capital P, Steve. I can’t think of any reason you wouldn’t at least tell me. Especially since you know—err, knew—I’m a lesbian.”

Steve frowned. “Maybe Eddie didn’t want to? Does he know?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.” He frowned again. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers. Especially now. Just… think about it, yeah?”

“I will,” he promised. “Um. Are you okay?”

“Jesus, Steve.” Robin laughed. It was only mostly hysterical. “Of course you’d still be thinking about everyone else. I’m fine. Or- I will be. You just take care of yourself, dingus.”

He chuckled. “Will do, Robbie.”

She sighed. “Another puzzle piece?” He nodded. “Alright. I’m gonna go track down Dustin and see where he’s at with all the other ankle-biters.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She lingered for a half-second, then sighed again and walked out.

——————————

He was released two days later. Drove himself home, Robin in the passenger seat and Dustin in the back row. Dustin quizzed him about the rest of the Party the whole way home, made sure Steve knew their names forwards, backwards and upside down, as well as what everyone was like. “Max is kickass,” he said. “Like, she’ll absolutely smile in your face as she knees you in the balls. And it’s the kinda smile that strikes fear into a man. She’s awesome. And-”

“Okay,” Steve said, amused. He didn’t know how Dustin could go that long without a breath. “I’ll know what you’re talking about as soon as we get out of the car and get inside, right?”

Dustin yelped when he looked up to see them parked before scrambling out the door and running inside.

Steve grinned at Robin, who grinned back, before they made their way inside, albeit at a slower pace than Dustin had.

Steve vaguely recognized everybody, but his attention focused in on a very specific person. “Eds.”

Eddie smiled, small and soft and sweet, one of Steve’s favorites. “Heya, Stevie.”

Suddenly he couldn’t help himself. He had to be with Eddie, right then, it couldn’t wait, so he didn’t. Practically flung himself at Eddie, like he knew Eddie would catch him (he did). Attaches his mouth to Eddie’s, a silent promise, I never forgot you, flowing between them.

When they pulled back, Eddie stared at him like he’d hung the fucking sun. “You remember?” Eddie asked in a whisper.

“Never forgot,” Steve promised, at the same volume.

“What. The actual. Fuck,” Robin said. Eddie and Steve froze as they turned to face her and the rest of the Party, who were all staring with the same expression.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered. “We forgot to tell Robin.”

[whenemmafallsinlove]

hi besties. i definitely planned to take a longer break than this, and didn't post that i was taking a break to be dramatic or anything (although i hope after so many years of blogging on this hellsite, y'all know me better than that)... but i finally logged on my computer to turn off anonymous asks and block all the hate anons and saw everything you guys have said to me. this is gonna be a long post so do the lil keep reading if ya care!

words cannot express how much all the dm's ive gotten, you guys have sent to briley for me, the asks, and the things you've said to kristin in my defense mean to me. i truly just cannot put it in words. i can't. this has been the darkest couple of weeks for me in this fandom - ever. truly. the hate started a couple of weeks ago over something completely unrelated and every day i thought it couldn't get worse and every day it has. i've told kristin and briley (my girlfriend) multiple times that i've had hate on tumblr before, but it truly does NOT compare to what i've had on twitter these past couple of days + the asks sent to me by twitter users thanks to the one person who pushed people to "be creative" in anon.

i'm doing my best to get back to each and every one of you personally. i'll be answering asks privately only to prevent clogging of the dashboard because i truly feel horrible that i've just been coming on here to bitch and moan about how this hate is affecting me. and i just don't want people to think i'm seeking attention, because i'm not.

it's been a hard year. some of you may remember my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer earlier this year. so that's been challenging (she's doing amazingly after her mastectomy though! it's just still. tricky to navigate.)

fandom was always my escape. even the occasional times we had drama on here.. it sucked, and then we all moved on, because by and large we are capable of nuance on this website. as a friend who i'm not sure if she would prefer to remain anonymous or not wisely advised me, twitter is incapable of nuance. i am hopeful i will feel safe enough to return there someday (and who knows, maybe i'll be popping in from time to time there too - i've received so much support there as well) but never in teh open capacity that i can be my nuanced self on here with you guys.

this site is special. you guys are special. i feel like a fucking drama queen and i'm sorry for all this shit. i love you guys. thanks for being my friends.

[parkers-gal]

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

want more? my masterlist.

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th + pp taglist: @spideyspeaches @strawberrytom (no smut) @turtletaylor98 @parkerpeterparker2004 @peterbenjiparker @kelieah​

permanent taglist: @mayrapreciado20​ @tomhollandlol @roseke​ @supremethunda​ @wonderfulfluffer​ @farfromtommy​ @mamaparker28​ (no smut/tw) @pxxerfect​ (no smut) @seutarose @pixiedustsupplyco​ @itssmadelyn​ @white-wolf1940​ @woopwoopwoop222 @chrisosterfield​ (no tw)

th taglist: @lmaotshollandd

[trumpkinhotboy]

All in good time

Pairing: Jacob Black x f!reader

Type: Not requested

Genre: Kinda fluffy i'd say

Warnings: None!

Rating: g

Requests: Open (for Narnia and Twilight, maybe?😳)

A/n: Alright, alright, I know I said this blog was going to be centralized on Narnia stuff, but lately I've really gotten back in my Twilight phase🥴 Plus, I had a really shitty week and needed a pick me up. Jacob is one of my biggest comfort characters so I felt it was only suiting. I hope you'll enjoy it😬 I suggest reading this while listening to any kind of Twilight ambiance playlist.☺Also, I know my title sucks HAHA. Couldn't think of anything better so yea, I'm sorry, but this is what you get

Update: changed my title huhu!

* gif is not mine!!

There were days that just deeply and inherently... sucked. Days where everything seemed out of rhythm, where no matter how hard you tried, it all seemed wrong; it all fell apart.

Today was one of those days. When your dad jokingly said: "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." you did not think it the tiniest of bit funny. When you opened one of the kitchen cabinets to get your favorite brand of cereals and found an empty box, you almost threw a full-on seven-year-old crying on the floor tantrum. Especially when you saw the half-emptied bowl sitting in the sink. Too bad, no breakfast for you this morning. Ridiculous, immature, and not changing anything? Yes, of course, but you still did it out of pure spite. As if that would punish anyone else than you.

Like any other day in Forks, it was raining, nothing awful here, if it was not for the fact that the window on the driver’s side hadn’t been properly closed. Your seat was by now totally drenched. With your pants completely soaked you rode to school, your knuckles turning white from angrily gripping the wheel. Once you arrived, it seemed that everyone was annoyingly happy and enthusiastic while you just couldn’t get out of your personal, unchangeable, black cloud. Not to help, your friends only kept making fun of your moody behavior. Could you not be taken seriously on one of your worst days?

In your least favorite class, you were horrified to see written in big letters on the board:

“20% exam!! Leave your personal effects in front of the class.”

You would have run away if it wasn’t for the flow of students coming in to push you further in the classroom. Convinced the exam was for the next week, you did not even open the pages of your manual concerning the subject. It is with panic and exasperation that you sat at your desk waiting for your doom. Did you need to add that along with all that bull crap of a day, the only person who could have made your day a little less annoying was, once again missing. No calls, no texts, no news, nothing. Probably on another mission with the rest of his mutant gang. You got to the Rez after school, hoping you would see him, but were only welcomed by Leah and Seth. It almost felt like they were waiting for you as they were sitting outside of Billy’s house. Why they were the only ones left here was a mystery for you. The pack usually always stayed together.

- “Where are the others?”

- “On some kind of mission around the lands.”

- “Is everything alright?” They nodded nonchalantly. “Then why are you two here?”

The answer Seth gave you while chewing loudly on yet, another snack, made you grith your teeth so hard he thought they were going to fall out of your mouth.

- “To protect you.”

- “I thought it was nothing, so why would I need protection?”.

- “You should talk about it with Black. He’s the one who ordered us to stay to watch over you or something.”

- “I am PERFECTLY capable of WATCHING OVER MYSELF.” you answered a little louder than expected, anger rumbling in your chest. That earned you some awkward looks from your two friends, but at this point, it didn’t even matter, you were seeing red.

Leah, never intimated by you, shrugged her shoulders. Seth looking a little bit more nervous still laughed at your display of anger. Jacob was the one assigning babysitters over you? Of course, you and he would have a little discussion, that mutt would not see it coming.

When you got back home, you called your father to warn him; there was no way you would be cooking dinner. With your luck, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you burnt the whole house down. Fortunately, he was in good mood (unfair) and answered there was no problem; he would get pizza. He got home with the box in hand and a “Hey sweet...heart”. One quick look at your rough appearance and frustrated expression and his mouth closed shut. He dropped politely, almost carefully, a plate with a slice of pizza before quickly leaving for the couch. You mostly played with the food, incapable of swallowing it down, looking at the forest many times, waiting, expecting to see a tall figure appear on its verge but nothing. Time passed, still no sign of life. There was no way that by now Leah or Seth didn’t give him your message. You had time to wash the dishes, do some homework, and get in your sweats. At 7:30 pm you gave up; he wasn’t coming. Your father was still watching TV, completely oblivious to your growing anger. You picked up his plate to put it in the sink but tripped and dropped it, the delicate plate exploded into a thousand pieces.

- “Y/n? Everything okay?”

- “Y..ea.. an accident. I’ll pick it up.”

There was a slight tremolo in your voice. That was it. Your day had been terrible with no sign of sun, and this broken plate would be your breaking point as ridiculous as it sounded. You leaned on the counter, head hanging low, feeling tears of frustration swelling up in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you looked up; in a second you were out the back door.

- “Where you going?” you heard your father ask.

- “Getting the trash out.”

The figure backed in the woods as you rushed into them without hesitation. You smacked against something big and warm, warmer than it was normal to be, yet you had become quite accustomed to it.

- “You little piece of shit.” your index finger digging in his chest. “You weren’t even here today, and it was terrible, and you can’t do this. I do not need any PROTECTION. Oh my god, do you really think I am weak and helpless without you or Leah or Seth or ANY werewolf to protect me?!”

He didn’t interrupt your monologue, only looking at you spitting your anger out.

- “You are SO annoying. Honestly who- who do you think you- are?! I’m- I am not, I can DEFINITELY, I don’t ne-eed any-one.” Your speech was becoming less and less coherent, your emotions taking control of your mind.

Without waiting any longer for you to finish your incoherent thought, he pulled you in for one of his signature bear hugs.

- “You can’t do this to me I’m an-ang-angry...”.

- “Shhh, it’s okay.”

- “You-you weren’t there.” you gave up fighting him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

- “I’m sorry, Leah told me.”

- “Wh- why didn’t you come sooner?” you continued, sobbing.

- “Some wolf things, Paul got in trouble.“ you backed off, immediately lifting your head at the mention of one of your friends in trouble.

- “Is he okay?”

- “Of course, he is, but Sam was very upset this time.” he stroked the side of your face with a small smile. “Enough with the boys, tell me what's wrong.”

- “Everything. I left my car window opened my seat was drenched. At school, everyone was disgustingly happy and in a good mood. I did not know I had an exam, I didn’t even study the subject. And this morning, my dad half ate the rest of my favorites cereals, and then I didn’t eat anything else as a silent protest, I know that’s stupid, but”

- “You didn’t eat anything else?”

- “Yeah, but I…” you lifted your gaze to meet his disapproving one. “I mean, I must have eaten a snack at lunch today…”

- “Must have?” he looked angrier.

- “Y/n??? Where are you??”

The calling of your father interrupted your conversation; he looked in its direction.

- “You should go back inside before your dad comes out.”

- “What? No, please. Can’t you kidnap me for tonight?” he chuckled lightly.

- “Trust me, go back in, okay?”

You looked at him unsure, even though you knew he was worthy of your trust. You finally nodded before running back inside.

- “What took you so long?”

- “Oh, uh, I thought I saw something and got a little carried away.”

- “Mokay, I don’t like you being so close to the woods. We’ve still had a few complaints about some trekkers finding traces of big animals in the woods. I’d prefer you be careful, alright?” You held up a smile, thinking about your friend just outside.

- “Sure.”

You stayed in the middle of the living room, expecting, waiting to see Jacob’s next move. You expected something quick, but when ten minutes later, there were still no signs of him, you felt frustration rising again. Not sure what to do now, you sat next to your father, half paying attention to what was happening on the screen. If he just left you, he was going to pay for it. You needed him, and just like that, he was gone? Probably, got called away by Sam again. Maybe it wasn’t in his control? But if it was…

Knock. Knock.

You looked up, surprised. The door opened with a creaking sound.

- “Oh, Jacob. Hi, what are you doing here?”

- “Hi Charlie, I heard Y/n had a pretty bad day. Came to kidnap her, if that's okay?”

- “Bad day? That’s an understatement. I swear, at one point, I thought she was going to scream at me. I ate her last bowl of cereal this morning; the thing was disgusting, I only ate half of it. I don’t think that helped.” You heard your friend’s low chuckle. Your dad seemed to feel pretty guilty about his crime, which did make you feel a tad bit better. “But yeah sure. Y/n! You have a visitor.”

You walked to them, Jacob awkwardly fitting in your small house; he seemed so disproportionate with his imposing size. For once, he was wearing actual clothes, a shirt and a pair of jeans, a sign he wasn’t planning on having to transform tonight. A sign that he was planning on being entirely dedicated to you.

