#can you believe that little baby just said something so profound as all that?!

[gingerjolover]

can we prioritize jb controversially young gf pleaseeeee i vote yes

to ease y'all into it, get ya warmed up, here's a little appetizer (courtesy of my friends @boywithpinkcarnation and @ever-siince-new-york aka the loves of my life)

julien w a controversially!young gf

okay i have an (unpopular) opinion that i don't think julien would date someone controversially young not because there's something wrong with it but because she will get so existential and I feel like she would feel bad if your brain wasn't fully developed lol

however!!!! this aside, lets continue

I don't think it would be a best friends little siblings scenario or like the kid of someone on her team or the bg team

young!gf is probably a writer or an artist of some kind and julien is either a fan or is at a charity event or something similar and she meets boygenius and they all instantly love her sm

and jules and young!gf really hit it off and so julien leaves with her number but doesn't find out shes young until like 3 days later

has an absolute crisis about it, especially because she doesn't want to hurt you or change you

thinking young!gf is 20 about to be 21, like just old enough that some people will be like um??? but also you're a whole-ass adult so you can do what ya want

but julien and young!gf have a very serious convo bc they are both feeling the vibe and julien just wants a healthy, mutually beneficial, safe, and loving relationship

but anyways

lets get right to it, phoebe and lucy and MUNA love you

like the love u sm but they also love teasing julien

julien could be getting up from a chair or like be laying on the floor and phoebe is yelling "life alert" to you, a glare pushing its way onto jules's face

phoebe is the biggest instigator, always snapping photos of you both candidly and adding them to her photo dumps

I had that phoebe buys young!gf a t-shirt that says I love milfs but @boywithpinkcarnation said a shirt with I <3 cougars and its iconic honestly

phoebe will 1000% caption a photo of you sitting on jb's lap and be like "sugar daddy vibes🤑" or one of jb sitting on your lap with the caption "jb is taking babysitting wayyy too seriously" (@boywithpinkcarnation)

they all call you baby and they mean it

katie is the second biggest instigator and right after that is lucy, then nomi, then jo

katie always teases about "respect your elders"

lucy will post a very wholesome photo of the two of you but caption it "spend time and cherish your elders, they aren't around forever❤️" (straight from social queen @boywithpinkcarnation)

eventually young!gf gets into it and starts making jokes like kelli tiktok vibes (@ever-siince-new-york)

she gets asked in a day in the life vid or a live a question about jules and shes like "I'm not sure really...i just with her for the money," and julien is in the back like that interview when lucy says they're breaking up like "baby! don't say that! it's not funny!" and she's groaning coming into frame, her hand on young!gf's head, "they're gonna start to believe you, ya know?" like all sassy how jb gets🤓☝🏼

PRIVATE BUT NOT SECRET VIBEZZZZ @ever-siince-new-york, carlena said and i quote, "like they're not lovesurging on tiktok but if the paps get jb giving hickies on film... oh well😁"

they are also STOKED for you to turn 21, since most of them are sober the idea of getting you drunk is so appealing

and jb is SO protective, like already jb has her hands on young!gf all. the. time. like in the dip of her back or on her hips or hand on the back of her neck, jb is always making some type of physical contact

BUT especially in the club or at a bar

they do get freaky on her 21st bday hehe

maybe the day after bc young!gf just lets joi keep giving her shots and julien is just standing there jaw dropped because who knew their sweet baby girl was a mf tank

but lit katie, molly, kelli, jo, nomi, lucy, and phoebe LOVE you sm, like yes you're young and everyone is pushing or already 30 but young!gf is so profound and mature but not in a way that's not acting her age, she just has a very old soul and enjoys rest and knows what she likes and what she wants

and julien loooooves this, like jules doesn't want to groom you and mold you into something you're not, she wants you to act your age and like she doesn't isolate you or make you act 28 because everyone is around that age. like she fully supports if you wanna go out and party or like do something kinda childish or if you wanted to stress about school or be homesick, julien lets you just vibe and doesn't pressure you to grow up faster, she truly just wants you to grow up without the age gap looming over you

back to the daddy!jb antics, without infantalizing you, jb handles ALL of the "adult stuff" like y'all def split bills if you live together but she manages all of the subscriptions and pays all of the utilities and makes sure your car has gas and is always maintained like takes it to get inspected and stuff

if young!gf is in school than that's your biggest priority in jb's eyes, like yes focus on school or your work and then when you graduate we'll start to divvy up the household stuff

jb just loves to care for you, like she always has an extra hair tie on her wrist and its your scrunchie like the one you love

before you live together, jb is stocking her house w your stuff to make you comfy

your fave snacks are in the kitchen, your fave drinks in the fridge

jb buys a full size of your fave perfume and body wash, she has you pick out pajamas for her dresser and puts a jewelry holder on her dresser just for you (@ever-siince-new-york 🥹)

if you're in school, jb def has a desk set up in her office or music room and its one she built and it has cute pens and stationary and a pretty keyboard and a comfy chair where you can cross your legs and then under it is built in storage for some of your books and crocheting/knitting/crafting stuff

when you move in, jb designs (w the help of lucy and Katie) your own office where you can write and paint and it has the best sunlight in the whole house

julien also gets really anxious leaving you at home, not because you're not capable but she grows so attached and is like "you'll be a different person when i come back:("

always sending flowers and dinner and gifts while on the road (@ever-siince-new-york)

not smut but smut adjacent

julien is sooooo nervous to have sex w young!gf

maybe she hasn't done it before or julien just feels a lot of pressure to take care of her

and she has to be like "do you not like me?" kinda insecurely because julien is treating her like shes glass

and jb is like "oh my god sweet girl, no no no, i- of course i- i love you!"

and she's like "you WHAT??"

#anon cutie #take a sip of da juice #small sip #julien baker x reader #julien baker x young!gf #fic coming soon! #ALSO MY KIDNEYS AND BLADDER ARE CLEAR #fuck u matty healy

[meanbossart]

Hi, just a warning for the following unhinged question. (I'm getting baby rabies.) I love seeing Dadstarion and Famstarionnstuff all over tumblr- AND of course that lil thing you drew with Drow and Astarion and fucking little Bhaalings into his belly sparked the question-

DOES DROW WANT KIDS SOMEDAY? UNCONSCIOUSLY? SUBCONSCIOUSLY? Like with the whole Sarevok, epilogue reveal, is it spoilers to ask how your Drow would deal with the new sudden urge to procreate? (Sorry if this is actually a spoiler for ANE future chapters) BUT If so, how does it manifest? Does he start nesting? Hoarding even more shiny crap and dirty rags than usual? Does he start adopting every mangy orphaned cub they come across? Does his dirty talk in bed just get progressively more and more disturbing and natally oriented that even he starts thinking "wtf" post encounter? Does he ever think about putting a round bundle under his shirt and pretending it's his and Astarions dhamphir love-child?

Also IF yes to any of the above, What would Astarion's reaction be?

TYVM

Unhinged fan of yours

First of all I love unhinged questions. Those are my favorite questions. This is an unhinged couple and It's what they deserve, so thank you for this LOL

This topic, at least in this context, never comes up in ANE so I think i can answer it without anything being considered a spoiler.

"Currently" I definitely don't think either of them consider the idea of children in the slightest, while both probably get on with kids relatively well, in their own weird ways (kids love weird people) they're strongly in the "don't want kids and never will" frame of mind despite any joking and uh thematic dirty talking.

THAT BEING SAID, they are both bound to exist for a long time. Depending on how things turn out for him, Astarion's lifespan is either a good 700 years or a big Ol Forever. Drows also live for up to seven centuries and I don't even know whether or not DU Drow's particular kind of Bhaalspawn-ness doesn't affect that, as you could argue he's some type of demigod. The idea that they may change their mind at some point is not out of the question.

In regards to DU drow getting a baby fever in the future, I do think it will be something they have to deal with. Obviously, him and Astarion can't procreate as they are, and even if magical options exist DU drow is still aware that it would be a bad idea to follow through with it. I have honestly no clue how a desire like that would externalize, but - and I hate to be a downer but I assume you want my sincere answer here - based on Sarevok's letter I don't actually think it would be as fun as the bedroom talk or the cracks he makes - it sounds like it would be a spiraling depression and state of unfulfillment that they would simply have to learn to cope with if he is to remain childless, peppered with a profound yearning for a More he can't quite pin down. Luckily I think Astarion's character has demonstrated time and time again that he has the ability to be extremely sensible towards that type of thing, and he would be pretty much the ideal partner in those circumstances (especially if we're talking an older, more mature Astarion). An adoptive child could sate that, or it could not, I have no idea, but I don't think he would ever just say "yeah fuck it lets have/get a kid" in response to it.