- “Ready to go? I’m kidnaping you.” He said that last part with a smirk, a hint to your previous request.

- “Sure.” You grabbed your coat, said goodbye to your dad, and left without waiting any longer.

First, he took you away to get some food in you. It wasn’t until your teeth were digging inside a delicious burger that you realized just how hungry you were. Jacob being the glutton that he is, ordered two cheeseburgers along with a pack of large fries. You went for a milkshake, the perfect dessert for a night like this, and took your victuals to the La Push beach. It was empty and peaceful; the sun was slowly going down, the wind just a whisper in the night. It wasn’t even that cold, but the excuse to snuggle into Jake’s wolfish warmth was too good to pass.

- “Feeling better?” he asked while wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

- “Yes. Thanks, Jake.”

- “Kidnapping mission was a success?”

- “Yes, it was.” You answered with a smile.

- “Alright.” He muttered under his breath, looking in the distance.

You stayed for a while in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the other’s presence.

- “So, what were you saying about me not being there today, like that made your day worst?”

His question took you by surprise. A look at his cocky expression was all it took you to punch him in the ribs as hard as you could.

- “You wish idiot.”

He laughed at your attack, he probably didn't even feel a thing but leveled his face with yours in all seriousness.

- “You can avoid this conversation for now since you had a shit day and all, but keep in mind, it’s not over.”

- “And you keep in mind that our discussion about you ordering werewolves to stay behind to protect me, is not over. You won’t get away easily with that one Black.”

He laughed again, visibly amused with your threat. You laughed too but were slightly less amused. These two conversations were important ones, although one you apprehended way more. You looked at Jacob's happy expression and felt a fuzzy feeling warming your body. No, right now was not the time for such serious topics.

All in good time, right?

...

Tagging my two gals because they know how nervous I was😭...@imjustdreamingig @gonzalezyon I did it gals🥺 I hope you'll like it, thank you so much for your support💕💕

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 1

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack warnings: lots of swear words  wc: 4.8k 

a/n: 

Thank you @tokyosdawn​ and @oii-sugasan​ for the betaread!

As always, let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. 

Prologue || masterlist

You notice an unfamiliar presence by the entrance. You stare at them for some time from your seat to see if they’ll leave, but after a few minutes of them standing idly there, you decide to deal with them.

“How may I help you?”

You cross your arms as soon as you reach the entrance. It’s a green-haired guy with freckles wearing casual clothes. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him somewhere. You study him, scrutinizing his build from the loose hoodie, which didn’t give anything away, down to his denim pants which verifies your hunch.

Yep. Most likely a volleyball player. 

You probably saw him play somewhere before if he’s familiar, but you haven’t seen him in any recent games.

“I’m sorry, but this gym is closed for training,” you announce strictly. You’re not sure if he's actually from other teams, but you’re not taking any chances. You can’t have people spying on your players. Never mind that this guy is doing a bad job of making it discreet.

“Oh, sorry,” he gives you a panicked apology which doesn’t decrease your suspicion one bit. “I’m Tsukki’s friend. I just came by to return his headphones.”

Tsu...kki?

You hear Kogane use that name for Tsukishima all the time but hearing it from this guy sounds different. It’s very warm and pleasant to the ears. 

“Tsukki,” you test it out with your own lips, liking the way it rolls out your tongue.

“Yeah. Tsukishima? Is he here?” the green-haired guy asks, thinking you don’t know who this ‘Tsukki’ is.

It’s decided. From now on, you’ll call him Tsukki too. Oohhh, you can’t wait to see how he’ll react as you roll the nickname of your tongue with your very own ‘pleasantness’ reserved only for Tsukishima.

But more importantly...

You scan the green-haired guy again as he takes out something from his bag; white Sony headphones. It’s Tsukishima’s alright. He always has the thing on his neck whenever he comes to the gym, when he leaves, and on bus rides during tournaments. It’s like his part of his anatomy.

Thinking back, it was no wonder he looked off you to you when he came in that afternoon -- he didn’t have his headphones around his neck.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. He’s not answering his phone, so I waited. If you don’t mind, can you give this to him?” the guy  asks while handing the headphones at you with a very kind smile and a faint blush that accentuated his freckles.

This is Tsukishima’s friend? This is his friend? For real? How can someone so adorable and nice be his friend? Not that Tsukishima is incapable of making friends, but this guy here is so timid, adorable, kind, and everything Tsukishima isn’t. 

“I’m sorry. What’s your name again?” A subtle smile forms on your face from how interesting this friend of Tsukishima’s is. 

“Uhh. Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi? You’re positive you’ve heard that name somewhere. You rack your memory on where you could have possibly seen him from.

You clap your hands in realization. “Yamaguchi! Captain of Karasuno, the float server. Oh my God, I am so sorry for being so rude earlier.”

He seems surprised as well that you know him. You didn’t remember it immediately because it was years ago, but even in high school, you’ve followed volleyball teams that you find interesting. So when you became a manager, the players of the teams weren’t really new to you. 

“Do you still play?” you ask out of curiosity since he’s not in your grid. 

“For fun, yeah,” he responds, laughing nervously.

Oh my. That’s so precious of him. You walk closer towards him until you’re at his side. You rest a hand on his shoulder and lean a bit closer. “Do you mind if I call you, Yams?”

Yamaguchi flusters from your touch. Earlier, you were so scary, looking like you wanted to throw him out of the gym. Now, you’re suddenly too close with an overly friendly smile.

“S-sure,” he agrees out of the domineering aura you give off despite the nice smile you have. 

“Cool!”

He can tell you’re really pleased, but he doesn’t know why.

“We’re cutting practice today because our coach is out. You can wait for him inside if you want.” you offer nicely to which he accepts.

You must be the manager Tsukki is talking about, Yamaguchi thinks. You’re not at all what he expected. Granted, he based only off of Tsukki’s explicit and detailed descriptions of how ‘detestable’ you are. You were a bit stern a while ago but he can understand that because he was practically a stranger.

You’re a bit weird, sure, but you’re not as evil as his best friend says you are. It’s actually nice of you to let him come in. Tsukki always tells him not to go there because visitors aren’t allowed. 

“Can I ask your name as well?” He asks hesitantly.

“Oh right! My bad. I’m y/n. I’m their manager.” You stop in one of the benches and sit. You beckon him to join you.

“So, how long have you been friends with Tsukishima?” You ask while watching the team with their spiking drills. 

“We’ve been best friends since middle school.” 

You raise one eyebrow and break into a wide smile even with your watchful gaze focused on the team. He can’t tell if it’s because of him or you saw something mirthful. “Ahhh. I see.” 

“How’s he doing here?” Yamaguchi asks, curious to know what you think of Tsukki.

“Great! I’ve seen him play in high school and I thought he’s really smart. But being his manager? He’s a fucking piece of work. He finds it fun when he says something sarcastic to others. He sucks at team spirit. Everyone will be hyped as heck and he’d just be standing there giving us nothing. I have to manhandle him 90% of the time, and he despises me with a passion because of it.” You simper with your last statement. 

Yamaguchi wonders how Tsukki would react about being ‘manhandled.’ However, from what he can tell, you don’t actually despise Tsukki. On the contrary, your eyes twinkled with amusement as you talked about him, despite the sharpness of your words..

You settle down with a smile as you fixate your eyes on the subject of the conversation. 

“Honestly though, I think he’s a great player. He’s disciplined. When he’s at his best during matches, I could just kiss his big brain from the consistent smart plays he does. And between you and me, Yams. Behind those uncaring, dead eyes he has, I know he loves it here. He loves the sport.”

Yamaguchi is astounded at how profound your understanding of his best friend’s personality is. But yeah, he can see why Tsukki doesn’t like you. Tsukishima didn’t like the mere prospect of being ‘put in line.’

“Oh look. They’re done now. Let’s go call your friend.”

You cup your palms around your lips and take in a deep breath. “Tsukki!” 

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima both flinch when you suddenly yell.

Tsukishima shudders at how nauseating his nickname resonated from your pretentious, frilly voice. He could tell right away that it was you. He could recognize that tone from anywhere. In the three years you’ve been the manager, you never called him that. 

So why now?

He turns around to see what your deal is today, only to find you beaming with one hand in the air eagerly waving at him, and beside you is…Yamaguchi?

Yamaguchi joins you in waving at him. Your obnoxiousness and the obliviousness of his friend makes it even more odious. He should be used to it by now, but you always come up with more annoying antics to bug him with. 

“Tsukki!!” You call out again. “Your best friend is here.” You announce with all smiles. 

What the hell? Why did Yamaguchi tell you that? Knowing you, you’d find ways to use it against him. As if calling him by that nickname isn’t enough.

He lengthens his strides to your direction, and even though he’s trying his best to look unbothered, you know he is. It’s pretty easy for you to tell. After all, you’ve been observing every member so carefully to the point that you can pick up the changes in their demeanor and facial expression. Especially, Tsukki who was a pain in the ass in your first year of being a manager. You had to watch him more closely than others ‘cause aside from his well thought sarcasm, there’s literally nothing else you could get from him.

Having your eyes on him for three years, you became aware of the little changes in his front, like that barely noticeable scowl in the corner of lips and the slight squint of his eyes. 

He’s pissed. 

Oh lord. Why must Tsukishima be so goddamn entertaining? It’s even funnier that he doesn’t acknowledge you at all, turning his complete attention to his friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you’re smiling.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks Yamaguchi disinterestedly. 

“He came here to return your headphones,” you answer on behalf of Yamaguchi. Tsukishima gives you only one quick glance before turning to his freckled visitor. “Let’s go. We’re done with training today.” Then he walks away to the lockers. 

Yamaguchi stands abruptly and bows to you. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

You wave at him amicably. “Nice to meet you too, Yams.”

Tsukishima wished he didn’t hear that. Yamaguchi visits one time and you give him a nickname already? 

“She’s not that bad,” Yamaguchi comments once they’re out of the gym.

“Yeah. She’s worse.” He’d like to tell his friend not to interact with you, but what Yamaguchi does is not up to him. He can only warn him. “Don’t be swayed by her smiling face. She looks dumb, but something’s going on in her head all the time.” 

“She’s very pretty.”

He looks at Yamaguchi with a vexed frown. “So? That doesn’t change anything.”

Yamaguchi laughs nervously. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, it doesn’t. I just noticed.” He’s not going to deny that, but to him, that superficial shit doesn’t matter. You are a repugnant presence when you want to be, and that’s all he can ever associate your face with.

“I think she’s really looking out for the team though,” Yamaguchi points out. 

“I don’t wanna talk about her anymore.” He doesn’t need any more reminder of what he’s very much aware of. He doesn’t want to think about you when he doesn’t have to. Your presence already plagues him enough when you’re present. 

“Sorry! Anyways, I’m meeting with Yachi tonight. Wanna come?”

He wouldn’t mind going, but he has plans for tonight. “Can’t. I have a group project I have to finish.”

“It’s fine! Next time then.”

—

This is why Tsukishima hates group projects. He should’ve done the whole thing himself. Instead, he’s in a crowded bar (Or is it a club? He can’t tell the difference. Not that it matters anyway.) looking for his groupmate who thought it was best to put the data in a flash drive instead of uploading them somewhere he can access.

He can’t count the number of times someone has bumped on him. The place reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. He has trouble seeing because the lights are too dim. His ears hurt from the loud music banging on every corner.

He dials the number of his teammate again. One more unanswered call and he’s doing the project on his own from scratch.  It doesn’t matter if that means staying up all night because of it. He’d rather do that than stay in this foul place any longer than he should.

He navigates through the clusters of people, trying to spot his groupmate while ringing their phone. It’s a good thing he’s tall. If he isn’t, he’d be swept up by this sea of drunk party-goers by now.

His eyes scan the place for the millionth time, still listening to the endless ringing from his phone when he spots something in the crowd.

It’s not his groupmate however, but an oddball wearing a onesie pajama, looking completely out of place. The hood of the cloth is clad over half of their face but he has a very bad feeling who they are.

And just as he thought, you reveal your own face by pushing back the hood previously hiding it.

He’s not surprised you’re in this lame gathering organized by a fraternity in the university. But he’s not happy about it either. 

That’s it. He’s going home and he'll do the project himself. He can’t let you see him there.

Just as he’s about to step away, a guy starts getting handsy on you while you’re talking to another girl. You must have noticed it too because even though you keep conversing with the girl, you also keep swatting the hands of the guy.

Tsukishima is frozen in place. There is a busy tone on his cell now, but he doesn’t press redial right away. Right now, he’s deciding whether he should intervene or not. 

It isn’t like what you do or what happens to you outside the court is any of his business. Plus, he doesn’t want to get involved with you. Ever . But… something about the scene unfolding in front of him ticks him off. It is common sense that people should be left alone when they want to be left alone. But this imbecile… rather than being discouraged, the pervert becomes even more persistent. 

He steps closer to the scene pushing through the crowd. He decides to ‘nicely’ tell the perv off. You’re annoying, but you don’t deserve being harassed. But before he even gets close enough to cut in, you face the guy and shock everyone near you by giving the guy a well-executed jab on the face. 

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing and stares at you. Impressive, knowing how occupied everyone had been. Tsukishima doesn’t particularly like violence, but fuck . That was one mean hook delivered nicely on the guy’s lousy face. 