Either way, as I mentioned above I believe it's not out of the question (if not inevitable?) that they could come to become someone's guardians someday regardless, especially if they ever become more firmly settled in life and the people they are. I doubt it's something they will ever actively seek out (I don't really see them ever completely retiring from a dangerous lifestyle of their own will) but maybe they stumble upon an orphan or, more likely, kill some kid's actual parents and out of guilt keep it for long enough to develop a bond. Lets say this happens out on the road - maybe they want to at least drop it off at a city somewhere where the thing would have a better chance, but ultimately decide against it for whatever reason... Yeah I could see something like that happening lol It's a cute thought, and funny enough I don't think they would make the Worst parents, assuming their character developments continues in a generally positive direction.

#ask #DU drow

[missmagooglie]

The promo for next week is what made it clear that Buck is regressing regressing. All that bullshit he's suggesting to Chim? All those proposals that Bobby (correctly) said were just a list of potential calls?

That's Season 1 Buck talking. That's Early Abby Days, pre She Needs You To Step Inside With Her Buck who wants love and romance but doesn't know what it's supposed to look like. That's a version of Buck who isn't ready for something quite so grown up.

Our Buck, Season 6 Buck, knows better than that. He knows Chimney and he knows Maddie and if he stopped and thought about it for half a second he would realize that a big showy proposal isn't right for them. He'd realize that the right approach is something more personal, more intimate. It's Chimney sitting Maddie down and saying, 'we both know there are plenty of reasons we "should" get married, but let me take a minute to make sure you understand the reasons I want to marry you', and giving Maddie space to express all the reasons she's hesitant rather than putting her on the spot with something public that pressures her into saying yes without a conversation.

Buck's been different since the lightning strike, sure. It was a big event, it had a profound psychological effect. But I think the bigger issue here is that Buck has been growing and changing and maturing for the past 6 seasons and he hasn't had a chance yet to properly acknowledge that to himself and update his self-concept. I think the reason we're seeing Buck regress so hard is because he's consciously trying to act like "the same old Buck", but his understanding of "what it means to be Buck" hasn't kept up with the growth he's been doing.

At the gravesite, Buck says he feels like Natalia "really sees him" - which, let's be real, is an insane thing to say about a person you've just met on a good day. And he's saying it to Eddie, who the writers have made abundantly clear is the one person who most sees Buck and understands him and has seen his growth and his insecurities even when others don't.

But the thing I think Buck is getting from Natalia is actually the opposite of what Buck thinks he's getting from her. When Buck says "she sees me", he means "She only sees this me. She doesn't know the man who died, just the man who woke up again."

And while there is some value in that, mostly in allowing himself to be his "now" self without worrying about how it might or might not align with his past self, I think Buck also needs someone who can help him understand that those two versions of himself are closer to each other than he thinks. And the version of himself he's trying to be for the sake of everyone else (ie "the same old Buck") is not the version of him that his loved ones lost at the top of that ladder.

The lightning strike changed Buck - after all, how could it not? And Buck, being someone who is so used to being left behind, is naturally worried that changing who he is will cause the people he loves to leave. But that isn't something Buck needs to be afraid of, because he's been changing for a long time now and he has people who love every version of him, and will continue to love every version that comes next.

And I keep thinking about that choice to have Christopher fall asleep on the couch just like Buck did, the way it puts Christopher and Buck in the same category for Eddie - that category of "family" and "home". Because Christopher is changing too. He's growing up. The man he is going to slowly become is not the same person as the boy he is now, and it is understood that while some of that growth might be painful it is normal and natural and to be expected. And there is not a single direction in which Christopher could grow that would make Eddie love him even a little bit less.

When Buck realizes that Eddie loves him the same way? That there is no version of Buck that Eddie will not love with his whole heart? And when he doesn't just realize it, but actually believes it?

That's the endgame, baby.

#911onfox #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #buddie #911 s6 #911 spoilers #911 meta

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,162 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: language, mentions of injury A/N: This is part of a series! You can find the rest on my Master List, the pinned post on my blog.