“I SAID FUCK OFF!” you shout at the guy who fell on his ass from your punch. The music was loud but because everyone froze from how you just sent a guy flying, your voice was heard. You take a deep breath and comb your hair back, glaring at the staring crowd.

Suddenly...

“YEAH!!” The place roars with cheers for you as you break into a wide smile for everyone. The bass drops and everyone is dancing around once more.

He sighs. Why did he even think you needed help? You manage a bunch of boys almost everyday. Good for him though. At least he didn’t have to interact with you and he can go home now. 

Or not.

Before he can make his retreat, your eyes meet - his full of charin and yours full of zest. You disregard whoever you’re talking to earlier, pushing everyone aside to reach him.

Tsukishima thinks that maybe he should have ran away when he had the chance. Maybe he could even have pretended to not see you.

Anyway, it is too late now.

“Oh my God. It really is you, Tsukki!” Your eyes are wide from disbelief and amusement from his presence in the place. “You actually go to these places?!”

He hasn’t answered yet, but you already cut him off by suddenly screaming when the song changed. “I LOVE THIS SONG!” He’s sure you weren’t talking to him. You were regarding the area eagerly like you were talking to everybody who’s there. 

Then you start moving weirdly. You’re swaying your hips in a one second late from the beat of the music. You’re banging your head side to side while you’re flailing your arms all over the place. You look like a fledgling who was just thrown out of the nest. 

“Are you supposed to be dancing?” He asks but you don’t hear it.

You look so horrendous that he’s getting secondhand embarrassment from the people around giving you second glances. This is his chance to get sarcastic with you, but you look like you won’t be ashamed of anything even if he does say something about that ghastly display of body movements. 

“C’mon Tsukki!” You grab his wrist and give him the unfortunate experience of ‘dancing’ with you while he stays completely still while you randomly swing his limb from one point to another. 

You don’t take Tsukishima as a person who’d go to parties. You don’t even have any clue as to what his idea of having fun is. You peg him to be someone who prefers the quiet rather than the chaos. Saying that seeing him here is surprising, is an understatement.

Even though you like seeing your players all serious with training, you want them to have a balanced lifestyle, especially those who are working or studying. Since there is no training tomorrow, you don’t mind seeing him here being a normal college student.

You take a peek at Tsukishima to see if he’s having a blast like you are, but only sees him standing still with an inconvenienced expression. You stop dancing and burst out laughing. Amidst all the people grooving around, he sticks out like a sore thumb because of his height and his evident discontent in being here. It’s like he’s a very tall building mistakenly built in the middle of a lively forest. 

You didn’t have the wrong impression of him. You’re spot on as you witness him getting even more displeased by the minute. 

You release his hand and put both of yours on your hips with a regaled smile. “What are you even doing here?!” 

He rolls his eyes, but he looks relieved that you finally stopped dancing. He mumbles something but is drowned out by the chatters and the loud music. “Sorry, what?!” He should know that the only reason he can hear you is because you’re basically yelling. At this rate, you expect him to walk out already. 

What you don’t  expect is for him to lean down with his mouth just an inch away from your ear. You instantly inhale his scent. You can tell that he hasn’t been here too long. He smells like citrus with a hint of mint, while everyone else smells like sweat and alcohol with a hint of vomit. You vaguely wonder what you smell like right now.

You’ve always pestered him, but this is the closest you two have been, so this is the first time you’re acquainted with his scent and find that you like it. You’ve never liked men with strong musky scents. You prefer it like this - refreshing and comforting, especially in this smoke-infested club.

“I’m looking for a classmate,” he whispers in your ear then quickly retreats back to his stoic standing position. Oh, of course. What are you suddenly flustered for? It’s much easier on your throat to be whispering than shouting your words. Yes, yes. You can really rely on Tsukishima for brainpower. 

You place your hands on his shoulder and tiptoe to reach his ear. Doing so, you only manage to reach his neck. He’s so tall that you had to gently tug him down a bit so he’d be able to hear you. 

“Who are you looking for? I know everyone here,” you mutter next to his cheeks. You retain your position so he wouldn’t have to repeat leaning and standing up from talking to you. But instead of answering your question, he slightly turns his neck to look at you, making your faces only centimeters apart.

Tsukishima thought you’re going to keep squawking your words like you were doing earlier. He didn’t think you’d mirror his action. It should’ve been a strange scenario with you gaping at him this close, but you two remain focused on each other with confusion and a hint of something completely foreign reflecting in both your eyes — a certain spark of attraction that shouldn’t have been there and neither of your expected. 

A miniscule hint of panic shows itself in your eyes, and in this proximity, Tsukishima doesn’t fail to notice it. You instantly take your hands off of him, planting your heels back on the floor to create a safe distance from him. 

You don’t completely falter though. You still have that stupid grin on your face, but he knows it’s forced.

There it is -- something he’s been waiting three years for. He waited for the moment that you’d show an opening that he could pick on and exploit as payback for the many times you’ve gotten on his nerves, but he didn’t anticipate it would be something like this. He wanted to see what riles you up and to be able to  tease you nonstop about it until he makes you uncomfortable the way you make him. 

Yet something tells him that he shouldn’t. As much as he wants to see that smile of yours completely stripped off and reduce you to flustered shambles, flirting with you isn’t how he’d do it. It doesn’t sit well with him. 

Still, he also wouldn’t scream his lungs out for you. So he dips down again, leveling his mouth against your ear. “Hiro Takahashi. He’s from our Herpetology class. Seen him?” He doesn't stand up straight as he waits for you to answer so you wouldn’t have any reason to touch him again.

He feels you nod, the soft skin of your cheek grazing against his. You murmur something but your voice is too low that even with the short distance, he doesn’t hear it very well. “Louder. I can’t hear you.”

But you don’t comply. Rather than raising your voice, you nestle your face closer to his. “Yeah. I saw him a while ago. I’ll help you look for him.”

He heard it, but his whole attention was on how warm your breath is and how your lips are ghosting over his ear. He feels goosebumps at the back of his neck and his mind starts reeling.

Fuck this. He should have started the project on his own. He shouldn’t have gone here. He should’ve left the moment he saw you. He shouldn’t be having this stupid interaction where you’re at a spitting distance. And even if you are, he shouldn’t be this affected . 

He hears rumbles of footsteps behind him accompanied by reverberating male voices which he couldn’t make sense of. “Going through!” Someone shouts but he hears it late, resulting in him getting knocked over when they pass by. 

He wouldn’t have staggered if not for you who was snuggled in front of him, which results in his footing faltering from the impact. He grabs your waist and pulls you to him to make sure you don’t fall over when you collide with him. Your reflexes probably kicked in as well as you wrap one arm around his neck and while your other hand clutches his shoulder.

“Shit!” He hisses on your temples. He would never go to a party again, even if someone pays him to do it. 

It was already bad when you two were only whispering to each other. Having your body pressed against his is three times worse. He doesn’t like anything about this, yet he can’t take his hands away from you. The crowd has long passed and the party rages on around you. He expects you to do something about it, push him away or say something stupid to irk him even more like you always do. 

You loosen your grip on him, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. And when you do, he realizes instantly that you’re held captive by whatever’s happening right now between the two of you. Your face is too close and goddamn, everyone was right. You really are pretty, especially right now that your mouth is shut. Even in the dim lighting he can see it -- the captivating spark in your eyes, your nose, and the shape of your lips.

He wets his lips unconsciously, all too aware of the warmth of your skin against his neck, and the curve of your hips against his palm.

He tries to quiet the havoc in his head. You’re adamant to not date anyone from the team. Surely, that meant not getting into anything remotely physical with them as well. So whatever the hell this is, you certainly won’t allow it to happen. Not that he wants it to happen. It’s just that you should really get the fuck out of his hold already. 

“Tsukishima,” you mutter his name with dangerous uncertainty that alerts all his senses, rendering him to dread the next words that will come out of your mouth with anticipation.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Even like this, you’re still the sly person he knows you are. By asking him that, you’re going to make him an accomplice in your own disobedience of the rule you, yourself, strictly imposed. 

As if he’ll agree to that. Did you really think he’d go along with this just because you look slightly more adorable this close to him with your doe eyes gleaming with apprehension as you wait for his answer? Of course not. Nothing about this is appealing, not even the way your lips are parted slightly as if you’re deliberately luring him in. 

He must have taken too long to respond because reluctance takes over whatever ounce of boldness you had about the situation. The shame your question brought gradually settles in your face.

He realizes right then that you’re just as conflicted as he is, so you start pulling away when he doesn’t say anything.

Rather than relief, he secures his grip on you to stop you from completely backing out. He replicates how you whispered into his ear, but purposely does it this time as he lets his lips rest on the shell of your ear, his next words going against every rational thought swimming in his head. Maybe it’s the atmosphere of this goddamn club, maybe it’s the way your body fits perfectly with his, or maybe it’s his own selfish curiosity getting the better of him, but he gives in. Against his better judgment, he gives in.

“Yeah. I can keep one, manager.” He hums grimly in your ear, intentionally stating that you’re their manager so you’re fully aware of what consequences these whispered nothings might have with your relationship.

You drag your face back just a little bit until your lips are just a breath away from his. Your eyes flick up to his just for one second as the unruly temptation lingers heavily around you two. 

Then you give in. 

He didn’t really know what he’s looking for when he agreed to this illogical spur of the moment tomfoolery, but at the first touch of your lips on his, he regrets it. He regrets it, but he doesn’t pull away. He didn’t have any expectations, but for fuck’s sake, you’re not supposed to taste this good. You certainly haven’t been drinking tonight. Your mouth tastes like honey and milk, coaxing him to nip on it further to have more. 

He’s seething. How can a pair of lips that spat a ton of shit be this fucking delicate. It doesn’t make sense. 

Your arm finds its way back around his neck while he draws you even closer as he waits for resentment or disgust to hit him, relentlessly sucking on the softness of your lips to find anything remotely unpleasant. But he finds neither. He only finds himself enjoying this despite the lack of privacy, the blasting music in the background, and the athlete-manager relationship he has with you.

He withdraws a bit, leaving you panting against his mouth. When you raise your gaze to him, he meets your bewildered orbs that even the dimmed blue led lights weren’t able to hide. 

Then your eyes drift behind him. 

You see something that instantly snaps you back to the wild persona he knows you have. Your whole body shudders when it sinks in your features what you two just did. You retrieve your arms quickly as if his skin burns yours.  

Your eyes are scorching with both embarrassment and determination when you grab his collar and yank him not so gently. “We tell no one about this shit!” You tell him aggressively and let him go instantly.

You put the hood of your onesie back and look down before gripping his shoulders to get him to turn around. 

A few steps away is the classmate he’s looking for. Before he calls for his irresponsible groupmate, he looks behind him to catch where you’re going, but you already disappeared. Even in this wretched place kilometers away from the gymnasium, you still manage to have the last word.

He fists his knuckles with anger. Out of all the maddening shit you put him through, this the worst.

Prologue || masterlist

Taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged):

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[mrsseverussnape]

Okay. So, first things first, OMG CONGRATULATIONS ON 500 AND YOU TOTALLY DESERVE IT AND SO MUCH MORE CAUSE YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING AND ILY SO MUCH. Ahem. Now that I've screamed that out (sorry not sorry), I decided to take part in the event :) You absolutely don't have to do all of them if it's too much, I just thought I'd give you options XD (pls do Apollo though cause I'm a musician and a huge sucker for playlists 🥺)

🦉Athena- Tell me your favourite Hogwarts class + give me an aesthetic and i will make a moodboard for you! (e.g.: Charms - dark academia)

I suck with aesthetics and don't know anything about them so why don't you this for you. I'd love to know ^_^ (only if you're comfortable)

🎼Apollo- Give me a character + a theme and i will prepare a playlist (e.g.: romantic dinner with Lucius)

A trip with Severus wherever you plan (based on Hades :p)

📜Hermes- Letter activity is back! Write a letter to any character as their friend/lover/student/anything and i will reply as the character!

Dear Remus,

How have you been? I'm sure you've heard of Sirius' escape. I don't know whether you believe him to be innocent or not, but there's something I need to tell you. Something I know Sirius had meant to tell you before he was convicted for Peter, James and Lily's murders. Personally, I do not think he's gulity. He's simply incapable of betraying them. However, I'm not writing to you to convince you of his innocence, but rather to inform you of his feelings.

You're aware that we broke up a few months before he was arrested. Honestly, it was a long time coming; we had been slowly drifting apart. The moment we chose to break up was when we both realised that we had developed feelings for other people. If I'm being honest, I think we'd always been in love with other people but found momentary comfort in one another.

I eventually found the courage to confess to Severus and the opportunity to find my happiness but he never did. Believe me when I say I've written this letter so many times over the last 12 years, and thrown them away every single time, but I feel like I should tell you now. Just like I was in love with Severus, Sirius was in love with you. Always has been, ever since school, I think, and I doubt his time in Azkaban would've changed how he feels about you.

My main reason in telling you is that... maybe you should expect a visit from him soon. I'm sure he'll want to make up for lost time and explain things to you.

Take care Remus.

Sincerely, Axe

💋Zeus- Fuck/Marry/Kill game because it’s the most fitting thing for Zeus😂

Harry, Draco, Neville ehehe and Lucius, Sirius, Lupin

💗Aphrodite- I wanna have some fun too, so you guys ship ME with a character this time and tell me why!