Summary: Injured and scattered, the group tries to find each other.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl,

Our son is two years old today. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s changed in only the last few months. It used to be that you could only make out baby babble with a few words here and there, and now he’s stringing together full sentences, expressing his own original thoughts. He looks less like a toddler every day and more and more like a little kid, soon to be asking questions about the world that will be harder and harder for me to answer. He reminds me of you in so many ways and I hold onto this part of you extra tight. When I think of how much you’ve missed of his little life, of all the milestones we’ve already passed, every part of me aches, and to know he’s missed out on having you too... that hurts even worse. I know you would be the most amazing dad. You love as fiercely as anyone could.

When I think of you at all, it nearly stops me to a grinding halt, could bring me to my knees, the pain is still that sharp. If we never find each other again, I think I’ll walk around forever with this poignant sense of something profound missing. It’s hard to write this, but if it wasn’t for DJ, I may have given up by now… But if I know anything, it’s that you’re out there somewhere, still alive, still surviving, still protecting the people you love. I know that beyond any doubt, because that’s who you are. I just hope that in our continued wandering that we find some sign of you. I don’t know what it would be—but Jen keeps telling me not to give up hope, to trust that my intuition is right.

I’m not having that dream anymore—the one I wrote about before where you’re calling for me from the other side of the glass—but lately I’ve been having a new one. I find you again, out in the woods, wandering, and then the next moment you’ve vanished. It’s almost worse than the last dream, because I think I have you and then a moment later I lose you all over again. It feels so unbelievably real. I wake up completely gutted with my cheeks wet. I have to reach for DJ every time.

God, I miss you.

It’s hitting me hard today, on DJ’s birthday. I hope you’re safe wherever you are…

With love, Y/N Daryl was mentally running through the parts of your book he’d already read, and wishing he’d made the time to read more, but he was also thanking himself for not bringing it along. He was certain The Reapers had gone through his pack. He didn’t know what would have happened if Leah had found it… She’d know he’d found you again and then all of this—his pretended disconnection from “those people on the road” and the implied feelings he was manufacturing for her—it wouldn’t have been available for him to try to keep his family and Alexandria safe.

His hand strayed to the left breast of his vest and he could feel the stiffness of the picture in the lining. It was comforting. He hadn’t slept. He was too afraid to. His mind was too busy. He laid on his back on a cot, far off in a corner, and waited.

It had to be near first light when he heard bootsteps coming up the hallway outside. He turned his ear toward the sound, listening intently for anything else that could signal what was happening.

Carver showed up in the doorway. “Get up, dickhead,” he spat. “We’re moving on that info.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

A hand on your shoulder shook you awake and you startled at the sudden jolt.

“Easy.” Negan’s voice. His hazel eyes were looking right into yours beneath his raised eyebrows. The point of your blade was at his throat.

You let out the breath you’d been holding and lowered it.

Negan was in front of you, palms out. He relaxed as your knife left his neck. “I’m a little worried that reflex isn’t going to stop short one of these times,” he said.

You shifted so you could better sit up against the back of the dingy armchair. “Then stop surprising me,” you said. You winced as you moved and couldn’t help drawing in a sharp hiss of breath between your teeth. Your side, the knife wound from The Reapers, felt like it was on fire. “Fuck…” you murmured, shifting to attempt to relieve the worst of the pain to little success.

Negan’s brow furrowed. “How ya feelin’?” You thought you could hear genuine concern in his voice.

You shook your head. “Not at my best, but I’ve had worse,” you said.

He went on frowning at you. He swept a hand back over his short hair. “I don’t doubt it but, uhh, no offense… you look like shit. I don’t think the whole pale, graying skin thing suits you at all. I woke you up because I was starting to get a little paranoid that you might not wake up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so dramatic,” you scolded him.

Negan gave you a small tight smile despite the situation. “Can’t. Drama. Theater… It’s kind of my thing,” he retorted. He watched as you pulled your shirt up to look at the wound on your side. The surrounding area and the wound itself were an angry shade of red.

Negan saw it. “Well, fuck. That doesn’t look good.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and leaned back against the chair. You’d flushed the stab wound out as best you could and applied ointment but it didn’t seem to have been enough. “No shit,” you said. “Any other earth-shattering observations you want to hit me with?”

Negan let out a dry laugh and straightened up, grabbing his crowbar from where it was leaning against a dusty couch and swinging it absently. “You know, I am actually trying to help you here. You see anybody else around?”

You sighed. “Right. Right… Sorry. Just—this whole situation is—”

“Complete and utter-fucked, five ways ‘til Friday bullshit?” Negan finished for you.