Severus Snape!! Because I know you like him (and I know that because of your url lol) and that's what counts <3 You write him so well (like all the characters you write) so I know you get him too :)

(lmao my answer sucks I'm sorry)

🗺Hades- Tell me your favourite character and I will plan a trip for you!

Severus Snape! <3

Once again, please only do the ones you feel like. I want you to enjoy it, not get stressed by how many I asked 😅 And congratulations! To this milestone and many more! 🥳💕

THANK YOU SO MUCH HONEY! AH YOU ARE SO SWEET, LOVE YOU TOO!💕💕😽😽 As i said to you earlier it made me really happy that you’re very interested in the event and you are always welcome to request anything!🥰 i said i would do them all but i feel so tired both mentally and physically because i will be moving to another city tomorrow. So I couldn't write the letter request even though it has such a great concept, sorry…😔

Athena- Aww asking me to do this was so kind of you! Sometimes i wanna take part in my own events too but never happened so this is the first! I am not into a particular aesthetic but i guess my vibes go with dark academia(?). And my favourite Hogwarts class is History of Magic! I am a historian myself so not a surprising choice😅

Apollo- I wanna give you some romantic and French songs that i love. I hope you will enjoy them!

Zeus- fuck Draco/ marry Neville/ kill Harry. I don’t like Potters at all, sorry not sorry💁🏼‍♀️

Well now this one was hard since i am into the older men of HP. Fuck Sirius/ marry Lucius/ kill Remus. I wouldn’t like to kill Remus but in this group he didn’t stand a chance😅

Aphrodite- yay another Severus! For some reason in this ship games people give me Severus so rarely, most of the time it’s Sirius. But i think we would make a good couple and i am not saying this because he is my fav; our personalities would match in my opinion.

Hades- I changed my mind so many times on this one😂 I didn’t want to choose Paris at first, i thought it will be basic but i love the city and lately i have an urge to visit it again so Paris it is! It will be such a romantic trip for you and Severus! You would enjoy the museums, French pastries, architecture and of course some French wine🍷

[penn-dragon]

Tangled Adjacent AU

That reminded me I still have more parksborn snippets to post

Context: This is from what I lovingly call my Tangled Adjacent AU which is inspired by, you guessed it, Tangled. The basic premise is that after Harry’s mother died Norman became obsessively overprotective of Harry and keeps him locked away in Oscorp to the point that no one even knows Norman Osborn HAS a son, feeding him inflated stories that keep him scared of the world and ESPECIALLY the menace Spider-Man. Until one day Peter accidently stumbles across him and becomes determined to help draw this misinformed, sheltered kid out of his shell.

Peter pushed open the grate and pulled himself out of the vent, tumbling to the floor and knocking a stack of books over on his way down.

“Yowch,” he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and rubbing his aching head for a moment. “Not one of my more graceful landings, I’ll give me that.” 

He dropped his hand to wrap both arms around his sore ribs, lifting his head and coming face to face with… a teenage boy. A teenage boy who looked terrified and furious all at once. Peter’s eyes widened.

He was holding what appeared to be a microscope above his head, ready to strike. A nice one. Probably the first thing he’d grabbed when he heard Peter come in. Peter held one hand up in front of himself, keeping the other pressed firmly against his ribs.

“Woah there.”

“What are you doing here, Spider-Man?” The boy hissed. 

“Oh man—” Peter started uselessly, a little taken aback by the hostility. “I—uh— Look I didn’t mean to barge in, but—short version—I just got done beating a baddie, saving the day, you know the drill— Swung a little too close to Oscorp and had a run in with the security drones. I just ducked in the first vent I saw and ended up here.” He paused, glancing around the room. “... Wherever here is.” The little room looked like it was part of an apartment, but wasn’t recognizable as one of the few residential floors Oscorp had for it’s CEO and the small number of employees who could afford the rent. 

“Please,” the boy snapped, lifting the microscope slightly higher above his head, “you expect me to believe you ended up here by accident?” 

Peter wondered if his arms were getting tired holding that.

“I mean, I guess you don’t have to believe it, but why else would I be here?” 

“To inject me with venom and suck out my insides?”

He said it so matter-of-factly, even with the sarcastic lilt to his voice the suggestion was so ridiculous coming from a boy glaring daggers at him and holding a microscope above his head that it surprised a laugh out of Peter. The boy startled at the sudden sound, jerking back slightly.

“Seriously? These rumors have gotten so out of hand. I know the press doesn't like me but—jeez— Not only am I physically incapable of doing that, I really wouldn’t want to.”

That seemed to take some of the steam out of the boy’s engine, his grip on the microscope loosened slightly. Not off guard, but thrown for a loop definitely.

“Who even told you I do that?”

“My… dad,” he answered haltingly, like he hadn’t actually meant to say it.

“Who’s your dad,” Peter muttered, more to himself than anything, “J. Jonah Jameson?”

“No…” the boy trailed off, clearly not intending to continue.

“Well,” Peter filled in the silence with a short shrug of his shoulders, “I promise I’m not here to suck out your guts. So you can put that down—”  Immediately the tension was back in the boy’s muscles, holding the microscope ready to swing, “—or not.” Peter let out a short sigh lifting his left hand again to wave it placatingly. “Look you can keep that if it makes you feel safer, but I’m really banged up here, so I’m gonna sit. Please don’t hit me in the head with that thing, it would hurt.” Peter slowly lowered himself to the ground, scooting back so he could lean against the wall and shuffle himself into a semi-comfortable position. “Plus that looks like a really nice microscope, it’d be a waste to crack it over my skull.” 

Being given the high-ground—or maybe concern about the microscope—seemed to deflate the boy once more. He lowered his arms slightly, then let the microscope sink all the way to his chest where he wrapped his arms around it in a more comfortable hold.

“... It’s my favorite microscope,” he said after a pause. 

“No kidding? I can see why, wish I had one that nice. Mine’s a piece of second-hand junk from Ebay.”

“You like science?”

“You bet! Made all my own gear.” Peter held out his hand, folding his wrist down to show off his webshooter. The boy flinched back at the sudden movement, pulling the microscope further against his chest and retreating backwards to the mouth of the door. “Sorry! Sorry,” Peter called, tucking his hands under his armpits. “No webs, got it.” 

The boy continued to hover cautiously by the door. Now that his initial fire had calmed down he looked small. Mostly in a metaphorical sense, he was probably a couple inches taller than Peter, but he was skinny, and his jet black hair stood out in sharp contrast with how pale his skin was. His eyes, however, were a soft, muted blue that watched him wearily. 

“Do you… live here?” He asked, eyes darting around the room. It was definitely a bedroom… or at least, something close to a bedroom. There was a double bed pushed up in the corner, nearly eclipsed with stacks of books, notebooks and loose papers. Opposite was a desk covered in slides and petri disks where the boy must have been working when he stumbled in. The rest of the room was disturbingly bare. No pictures, posters, or any kind of memorabilia that would imply someone lived here. Nothing he would expect from another teenager’s bedroom. The boy didn’t answer, just continued staring at him from the doorway. As the silence stretched on uncomfortably long, Peter realized he didn’t intend to answer.

“What’s your name?” He tried again, tilting his head to study the other boy.

He didn’t get a response right away. After another stretch of silence under that unwavering blue gaze, Peter assumed he wasn’t going to get one. But as he dipped his head to check on his battered ribs, a quiet voice rose in the silence.

“Harry.”

Peter looked back up.

“Harry?” The boy—Harry—didn’t speak again, but he did avert his eyes for the first time since Peter entered the room, almost like he was embarrassed hearing his own name said aloud. “Harry,” Peter said again, testing the name on his tongue. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Spider-Man, you can call me Spidey.”

Harry looked back at him, clearly struggling to think of a response. Peter decided to spare him from thinking of one.

“Look, it’s clear my being here is… not so welcome. So I’ll just bounce.” He slowly stood up, minding both his injuries, and Harry still cowering at the door while trying to look like he wasn’t cowering. “I just needed to catch my second wind, so I can get out of range of the security bots before they turn me into Swiss cheese.”

“You fought the security bots to get in here.” Harry’s voice chimed back in. Peter turned his head to look at him. He was a step further into the room and there was a different look on his face. A spark in his eye that wasn’t there before.

“Yep,” Peter answered, popping the ‘p’ playfully. He turned back fully, curious to see where this was going.

“How were they?”

Peter tilted his head.

“Well they didn’t kill me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well, obviously,” Harry snarked, “But i mean aside from that. How was their reactivity? Could you spot their patterns easily or no?” Harry moved forward and set the microscope back on the desk, lifting his hand to his chin as his eyes sunk to the floor and Peter was actually startled by how suddenly his demeanor changed. “I’ve been fiddling with them recently, trying to improve their efficiency—”

“Wait,” Peter cut in, “you built the Oscorp security bots?” 

Harry’s head snapped up, and he flinched back, ducking his head like he just realized he said something he shouldn’t have. He crossed his arms over his chest and suddenly his guard was back, and all the personality spilling out of him a moment ago was slammed back behind a wall.

“No, I— I didn't build them… Robotics aren’t really my thing… I’ve just been tinkering with them recently, as a side project.”

Peter watched him for a moment, wondering what he’d said to cause such a sudden shift, and how he could get that excitement back.

“Well, while they were trying to kill me it seemed like they worked pretty well,” he said, and Harry’s eyes lifted back to him, intrigue shining through in the blue of his eyes. “Little tip though, you should add a section in the coding that keeps them from flanking with each other. It seems like a good idea to surround an intruder but it’s way too easy to just duck out of the line of fire and watch them shoot each other.”

Peter knew very well that he was making it that much more difficult for himself the next time he had a run in with Oscorp’s security, but in his mind it was worth it when he once again saw the caution drain out of Harry’s eyes as he ran through Peter’s advice in his head.

“Hm,” he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[kyidyl]

Aphantasia anon: So my recognition of smell isn’t impacted. If I come across an apple I am able to identify the scent as apple. But I don’t make association with smell. I know which perfume my mom uses because my brain has stored the fact that mom wears X perfume but if I come across a person wearing the same perfume my mind doesn’t make the connection to mom. There’s also no remembrance of memories where my mom is wearing her perfume. A smell is just a smell for me. Same for the tastes. It’s

Ok sorry I got sucked into Tiktok, lol.

That thing about the smell is still super interesting for me. Like clearly your brain identifies the smells and whatnot but you're also obviously forming long term memory in a really unique way. I'm not well-versed in neurology enough to be able to go into detail there but scent is often one of the things most strongly connected to memory, but yours doesn't connect like that. Your whole experience is so wildly different and it's very cool. I bet you have a lot less of a problem really enjoying the moment in front of you. I have ADHD so like I do a lot of daydreaming and whatnot, or zoning out, and sometimes it gets in the way of me actually engaging with what's in front of me. I'm always thinking of something else and I'm literally incapable of simply enjoying what's in front of me without hyperfocusing. Do you have autism or ADHD? BC now I wonder if it's possible for someone with aphantasia to have that kind of neurodivergence considering how often vividly imagining things while zoning out is reported as an experience we have. Do you zone out/daydream? If you do, what's the quality of it? Is it basically just like talking to yourself in your head?

If your head voice is bland and muffled (mine is muffled too. It has a weird like...fuzzy? Quality to it. Like it's far away.), I can see why long descriptions of things would get tedious for you. That's a very quick trip to sleeping....wait, do you dream??? I'm assuming you do cause everyone seems to. Do you remember it when you wake up? What are the memories like? Also re:reading, do you have trouble with metaphor or simile? If so I imagine English classes (if you're American...for all I know this is your second language.) must have been AWFUL.

Ye gods school must have been (or must be) really difficult for you. Do you think that there was something that teachers could have done/should do to make things easier for you? If you're trying to do something like geometry does it help to draw it out on a piece of paper...like maybe an external kind of visualization? And do things like google maps help you when you're navigating, or not so much? If having things in a place is helpful to you, I bet your house is pretty orderly. No idea what that's like, lol.

Hahahahha I've seen that post, too. That was also when I learned about aphantasia, and I think it was really interesting then, too. It's so hard for me to understand what it must be like to just no visualize because my mind like...it's almost like a physical space. So to me when someone says no visualization I picture a blank space. Like a TV that's off. Like closing your eyes. But I once saw someone describe their blindness by saying "what do you see out of your elbow?" well, nothing. You don't see darkness you don't perceive a sense of space or anything out of your elbow. Is it like that? Or is it like a TV that's turned off? Like a space for visualization that just doesn't turn on, or no? Like it's so hard to describe but my mind feels like a whole other place. Like...the inside of a Tardis. So when I try to imagine aphantasia my brain just supplies like this idea of a big, empty room with a very important voice in the room. But I'm guessing that it's more like you just don't have the room at all....I hope that doesn't come across as rude. It's 2am so I'm probably not being as articulate as I might otherwise be. I'm not trying to insinuate that you're empty-headed, just describing the image that my brain spits up for me.

That description of how your memories work is really cool. I'd love to read a book by someone with aphantasia just to see the differences and see how you guys write and what you emphasize. That sensory thing just is still blowing my mind. Oh man...I bet your acculturation (assimilation of your first culture.) process was totally different. Does the lack of visualization make it harder for you to interpret facial expressions? Like maybe you don't remember which expressions mean which thing bc you can't see them in your head? BTW please don't feel like you need to answer a question if it's accidentally too invasive. It's 100% ok to just be like "yeah not comfy with that".

Ok so I'm going to bed now, but go ahead and answer whenever you feel like it. I'll reply tomorrow. :)

[imagineyourself]

Teacher’s Pet- A Spencer Reid Imagine

Spencer Reid x fem! psych major! reader 

A/n: Hi guys, I’ve watched 9 seasons of criminal minds in 2 weeks, so expect a lot of criminal minds stuff coming! Also, kind of want to write a part 2 to this so lmk if you would like that! 

Gif is not mine creds to @toyboxboy​

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood and knives

Word count: 2.6k

“The unsub is likely in a position of power, well respected, maybe even admired. He works with young people, probably a teacher or professor. We need to find him, and fast before he kills another young girl.” Rossi spoke to the room of officers. The room disperses to begin searching for the killer, 4 girls are already dead. 

“Rossi, I think I found the connection between the girls.” Dr. Spencer Reid turning away from the board with the bodies taped to it and a file in his hand. “They all shared a professor.”

“They all went to different schools, different majors.” Morgan interjects.

“He is a professor at multiple universities, and they’ve all taken a psych class at some point, mostly introductory level. He must have connected with them during that time.” Reid continues.

“Who is it, dammit, Reid?” Hotch said.

“A Professor Deslaurier, professor of psychology, which explains why he was hard to find. He’s one of us. But better than that, I think I know who his next target is.” 

*campus cafe around the same time* 

“I’m not saying that I’m ready to start dating again, but I would love to see what that barista’s got going on.” My best friend said grabbing her coffee from the counter, winking at the barista drying mugs. 

“Oh my god, keep it in your pants, you and Garrett just broke up. Like 2 days ago. You were devastated, remember?” I remind her, gently shoving her with my elbow as we sat at a table by the window.

“His name was Garrett so clearly he isn’t that hard to get over. But anyway what’s up with you relationship wise, any new people?” She presses her lips to her coffee cup, as I pull out my laptop from my bag.

“You and I both know nothing is happening in that department. School and work is taking up all my time, and I can’t help but ruin dates with my charming personality.” I pull up my latest essay for my criminal psychology class, only 5 words on the page: my name, the date, and the class.

“Stop going all psych major on people when you’re on a first date or you’ll be alone forever.” She rolls her eyes at me as she glances out the window. Her eyes squinting in concentration, so I follow her gaze seeing a group of people in FBI uniforms talking to campus security. 

“What the hell?” I say watching one of them glance around and look at the campus cafe and nod his head in its direction. The agent made his way over to the shop and steps in looking around, scanning like he was looking for someone. Then his eyes land on me. 

He rushes over to the table, but his face and voice remain calm despite the urgency in his walk. “Are you Y/F/N Y/L/N?” 

“Yes, I am. What’s going on?” I look between the man and Y/B/F/N.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, and I’m going to need you to come with me.” He flashes his badge as fear washes over my face. “You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.” He smiles as I pack up my stuff, my essay still not begun. 

I say goodbye to my friend, and leave with the mysterious Doctor. “So what’s going on and why do you need me? Or better yet where are we going?”

“Good question, do you have an apartment or dorm of some sort where we can go for a while?”

“Yea I have an off campus apartment just up the road. We can spend some time there, but why? Am I like in danger or something?” 

“We have reason to believe you’re the killers next target.” He keeps me close as I guide him to my apartment. These are not the circumstances with which I would prefer to have this beautiful doctor be coming with me to my apartment, but it just be like that sometimes. 

“Who would want to kill me? Why?” I ask as I approach my apartment door, unlocking it to allow us inside. “And what am I supposed to do to stop it?” 

“That’s why I’m here, to protect you in case he comes to harm you, and it’s Professor Deslaurier who is attacking his brightest female students.” 

“Hank wouldn’t do that. He was so kind,” I pause thinking about everything I’ve learned in my classes, “and I’m an idiot. He was manipulating me so I would trust him. He knew I was vulnerable and exploited that, and he’s a textbook narcissist.” 

“Psych major?” Spencer asks as I sit on my couch with my head in my hands, wrapping my head around the fact that my favourite professor wants to kill me. 

“Yeah, so I should have seen the signs. But I guess being a target is what happens when you’re stupid enough to trust the first teacher who approaches you.” I start crying, this sucks. The doctor, Spencer I think he said his name is, hands me a tissue. I take it graciously, a small smile creeps onto my lips at the gesture.

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known he was a crazy serial killer. You were just being a good student, but you said that he approached you?” He sits next to me on the couch letting me lean on him slightly.

“Yeah, he came up to me after a lecture, raving about one of my essays and how my perspective was fascinating and came from a personal place. He basically decoded me from an essay. Where is he now?” I pull myself together enough to sit up, seeing the tear stains on his sweater. “ I’m sorry about your sweater.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles and looks down at the stains I left. “We are trying to locate him now and put him away so he can’t hurt you or anyone else.” 

“So what am I supposed to do until he’s caught?”

“Do you have anything here to work on? Homework or test to prepare for? I’m a great study buddy if you need help.”  He smiles as if he’s not here to protect me from my crazy killer professor.

“Actually I do have a criminal psychology essay due in like 10 hours.” 

“10 hours?! Why have you been putting it off? Unless the topic is something uncomfortable to think about?” 

“You said your name was Spencer, right? Is it okay if I call you that?” He nods, still waiting for me to answer the question. “Well, Spencer, the essay is about what would make us snap, or our stressor as you guys call it, and kill people. Like searching through our traumas to see what would be the last straw. It’s not exactly a pleasant thought.” 

Spencer looks into my eyes, deep like he’s reaching for my soul. He’s trying to profile me, but making it look a lot harder than it is. “You’ve been through a lot before: tough childhood, bad relationships, things like that,” I nod my head averting my eyes “But none of those things means you’re going to become a killer. Stressors only work if you let them, and I’ve had years of profiling experience and from the short time I’ve known you I can safely say you are incapable of killing someone.” 

“How are you so sure? You barely know me?” I look up from my hands and gaze into his eyes, they are the warmest honey brown color. 

“You and I both know you can learn a lot about someone without having to know them for a significant amount of time. I am highly skilled in the area of subtle detections and putting together clues to build personalities from fragments.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. I can’t hide anything from you because you already know it, so you are already well aware that I am incredibly attracted to you. I may not be an FBI profiler, but I can tell you like me too.” I put my hands over his, seeing his cheeks flare pink at the gesture. I lean closer to him, feeling his breath on my face.

Until he suddenly pulls back, but it was forceful. He didn’t want to, but he had to. I was about to apologize for how inappropriate it was, he’s just doing his job, but he starts before I can talk.

“Your essay is due in 10 hours, more accurately 9 hours 47 minutes and 22 seconds, and you haven’t started. Work on your essay, it’ll distract you from the current situation.” He stands and paces the room as if trying to come up with the best solution to a problem. I just couldn’t tell if the problem was me or the case. 

I was going to argue with him, but I sighed knowing he’s right. I need to write my essay so I don’t fail my class. The screen burns my eyes as I stare at the practically blank screen. The sound of my fingers running across the keyboard fills my small apartment as I figure out my story. I stop for a moment after several minutes of furious typing and look up.

“What are some typical stressors of serial killers?” I ask Spencer giving him the opportunity to use his genius brain to help me. 

After 4 tortuous hours of writing and editing done by Dr. Reid, I hit submit on my essay. I high five the young doctor in celebration, but he catches my  hand and intertwines his fingers with mine instead. The air catches in my throat, I’m speechless. Now it’s my turn to blush at a small gesture. He holds me for a moment, gazes locked on each other. I lean up to meet his lips, but a knock at my door disturbs the quiet of the room. Reid puts a finger to his lips signalling for silence. 

“Y/N open up. I know you’re home.” A voice calls from the hall.

“Hank.” I whisper, frightfully looking at Spencer pleading for some direction in the situation. How am I supposed to know what to do when my crazy professor shows up at my apartment to kill me? He nods his head toward the door as he creeps in its direction silently, gun in hand. He looks hot when he’s in agent mode. Wait, not the biggest issue right now, focus Y/N. I stand behind the door, looking over at him and he nods. I open the door slightly. “Hey Professor Deslaurier, what’s up?” He looks distressed and frazzled, but I would too if the fucking FBI was trying to find me for being a serial killer. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Uhhhh, I’ve been working on a paper. Do you need something?” I stand close to the door, practically hugging it as if my life depended on it. Reid’s presence behind the door went undetected by my professor since he stepped closer to the door. 

“The paper must be amazing, you were always an amazing writer. May I come in?” He wasn’t really asking, his foot in the doorframe. 

“I would rather not, I’m very busy. Deadlines and all.” I push the door closed, but before I could he shoves his way in. I walk backwards into the open space, consciously making an effort not to let Deslaurier know Reid is there by looking at him, which became incredibly difficult as he came closer to me pushing my back into a wall. 

“You were always so intelligent and strong headed, but now, you’re just weak and pathetic. Aww look at the panic in your eyes. You can’t think your way out of this one.” He pulls a knife from his pocket and presses the flat side to my neck and I whimper. I squirmed in his grasp and in a moment of panic, I look at Reid. Deslaurier’s gaze follows mine and meets the agent standing in my apartment, gun cocked. Suddenly the cold, hard wall I was pressed against became warm and soft as my killer holds me against him like a shield, a knife to my throat. “Who is this son of a bitch?”

“I’m Dr. Reid with the FBI. Release her, put down the knife.” Spencer points his gun at the floor, knowing he would be unable to get a shot that wouldn’t hit me. 

“Oooh, a doctor she chooses smart guys to whore herself out to.” I squirm in his grasp. My neck burns as the sharp edge of the weapon presses into me. 

“I’m just here to protect her from you. You aren’t as clever as you think you are, you know? We caught you. You can’t hurt anybody anymore. Drop the knife and let her go. Now. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. Let her go.”

“Spencer, please.” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. I’m probably going to die, I’ve accepted that. I just don’t want Spencer to see me go, I can tell this is killing him. Agent or no agent, this is an awful situation to be put in. 

“Does she mean something to you, Doctor? I wouldn’t get attached if I were you, she’ll just throw you away like she did to me. Best and brightest in my class, but just another stupid girl outside of it.” If looks could kill, Deslaurier would be dead under Reid’s gaze. His eyes soften when he looks at me, giving me hope. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, I swing my leg back into my capture’s knee, dislocating it in the process. The knife sliced through part of my neck, just barely missing vital veins. Spencer takes his shot as the professor falls to the ground, catching me in his strong arms as I fall forward. 

“Hey, hey, hey look at me. You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to take you to the hospital and get you stitched up. Okay? Just keep looking at me.” He holds me as we sit on the floor. 

“Spencer…” I whisper and everything goes dark.

Beeping and whispers fill the room as I open my eyes. I’m sitting in a hospital bed, what happened? Why does my head hurt so much? 

“Hey take it easy. You’re in the hospital, you lost a lot of blood.” Spencer says, standing next to my bed taking my hand.

“What happened after I blacked out? How did we get here?” The beeping becomes incessant as my heart races.

“Relax, it’s okay,” He squeezes my hand and the beeping softens, “My team went to your apartment and took care of Deslaurier, I shot him in the shoulder after you kicked him, which good job by the way, even if it caused you to get hurt. You ended up getting a nasty cut on your neck, but it missed any critical veins.”

“Thanks.” I smile looking at our hands.

“You know you scared me half to death when you lost consciousness.”

“Well, sorry, I’ll try not to almost get murdered by a serial killer next time.” I smirk sarcastically as he laughs stroking my cheek. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

“You know, we were in the middle of something before being rudely interrupted.” I look up at the gorgeous doctor who happened to save my life. 

“Oh yeah, where were we again?” He smirks, lowering himself closer to my level in the bed.

“Right about here.” I pull him close, kissing his pillow soft lips.

[pink-imagines]

a matter of strength

request: So I wanted a really self-indulgent fic with me and Todoroki. My friend started shipping us and now I can't stop thinking about it. Friend even got me to do some kabedon art and I don't remember what led to the discussion of kabedon but then I was like "Well I guess I'm drawing Todoroki trapping me against a wall." So I want a fic of my self-insert OC meeting Todoroki and whatever the hell leads up to him doing a kabedon. It's certainly preferable for him to like me back, but more than anything I want him to be in character. So if the kabedon is because he's fed up with me flirting or something, then so be it. (requested by @kawayuni​)

a/n: i hope i wrote your quirk in the right way!!

warnings: self doubt, a fight scene but nothing too gory

masterlist

requesting rules

If it wasn’t for the the fact that Todoroki was with you, you would’ve probably been dead. 

You really didn’t know what happened, you just froze. To think that today would finally lead up to this moment.

-

You woke up that morning feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day! Sure, maybe it was a bit hard to get out of bed but you did it eventually! Which is really all that counts. Around 7 am you were almost out the door to get to work and you were at the train station at 7:30. The station was crowded but you did your best to slink through to get to where you needed to be. 

Once you got to work you immediately went into the office to see if you had any paperwork you had to get done. “Good morning, Y/L/N.”, a familiar voice said from behind you. “It’s indeed a good morning, especially now that I got to see you!”, you jokingly said and smiled at the receptionist who walked past. “You’re too sweet, Y/N.”, she laughed and walked over to the break room. Without hesitation you got to work and finished what needed to be done, you really just wanted to get out to the action. You weren’t always needed out, since you were a rescue worker but sometimes you got to go out on patrol. Today was that kind of day! You were actually patrolling with Todoroki, which you were very excited about. You had first met him at UA during the sports festival, and since then you had developed a little crush on him. Who wouldn’t, really, tough?

“Ready to go, Y/H/N?”, Todoroki asked as you got out of the changing room. “Ready as I’ll ever be, handsome!”, you grinned at the way his face got slightly more red. You were what people would call a flirt. Really you just tried to compliment people in that way, and most people were fine with it. Todoroki was one of those people and you had a fun time teasing him about the fact that he would easily blush. Sometimes you’d get a smile or even a chuckle out of him, which is why you usually saved your best one-liners for him personally. 

During your patrol you kept it flirty and lighthearted, calling him by nicknames and telling silly pick-up lines. Todoroki didn’t complain, and simply went along with it, sometimes he’d roll his eyes but he’d always have a smile on his lips while doing so. “I appreciate you serving looks, but I’d also like to be served some food.”, you joked, “Wanna go out for lunch after patrol?” Usually you’d go out for lunch with the person you were patrolling with after doing your job, which is why you loved patrolling with Todoroki.  “Yeah, as long as we get back in time. I have some paper work to do.”, he nodded, ignoring the flirty remark you made even though his ears were turning slightly red as well as his cheeks. “Great what do you want to-”, you didn’t look at where you were going and bumped into someone, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” “Watch where you’re going.”, the man growled at you. “Sir, it was just a mistake. They apologiesed.”, Todoroki said in your defense. “Heroes these days... they’re so incapable...”, the man kept walking in the opposite direction of where you were going. You looked back at him for a while, there was just something that rubbed you the wrong way about him and you couldn’t get it out of your mind. “Are you okay? You know you shouldn’t take what he said to heart, right?”, Todoroki brought you out of your own head. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine.”, you shrugged it off and decided to not focus your energy on a grumpy man.

Once your shift was over the two of you went out to get soba, still in your hero costumes mostly because you were to lazy to take it off but also in case of an emergency call. You could never be too careful, the only downside was people staring at you and the commotion around it. “We always end up eating soba when we’re going patrolling together.”, you commented at random, after there had been a long pause of silence where you had just been eating. “It’s my favorite...”, he shrugged and looked up at you, “... I like eating it with you.” Todoroki wasn’t much of a talker, he wasn’t a flirter either, but in some sort of way, in certain moments, his words would make your heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the fact that he usually didn’t talk much and that when he did it left a much bigger impact. Or it was the fact that he chose his words so carefully that each of them really meant something. Before you could respond to this with another one of your flirty remarks both of you got a stress call. It was an area near you, which is probably why you got it in the first place.  “Let’s go.”, Todoroki said, got up and threw some money on the table to pay for your food.

When you reached the scene it was a building on fire. You approached one of the medics helping out at the scene. “What’s going on here? What can we do?”, you asked. “There are already heroes inside, but there are still hostages being held.”, the nurse said stressfully, “Just try to get them out safely. There’s a villain in there- I don’t know what he wants-” “Alright, thank you!”, you said as the nurse ran off to help some other victims, “Let’s go!”

While Todoroki helped out in trying to put the fire out, you were helping people out of the building. “Not too many people at once!”, you told them, “Five is just enough! Don’t worry, I’ll get all of you down.” You got them down by lifting and sinking rocks, almost like an elevator, which is why they couldn’t all get down at once. With the best of your abilities you tried to focus on helping them, but you could also feel the steps of someone approaching quickly through the vibration in the ground. The only thing you could do was to hope that it was just another hero, or a hostage further in the building that had managed to escape on their own. “Y/H/N, the villain is approaching your area!”, you heard through your earpiece. “Got it!”, you answered. Shit... As you helped the next five people on the hovering rock you put up a stone wall against the door. “The door is barricaded, but I’ll need back-up. I won’t be able to hold it that long.”, you said to your mic. With one hand holding up your barrier and the other one slowly sinking down the five people, your energy was about to reduce faster than normal. Still, there were only three people left after this one so you told yourself to suck it up and finish the job. “Back up is on the way, but please keep the door barricaded!”, the sound from the earpiece startled you a bit, but you kept your balance. “Thank you.”, you answered shortly to keep as much energy as possible. You heard the door open and a familiar man’s voice groan, probably a reaction to your barrier. With a sigh you told everyone to keep quiet, hoping you wouldn’t get caught or that he wouldn’t bother. “Heroes these days... they’re so incapable.”, when you heard the voice say that your entire body froze. It was the man from before. You looked down the building to see that the people down there had gotten off. With as much power you could muster you brought the rock back up. When you turned to tell everyone to get on you were met with the villain smashing through your barrier. You dropped the rock to the ground and hurried to the three people left, creating a new wall around them. It was a wall that you didn’t have to hold up yourself, though you knew it would soon turn into gravel so you had to work quickly. You tried capturing the villains legs by incasing them with stone, but he just broke himself free. Every single attack you tried to stop him with failed, and you were slowly getting more and more tired. All the while you were trying to protect the innocent citizen from this delusional man he was mocking you. “What kind of training are they even putting you through nowadays? It doesn’t seem like it’s working.”, he laughed. You heard the agonizing sound of the wall around the people you were trying to protect crumble to the ground. You fell to your knees out of exhaustion and pure disappointment over the fact that you were uncapable of doing this by yourself, even if you were a rescue worker and not a hero. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a tiny figure. Your head snapped over there, only to see a child who had been in hiding until now. You hadn’t even noticed the fact that there weren’t only three people left. Because of the movement of your head, the villain followed your eyes. In a moment of pure panic you did the only thing you could think of; use the last of your energy to build two stone barriers, one around the child and the other around the other three people. “You’re just gonna leave yourself open for me like this? You do realize that I’ll just kill them after I take you out, right?”, the villain laughed, “You really are useless, aren’t you?” He raised his hand towards you, and as you were expecting the blow something cold appeared right in front of your face. A wall of ice had stopped the villain from giving you one last blow. “You’re alright, Y/N...”, you heard Todoroki whisper, “... come with me, the civillians are gonna be okay. We brought back up, it’s just a matter of time-” You blacked out.

When your eyes fluttered open again you were met with a bright light. It smelled like carbolic acid and a distracting hint of flowers. A slight beeping was heard every second or so. Once you got your vision back and looked around the room you understood that you were in a hospital. The slight smell of flowers came from the boquet on the nightstand next to you, and of course the beeping was from a heart monitor. A nurse came into the room with a relieved look on her face. “Oh, you’re awake!”, she smiled kindly. “Where am I?”, you muttered out. As you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes you realized you were hooked up to a drip. “You used too much energy and blacked out. Don’t worry, it’s only been a few hours... and you should be ready to head out if you just rest for a bit longer.”, the nurse explained, “You’re recovering quickly, but I recommend you take a few days off work.” As the nurse left the room you thought about what had happened. You weren’t strong enough to take down the villain, and in return those innocent people probably got traumatized. With a deep sigh you put your head in your hands. If it wasn’t for the the fact that Todoroki was with you, you would’ve probably been dead.

When you got back from the hospital you didn’t take those days off that the nurse recommended. Instead you went to work and did paper work. You would’ve gone out on patrol but that was too far according to the agency. On top of that, you had been avoiding Todoroki like the plague. Whenever you looked at him you just felt helpless, and you didn’t want to show your face to him after what had happened. You didn’t want to face him because you thought you were too weak for him.

Sometimes, even though you weren’t allowed to patrol, you’d just take a look at your hero costume. You missed getting to go out, but you had to fully get better before you got to do so.  One time when you were in the changing room for your break, looking at your hero costume, someone opened and closed the door quickly behind them. “You’re back?”, a familiar voice asked. When you looked back to the voice’s owner your face blossomed with different colors of red. Todoroki walked closer to you. “I got back four days ago.”, you muttered out and closed the locker door, ready to walk out of there. “You didn’t think of stopping by my desk? Maybe say ‘hi’?”, Todoroki wasn’t usually this forward, “I was worried about you, you know.” “You shouldn’t have been.”, you sighed, “It’s not like I’m that important to the agency.” When he tried to take a few steps closer you backed up, but was met with the cold material of your locker behind you. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”, the way he said your name so softly made your heart flutter, but you couldn’t give in. “I’m just saying that I’m not as powerful as the rest of you, so I’m not important to-” Todoroki’s hands slammed down on the locker behind you, his hands were right by your head. “Did you ever think that I’d be worried about you for selfish reasons? Or do you think I’m some sort of machine?”, he walked just a bit closer to you and let his forearms lean against the metal behind you, “You don’t think I take what you say to me to heart?” You had never been this close to him before, he could probably hear your heart beating out of your chest. You really didn’t know what happened, you just froze. To think that today would finally lead up to this moment, a day that seemed so normal as if it was any other day. “I talk like that to everybody, Todoroki, I-” “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s the same.”, he said with a low tone. You finally met his gaze, his piercing eyes were almost unbearable but you kept yourself steady. “I can’t...”, you admitted. “So why can’t you believe me when I say that I was worried? I don’t care if you don’t think you’re strong enough to matter. To me you matter, and what you did during that mission was nothing but strong.”, he had calmed down a bit and now talked in a softer voice, “I’d really like for you to see that too.” “Todoroki...” “Please call me Shoto.”, he said. “Shoto...”, you tried the name out, “... Shoto, you matter to me too and hearing that from you means a lot... but could you maybe back up a bit?” At this point you could feel Shoto’s breath against your lips and your face had become increasingly more hot every second. “Right! Sorry...”, Shoto backed away from you, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t miss his warmth. “... so you’re saying you... knew that I like you?”, you muttered and he nodded, “And you like me back?” Shoto nodded again, and that tiny motion made your heart burst with fireworks and butterflies and your head was buzzing as if you had just gotten drunk for the first time. “No more mindless flirting?”, he held out his hand to you. “No more mindless flirting.”, you took his hand gently. As soon as you did so he started walking out the door, dragging you with him.  “Wait, where are we going?”, you blurted out. “I’m taking you out for a coffee, so that we can finally have a date.” “You don’t think that could wait?” “No.”

-

extra:

“How did you find out that I like you? I mean I act like that around everyone.”, you asked and took another sip from your cup of coffee. “I didn’t know...”, he admitted, “I was talking to the receptionist and she kinda let it slip, actually.” “Are you serious!?”

-

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac |

[shadows-twilight]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 10

My various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 10 of RWBY Volue 8, “Ultimatum”

SPOILERS BELOW:

Ooh. A photo-sensitivity warning. That’s always interesting to see. Nice of them to be considerate.

I feel so bad for these guards. They very clearly wish they were anywhere but here, doing absolutely anything but this.

That soldier will never be comfortable around birds again.

That explosion was absolutely breathtaking. The sounds fading out while soft music plays during a huge, dramatic moment is one of my favorite tropes and CRWBY executed it flawlessly here.

Neo considers to be her iconic self.

At least Marrow still cares. He’s such a good boy.

Oh. My. God. I love everything about Watts’s “Reason You Suck” speech to Cinder. The editing, the writing, everything is just super cathartic. Not to mention the voice acting. I mean, Chris Sabat being an amazing voice actor isn’t exactly a new concept, but the amount of frustration and disdain he poured into that rant was superb. I full believe that this rant was the outpouring of every feeling Watts has had for Cinders over years. Watts has certainly reaffirmed his place as my favorite member of Team WTCH.

Ok, I know there is a very vocal part of the FNDM that says we should feeling sympathy for Cinder, but unless they actually bring Pyrrha back, I just can’t. The fact that she is an abuse victim is certainly heartbreaking, but it doesn’t excuse everything that she’s done just then. While I don’t exactly feel joy seeing her break down and cry like this, I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for her either. To restate a sentiment that I made for Adam, I pity the girl that suffered in that hotel. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I spare none for the woman she grew into.

D’aaw, the way Blake’s face lit up when Yang answered the video call. CRWBY has improved in a lot of ways over the years, but my favorite has to be how good they’ve gotten at facial expressions.

So, I’m assuming that it’s safe to say Hazel’s dead then? I mean, I know there’s a reason that people say “No Body, No Death”, I’m a pretty firm believer of that rule myself, but after that explosion, would there even be a body? I find it hard to believe we’d find anything bigger than a fingernail after that, I don’t care how tough he was. I wouldn’t mind being proven wrong in the future, but until then, RIP Hazel, you went out like an absolute boss.

I like how no one’s really in the wrong with the debate about Emerald. As much as I’m in favor of her redemption arc and the heroes working with her, it’s true that she’s done some awful things in the past, things that have heart them directly, so they are far from wrong in holding that against her, especially when even her ditching Salem was only done in the name of self-preservation.

Hmm, purple petals, wonder what emotion those represent. I like the theory that it’s guilt, but we shall have to wait and see.

So the cane can store kinetic energy? Is that, like, an impact thing, like what Yang and Adam have going on? Would it store the impact of every strike it took? That’s pretty cool.

On one hand, this is probably the cleanest version of the “refugee camp” scene I’ve ever scene in media before. On the other hand, it’s still a pretty powerful image. War sucks, y’all.

It would be easy to think that the simple answer to Ironwood’s quarry would be that Watts betrayed them, but interestingly, it was neither. Watts did everything in his power to force Penny into the vault, the only reason she isn’t is because she’s resisting. This is less Ironwood failing to recognize Watts as a slimy snake and more failing to recognize Penny’s agency and humanity.

Speaking of amazing facial expressions and people who clearly don’t want to be in Ironwood’s office, I am really feeling for Winter right now. I imagine Ironwood is starting to look very Jacques-like in her eyes right now.

Harriet, you are really going out of your way to make me ashamed to have ever called you my favorite Ace-Op. For the love of god, shut your snitch-ass mouth.

Well, that WAS a nice table.

Neo is incapable of being anything other than a little shit, and by god do we love her for it.

NEW SONG! We haven’t had a lot of those lately, I’m getting the feeling we’ll be getting a lot of them near the end.

So many hugs, all worthy of note, but my god, the face cupping, the forehead touch, it’s too much for my heart to handle!

Goddamnit, Ironwood, Whitley finally got a chance to do a good, and you just had to take it away from him.

Ooh, the way the broadcast transitioned from hologram to in person. Nice editing, well done.

I have a lot to say about Ironwood’s ultimatum, but instead of taking the time to type it all out, I’ll just give you the tl;dr version: FUCK! YOU! IRONWOOD! I wasn’t totally on board with Qrow’s idea of an assassination attempt back when he proposed in Chapter 2, but now, I’m a little more open to the idea. There’s no way Ironwood makes it out alive after this.

[madasthesea]

I’m sorry for being so mean. I had a really bad day and didn’t mean to say such awful things. But I am frustrated my fics always get ignored, especially by the big names in the fandom such as yourself that claim to support everyone. I’ve written so many fics in this fandom and have been doing so for over a year, yet I only have 30 subscribers. I get really frustrated and feel like I’m a bad writer because everyone ignores me and my fics. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.

(2/2) For a fan community that claims they are inclusive, everyone sure doesn’t act that way. Everyone already has their friends and people like me who don’t have many friends get ignored. The big names in the fandom don’t support or read the fics by the new people. It’s not just me. I’ve never received a single kudo or comment from you or anyone else that’s popular like you. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but people don’t read my fics.

Ok, I’m answering this in the middle of the night in the hopes that not a lot of people will see it so it won’t become A Thing and then as soon as this fic exchange is over I am turning my anons off forever. Anon, I guess I have to give you credit for coming to apologize, but I have to say, where before I was perfectly capable of laughing off your extremely rude message, I have to say, now I’m annoyed. Because there is not a single instance or bad day or frustration that makes what you said acceptable. You came into my inbox and threw a temper tantrum because you knew my name and I happen to have anons on unlike most of the “fandom big names.” You told me I had the worst fics in the fandom, told me I publish outlines instead of stories and accused me of writing incestual pedophilia because you had a bad day? I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re young because that is the only possible excuse I could give you. As I said in my original response, if I were already an anxious writer, you could have caused me to delete all of my fics and put me off of writing forever. Someone commented on your original message and said that they don’t post their writing because of messages like that one. You’re right you shouldn’t have taken it out on me, and you wouldn’t have if your name had been associated with it. But here we are, and I’m going to try to make it so this never happens again, at least with the two of us. 

Now, onward to your frustrations. I am sorry that you aren’t getting the attention you want, but one) yelling at me on anon isn’t going to fix that. Two) not to be like callous and insensitive, but that happens to almost every writer I know. I’ve been writing fanfiction for 12 years. This is the seventh fandom I’ve written for and no one ever read my fics before this. My first year on AO3 I published six stories and had 500 views total. I get the frustration, but sometimes you just have to get the perfect combination of exposure, plot, and interest. Three) Do you have any idea how many stories get published in the Peter Parker & Tony Stark tag a day? I’m sorry, I can’t read all of them. I don’t want to read all of them, in fact I have 14 different tags blacklisted. Just because I am a “big name” does not mean I owe you a comment or a kudos. If I like your story, I will tell you. Chances are, I haven’t even seen one of your stories, because I’m an adult with a job and hobbies and writing of my own to do. Most of the “big names” are the exact same except a lot of them also have school. If you want someone to read your stories, ask them. Say “hey, I respect you and your opinion, could you look at this for me?” They will probably say yes unless they have a good reason not to. Don’t just sit there and wait for it to happen and get mad when it doesn’t. Also, this is the third time someone has yelled at me for not reading or commenting on their fics and it makes me less inclined to leave kudos in general in case someone comes and gets mad that I read their fic but didn’t comment. So uh… don’t do this again. 

As for the community, do you want to know how to make friends? Send asks (nice ones) not on anon. We can’t interact with you if you don’t know who you are. Reblog our fics. Comment on our posts. You can’t make friends if no one knows you exist. And the only way to show you exist is show yourself in our notes, in our inboxes. Sitting in your corner of tumblr and being bitter isn’t going to help anyone. This fandom is welcoming and it is kind and it is supportive. You saw how many people came to my defense tonight. If you talk to those people, they’ll talk back, but they can’t reach out to every single Irondad blog, it just isn’t feasible. 

And finally, how to get your fics read more. Like I said, part of it is just… luck. I got in at the very beginning, as did losingmymindtonight, parkrstark, several others, and had already established myself before IW came out and the fandom got bigger. Lucky break on my part, but I’m also a good writer because I’m 25 and I have a Master’s in a writing heavy field and I’ve been writing my entire life. Sometimes it just takes practice. But there is stuff that all good fics have in common, so here we go:

1) Good grammar, good spelling, good punctuation.

I don’t know who you are so I have no idea what your writing is like, but this is stuff I had to tell college students as a teacher, so I’m just going to go over it. 

Are there line breaks between every paragraph? No? There need to be. It’s hard to read when all of the words are bunched together, meaning automatic exits will happen, regardless of content.

Do you start a new paragraph every single time a new person speaks? You should.

“When someone is speaking,” I asked, “do you put a comma before the speech tag?” Commas, not periods. Not periods then commas. Punctuation goes inside the quotation marks. 

Are you writing in first or second person (I or you)? Don’t.

Pay attention to your tenses. It is very confusing reading a story that switches tenses every sentence. 

Are you capitalizing the beginning of every sentence and proper noun? You have to. Reading all lowercase takes energy and concentration and readers don’t like to put more effort in than they’re used to. Also it’s just pointless.  

Get a beta reader. Get grammarly (but the free version, don’t pay) or another editing service. Google anything you have a question about. EDIT YOUR WRITING. 

2) New ideas

Every fandom has tropes they love, but not every fic can be a trope fic. Every fic I write is, if not completely new, a spin on a popular trope.

Yes, there are some popular field trip fics, but most of them get lost in the weeds because they are all the same. And most of the people I talk to don’t even like them. (This counts for May dies fics, sensory overload… If you’re going to write it, you have to make it different and you have to make it good.)

Look to other movies or books for ideas, check out irondad-fic-ideas, something. Write something new, something only you can write, and at least some people will notice.

3) Good characterization

Now apparently everything I write is OOC, so maybe I’m not the best person to be giving advice on this :/ (I’m still annoyed. I’m getting over it)

BUT–the best way to write a well-known character is to know the source material. Listen to the way they talk, watch how they move. Ignore fanon. It’s hard, but try. Peter isn’t actually a perpetual ray of sunshine, chatter box 12 year old like we often write him, Tony isn’t 100% sarcasm and incapable of recognizing his own feelings. 

If you can hear the character say it in their actual voice, it’s probably a good line. 

4) Misc.

Fandom rule of thumb: cute fluff and hardcore whump win out over deep character studies on convoluted plot lines. If you’re just looking for hits or maybe a fic to establish yourself, that’s a good way to do it. 

If you’re posting a multi-chapter fic, don’t post it all at once. People will comment on each chapter as you post and you’ll get more hits. 

Respond to comments, especially at the early stages. It makes your readers more invested, it builds friendships, and it makes your stats look better. 

There’s a blog that supports little known writers in this fandom! Rec your fics there!

Make sure to never, ever put “I suck at summaries” or “fic is better than summary” it is an instant turnoff. If you can’t write the thing that makes me want to read the fic well, why would I think I want to read the fic?

Tagging on AO3 is vital. Tag the right relationships, tag the right emotions (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort). I often sort just by these. Always put in the category, (M/M, F/M, etc.) and the rating. There is no reason not to, but not doing so makes people less likely to read. Always tag triggers.

Never steal fics or ideas. If a story inspires you, you can ask the author if you can write something similar and then link in your story back to theirs. Nothing will make you less popular in a fandom than stealing work.

Lastly, I know authors constantly talk about how important comments and kudos are, and they are so important to bolstering spirits, I get that, but if you aren’t writing for yourself first, you will always be disappointed. You should enjoy your fic as much when you read it in your word doc as when you read it online with comments and kudos. And maybe you write really niche stuff that doesn’t appeal to a lot of people, but churning out carbon copies of the Fandom Tropes and hoping for hits is not going to satisfy you and you will keep being frustrated.

Let’s not do this again, shall we? Next time you have a question, ask me nicely.

[mammonspeanut]

Lucifer x MC (f) ~chocolate, caramel, and maple syrup~

It has been a while since you’ve arrived at the Devildom and since day one you’ve been either straightening your hair or wearing it in some sort of bun but after emerging out of the shower today things felt different.

Looking into the foggy mirror you wipe the condensed water away and take a good look at yourself. Your dark curls were heavy from the water sticking to your still-damp skin following each curve of your body as you twist and turn in the mirror. You smile at yourself, your eyes darting over your shelves as you search for your hair cream and hair oil “Nice.”, you whisper to yourself as you finally find it.

Lucifer sat at the breakfast table impatiently waiting for MC to show up to breakfast he had already texted her four times and even rang her D.D.D. A sigh escaped his lips as he watched his brothers eat, this human has him on his toes worrying for her even though he had more important things to do. Closing his eyes he leans to the side and supports his head with one of his hands “Mammon, where is MC?”, he finally asks in defeat he didn’t want to ask him but it was pretty known that he clung to her like a leach. Mammon shoving the next pancake into his mouth replied with a sound which was pretty close to someone saying -I don’t know-, another sigh. Where was she? Suddenly he heard slow unsure steps behind him slowly approaching the now silent table “MC what excuse do y-” his question was cut short as he opened his eyes and saw her standing right next to him. “What the ever-living-”, Levi’s voice trailed off as everyone stared at her.

Her hair, usually dark brown in color, illuminated by the morning sun, deep chocolate brown to warm caramel with fine nuances of other tones of browns glistened as the rays danced in her hair. The straight hair she usually wore was nowhere to be found, large curls intertwining as if they were dancing together no-curl resembled the next as they fell just below her shoulders, tips swaying in slow motion as she moved her head. Her hair was soft as one would imagine clouds felt if it was possible to touch them yet at the same time resembling thick velvety warm chocolate flowing. She rarely wore makeup but today she decided on warm gold and brown colors for her eyeshadow complementing her now liquid Maple syrup colored eyes with which she penetrated Lucifer as the light hit them in the perfect angle sending shivers down his spine. He knew a human was incapable of looking into one’s soul yet, at that moment even he questioned if it was true. What was that thing Asmodeus call it when you did a kind of pointy thing with your eyeliner? Cat-eye? Either way, it was giving her that droopy sultry look Lucifer always loved. The apples of her cheeks were a bit rosier as usual as she had added blush to it as well as over her nose giving her a sun-kissed look with her olive-colored skin. Her lips were coated in a thin layer of chapstick to keep it rather daytime appropriate and still, it looked like she was going somewhere important. Though the scene unfolding in front of Lucifer only took a fraction of a second, for him it felt like the time was coming to a halt.

“Wow MC, you did a great job curling your hair and not to mention your makeup. You definitely have to show me how you applied your eyeliner. ~”, Asmos beamed happily MC stood there as if Lucifer had scolded her once again as she shily pushed one of her strands behind her ear “Actually, this is my natural hair.” she stammers “Excuse me what?”, Mammon blurts out as he jumps up “That simply means that is how her hair grows out of her head idiot.”, Satan explains while Mammon tries to sink his hands into MC’s hair while she doges each attempt “Don’t touch it. It won’t look like this for long if you start grabbing around in it.” she says as she flees to the other side of the table. “ I just want to feel it I’m your first remember I have the right to.”, Mammon cries “Oh hell no.” she answers as he continues to convince her to give in. She runs up next to Beelzebub and snatches two pancakes and yells:” See ya.” as she runs out of the dining room and leaves a heartbroken Mammon behind.

Through all that Lucifer just sat there, heart thumping heavily and in awe. How could she keep something like that from him he wonders, through all that they have been through and done together he has never known that in reality, she had curly hair. It wasn’t anything big but it was a part of who she was. Did that mean she was ashamed of it, but it was beautiful, how could anyone be ashamed of hair like that?

After a long day Lucifer leans back in his chair, he had decided to finish his work in his office at home where hopefully not one of his moronic brothers would disturb him. Throwing his head back he looks at the ceiling and sighs loudly, all day long he couldn’t concentrate and only think about MC and how she looked. He closed his eyes and instantly saw her in front of his mental eye, the way she walked around in RAD, how her hair would bounce when she turned her head or the way her eyes would squint and how she would cock her head to the side when she would smile or the way she would lick her lips or the way her body curved or .. or .. or . Feeling his face slowly warm as all blood rushed to his cheeks Lucifer roughly ruffled his hair and let out a loud groan “Ehm… Lucifer?”, a familiar voice quietly asks, a thought of regret crosses his mind as he slowly sinks his hands. MC, stood in the middle of his room as ever so often clutching one of her books in an oversized shirt “Sh-Should I leave?” “No..No not at all I was just… I was just thinking about this paperwork you know.”, Lucifer answers as he desperately fumbles around throwing sheets of paper on the floor. Wondering why he was losing his cool around her, Lucifer watched as MC bent over to pick up the sheets in the front of his desk. What was wrong with him, he’s normally cool and collected, on the other hand, no one ever caught him fantasizing about someone especially the person who he was fantasizing about. MCs curly head bobs back up with her signature grin as she lays all the papers back on the desk and sits next to him on the floor.

After a moment of silence, Lucifer musters up the courage and asks: “Why have you never told me?” Looking down next to him he watches MC furrow her eyebrows and blink a few times in confusion “Tell you what?”, she asks him back without lifting her head. “About your hair.” a small smile spreads across her face and by the time she looks up she has a full smile on her face while squinting her eyes. “Oh, that? I didn’t think it was as important plus, you guys got to know me without it so I just rolled with it.” “Don’t you think you should have told me? I looked like a fool today.”, lucifer snaps immediately regretting it seeing her smile drop she looks back down to her book which felt like a stab in his heart. “Well, first of all, it’s just hair and secondly for someone who wants to keep our relationship on the low for whatever reason, maybe not to be ashamed of me, don’t you think it would have been weird if you were the only one to know that I had curls. ”, she stated without emotions. After a few more moments of silence, MC stood up ready to leave the room. “Where are you going?” “Bed.”, MC answered sharply “I’m sorry for earlier I was just hurt that you wouldn’t show me first and I am not ashamed of being with you I just think that if everyone knew, it would put a target on your back. It’s my job to protect you but I can’t always be where you are.”, Lucifer apologized “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that. I know you just want to protect me but I also just crave your touch when we are outside in public, even if it’s just us interlocking our pinkies.” she apologized as if she felt Lucifer’s gaze she spun around and skipped over to Lucifer with her signature smile and grabbed his hand. “Well, guess you’re coming to bed with me.” she chirped even though he had a lot of work to do he did really want to spend some quality time with MC.

Laying in bed he slowly ran his fingers through her soft curls seeing each one separate into many more ending up in one fluffy mess as he caressed her head,  taking in her scent as he kisses the top of her head. “You’re gorgeous.”, he says absentmindedly “Shall I wear my hair like this more often?”, MC asks playfully as she looks up at Lucifer. “I want you to wear your hair only like this from now on and I am the only one allowed to touch it.” after a short pause, he looks into MC’s now dark eyes that look like the void trying to suck him in “I’m the only one who gets to touch you.”, he grumbles as he grabs a fist full of MC’s hair and rolls over on top of her “Understood?”, he asks in a low threatening voice while MC wraps her legs around his waist. MC nods softly as Lucifer leans down to kiss her neck a soft moan escapes as he softly bites into her neck.

[sleeplessandstubborn]

Emily in Paris episode 3 or it’s still more accurate than American media recent coverture on France.

Ah, I had to write that title. And I am not even talking about American Twitter. But yeah. Feel better. Somewhat I have the impression that this is going to substitute the still a better love story than Twilight in my mind. But, I’m sorry, Stephenie Meyer, I am not here for that but to make a belated, totally improvised, not at all completely planned recap of Episode 3 of Emily in Paris, your favourite Instagram version of the French capital.

So episode 3 starts with our heroine running, as she usually does every morning. Why this Paris is more empty than the town where I live which has like 25,000 inhabitants? So many questions about where did people go. The case is her boss in Chicago calls. Yes, the one who speaks French and should be now best friends with Sylvie but it’s stuck in Chicago with her pregnancy.

I know, Madeline, I know. It would be frustrating for me too that the main trait of my personality was I’m pregnant and on my bed. They both exchange about how now that Doug dumped her Emily’s life is full of croissants and sex, when actually is about sex. Also Emily meets street furniture. As does Madeline, too. I guess that’s not the kind of idea she had of meeting French men. Thanks Anne! Hidalgo of course.

Madeline is sending Emily the corporate commandments for Savoir. Yikes, I thought again, a cultural clash is coming and what are corporate commandments anyway (I don’t know, sounds tacky, I’m just a puzzled European), but for now there are another problems to solve. Emily’s shower breaks, the building manager only speaks French and of course our leading lady is still struggling with understanding it. Also, sidenote: manager building is right with Miss Cooper. Only problems.

Fortunately Gabriel exists and he helps her to break the language barrier. But this isn’t going to magically repair her shower and so Emily has to wash her hair in one of humanity’s wonders, one apex of civilization, the bidet. It’s supposed to be a bad hair day for her afterwards but... Does she look that different? Well, not for me! Discuss:

This shows... A character development! At last! Emily is trying to learn French, and even if her beret isn’t going to help in the task, is good to see she’s trying to adapt. Still, she’s overdoing a bit with that Gioconda bag.

I mean, girl. Relax. In order to improve her knowledge, she tries to trick her teacher - who considers a working place full of French people must be an interesting environment where to study the behaviour of the Emily Cooperius Chicagoensis but refuses the pleasure of her company if there’s not a 50 euros banknote in between. Business is business after all. Cut to Emily reuniting with my adored godess Sylvie, whose elegance and beauty only can be matched with the flag of the twelve stars in the background. Ah, Freude, schöner Götterfunken/ Tochter aus Elysium,/ Wir betreten feuertrunken/ Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

Well, the case is they are going to film the advertisement for De l’Heure today and it’s an important thing Emily keeps her mouth closed and unsmiling because she looks stupid, at least in Sylvie’s opinion. I’d say more scary but well.

Luc and Julien receive them with the enraged face of every European citizen who just met an aggresive attempt  of being forced into the American Way of Doing Things. Which they refuse naturally. Madeline just sent the corporate commandments and everyone is pissed at nonsense like giving praise in public and critizising in private. But off to filming the spot for the perfume. The location is the Pont d’Alexandre III that has featured in like 20,000 advertisement for fragrances. Here they met Antoine and Emily has the twentieth humiliating experience with languages telling she’s horny out of a sudden when she wanted to mean excited.

Emily meets the model, a Serbian blonde beauty that doesn’t speak French, that’s her personality trait. Our heroine seems rejoiced to find at least a kindred soul but we won’t have more time with the model, whose task is to walk across the bridge naked - or wearing the perfume, Antoine says - , while surrounded by men in costumes. The campaign Dream of Beauty, in short. Emily’s reaction is this:

Antoine argues this is meant to represent the woman’s fantasy, to be desired by all these men. Emily doesn’t think this is going to be appreciated by women at the other side of the Atlantic ocean and says the idea is sexists rather than sexy. Filming stop for they to debate, which seems expensive. Stopping, not debating. Without entering on what fantasies are valid or not and who actually pays attention to advertisements for fragrances - I am not one of these people - we don’t get to learn if Emily knows who Cocteau was.

The following morning the plumber can’t fix Emily’s shower. His gestures are pretty easy to understand, as it’s an universal fact that often the pieces needed to repair are not immediately available. Anyway, Emily asks Gabriel to help her with translation again. She must pay him or something. The thing doesn’t get to be fixed and Emily gets to shower in Gabriel’s appartment.

Maybe he has a fantasy of some sort here? Who knows. At the office and after her class, Emily’s first conversation of the day with Sylvie goes, as usual, for a rocky start. She has made lost money and time to the company, her boss argues, and on top of that she’s the prude police. The final straw for Emily immediately after that is that someone (called Luc) drew a dick on the Sacred Corporate Commandments. Having forgotten the fact that drawing penises is part of the human nature since the dawn of times, Emily doesn’t take well the profanation. It’s too much so she goes to lunch with Mindy.

Mindy - who is celebrating a party later and invites her - rolls her eyes at the corporate commandments and more or less say she deserves the hate because she could not expect French people were going to receive that gladly because they are against all. Well, it’s one of their multiple charms. “People like me! That’s my thing!” , Emily argues. Oh my sweet Summer child... Once back at the office, the commercial is as nonsensical as your average perfume commercial. Emily suggests a poll on Twitter to decide if it’s sexy or sexists. Bad or good, they’ll have publicity. Sounds about right?

One day I want to be Sylvie when she answers, after Emily invited her to Mandy’s party: Sorry, I’m busy. Also when she goes on with a mini the reason you suck moment: “You come to Paris. You walk into my office. You don’t even bother to learn the language. You treat the city like it’s your amusement park”. Apparently Emily can’t wrap her head around the idea of not everyone liking her and that you don’t have why to be friends with your bosses or workmates. Girl, just a civilized relationship with them is enough. Anyway... Emily does invite her, incapable of taking a no for an answer.

As predictable - don’t say you didn’t predict it - the party is a bit crowded and, leaving aside Mindy, Emily doesn’t know anyone there. Because, Sylvie knowing better, she didn’t show up. Well done Madame. Out of water again, Emily finds an apparently cute boy who engages in a conversation with her. With hand kissing at the balcony at all.

All it’s very romantic until, when they are strolling the streets and after flirting a bit, Fabien I think was his name - sorry, not checking again - tells her he likes American pussies. This is too much information all of a sudden for Emily - even if it could lead her to learn another the meaning of a new French word, equally related with felines - and storms off to Gabriel’s restaurant. Why is a thing the chef is there, available to serve her a glass of wine, I don’t know, I didn’t write this thing. But finally, finally, FINALLY our heroine says she’s going to stop trying being liked by everyone. Thank you Paris, you inspired some adult realities on Emily’s brain. It’s also a productive night after all because Gabriel says he likes her. So... yay? Since many of you have already seen the complete season, you know that things are... more complicated than that.

Of course the last three minutes of the episode are reserved for Emily Was Right After All moments. The poll is a success even if the commercial is not universally liked - but as Emily has learn this is not that important anymore -, she takes revenge on Luc bringing a dick shaped bread, or cake - I don’t know exactly what it is - which is a funny and irreverent way to respond him aaaand... finds a present from Antoine on her desk, lingerie from La Perla. Which is, ew, a bit creepy.

Aaaand that was all. I had to rewatch it because it had been eras since I last wrote about this series. I promise to be more disciplined with the next ones. Until then.

P.S. Down with Corporation Commandments.

[mumblesplash]

[1/4] Oh don’t worry! You don’t come off as confrontational at all! 😊 And I totally agree that the whole “this villain/antagonist has a bad day or is super sad so you should excuse their actions” thing gets real old/annoying real fast in lots of media. That’s part of the reason why I personally see Vlad as *tragic* rather than *sympathetic*: because 9.9/10 times I DON’T sympathize with him; while everyone should get a shot at having genuine happiness in their lives, Vlad has NO claim or...

[2/4] right over Maddie’s or Danny’s affections “just because [blank]”. His problems and ultimate tragedy stem from his being, at the end of the day, his own worst enemy by being the bitter, entitled, envious old man that he is, and also from the fact that he just doesn’t seem to know better. And when I say “doesn’t seem to know better”, I do NOT mean that he is in any way naive or not understanding of how his actions weigh morally and how they affect others, because he very much IS (plus...

[3/4] that would be a form of sympathy-fishing, which is also something I really just don’t care for in media), but that he seems incapable of being or even seeing himself be better or take a better road in his life, which just so happens to be a POV that *he* has inflicted on *himself* in the first place. Anyways, I’m starting to ramble (sorry about clogging your inbox!) so I just wanted to say thanks for answering my question and please remember to take care of yourself both in general and...

[4/4] during this time. ((P.S. Don’t worry about having an unreasonable amount of opinions about this stuff; I’m the early-20-something-year-old who has a lot of feelings about a show that ended almost 13 years ago who decided to enter your inbox with this to begin with 🤣🤣🤣))

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ahhh yeah ok i see what you mean, there’s definitely a big difference between ‘tragic’ and ‘sympathetic’. in the context of us, on this platform, talking about this show i’m not particularly bothered either way, but i do think there’s something to consider in that both of us are in our early 20s and know how to make that distinction, and dp was, originally, written for kids. 

children are smart, they’re more than capable of understanding complex characters and themes, but they’re also not (usually) practiced at separating their empathy from their morality, and i think there’s an extent to which creators of children’s media have a responsibility to account for that. (i’d draw a comparison with the way villains and redemption are dealt with in avatar the last airbender but it’s almost counterproductive to hold anything to *that* standard. i just finished atla yesterday and am having a lot of feelings about how much attention to detail the creators had and how much care they put into presenting complex issues in a way that *gains more meaning the older you are* but is accessible to your average gradeschooler (sorry i am SO bad at staying on topic uh where was i))

right so basically when i was in 7th grade and read harry potter to see what all the fuss was about, i fully bought into snape’s ‘redemption’ just because it made me sad for him, and now all these years later i feel vaguely betrayed by his whole character arc because he kinda sucks and almost none of the behaviors i forgave him for as a kid were excusable no matter what, and i can’t help but feel like it wouldn’t have killed jkr to, idk, show that even once after his ‘tragic backstory’ was revealed. considering this is the first example that comes to mind and also chronologically the earliest in my life, i think that’s where most of my feelings here originate. i just tend to reflexively bristle at any villain being given a tragic backstory in children’s media because of a resounding lack of trust in the adults writing them to respect their young audience enough to follow through. 

also thanks for the reminder to take care of myself, you too :) and never apologize to me for rambling, i’d be a huge hypocrite if i was bothered by that and besides i like receiving messages, even if i’m not great at responding in a timely manner 😬