You gave him a long look but eventually nodded. “Yeah.” You pulled your shirt up again and looked at the neatly stitched wound. Negan had helped you with that the night before, and you had to hand it to him that he’d done a good job. “It’s a local infection or the start of one,” you said softly. You paused to think. You had limited medical supplies left and had used the last of the antibacterial ointment the night before patching up your side and Negan’s leg.

“Alright, so, can we kick its ass before it becomes un-local? From what I hear, that’s something to avoid, what with the lack of hospitals and meds these days.”

You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. The burning and pulse you could feel in your whole side made it hard to think. “Hopefully…”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression darkening like a cloud passing across the face of the moon. “You have a fever?” he asked, and you heard some apprehension in his voice.

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.” You mopped at the cold sweat on your brow even as you answered, but you were pretty sure that was just from the pain.

Negan cleared his throat and stepped closer hesitantly. “Can I check without you slitting my throat?” he asked. “I’ve actually already had that done, courtesy of Rick, and it isn’t something I’d like to repeat.”

“Fine.”

He bent his tall frame and put the back of his hand on your forehead. He shook his head and let out a hugely relieved sigh. “No. No, I think you’re good.” You gave him a questioning look. “I had the thought that maybe they’d coated their blades… so that anyone that didn’t die right away would go full-blown undead asshole.”

You fixed a steely stare on him. “Oh, you mean like you did. To the Hilltop.”

Negan gulped and his face fell. His eyes turned down to the floor. “Maggie told you about that, huh?” he said softly.

“Mhm…”

“Yeah. That was pretty fucked up.” He was still avoiding your eyes. “But it was effective...”

“Negan—” you started angrily.

“Hey, I’m just stating a fact! And to be fair, it was a fucking war! I was looking after my own the same way—” he broke off abruptly at the look on your face.

You shook your head. “No. Not the same way I do. Not the same way they were. Not even close.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never done anything royally fucked up to keep yourself or people you care about alive? Hmm? Doll,” he said, swinging his crowbar up onto his shoulder, a smirk on his face, “I ain’t buyin’ it.”

You scowled at him. “Don’t call me ‘doll.’ In fact, let’s just table any more nicknames you’ve got floating around in your head. And let’s get one thing straight, Negan. You didn’t care about those people at The Sanctuary. You gave them barely enough to stay alive and it wasn’t even a life. The only person you actually gave a shit about was yourself. And have I done fucked up shit? Yeah. Plenty. To keep me and my son alive… not to set myself up as some sort of wannabe god to assuage my bloated ego,” you spat at him, wincing and putting a hand over your side again and shutting your eyes.

There was a tense pause and then Negan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and another small laugh escaped him. “I can’t really argue with most of that. You’re right. And I see that Maggie and Daryl have been pretty thorough in catching you up already.” He sighed and sank back down on the wooden chair across the room from you. “But none of that shit matters right now. So, what do we do about your tidy little ticking time bomb there? You have any more of that—”

“No, we used almost everything up last night,” you interrupted him.

Negan laughed humorously. “Now let me make something clear here; you’ve gotta be okay,” he said emphatically. “If something happens to you while you’re with me, Daryl will fucking murder me. That is not an exaggeration. No, he won’t just murder me—he’d probably carve off little pieces slowly. He isn’t gonna hear that it wasn’t my fault. So, for your health and mine,” Negan said, fiddling with the crowbar across his knees, “we’ve got to figure this out. So, what do I need to do? You obviously can’t go anywhere fast at the moment, which is really what we need.”

Your ground your teeth together and Negan saw the muscle in your jaw tense. “You’re going to have to find me some moss and get us some water and fuel for a fire.” Negan stared at you blankly.

“Sorry, did you say fucking moss?”

You nodded. “Yeah. A specific kind. I’m gonna tell you where it grows and what it looks like.” You pulled your pack closer and dug around inside it until you pulled out a small cloth bag and held it out to him.

“Is now the right time for a scavenger hunt?” he asked, but he got up and accepted the bag from you.

“A lot of mosses have antimicrobial properties that should fight the infection and—look, just do what I’m fucking asking, okay? Or I can go myself. Like I said, I’ve had worse,” you started getting out of the chair, pushing yourself up on the arms but the pain in your side seemed to ricochet through the rest of your abdomen and chest and you quickly froze, only partially standing.

“Whoa!” Negan grabbed your upper arm and helped you lower back down into the seat. His leg didn’t feel great, but it was definitely better than your side. “I’ll get it! Fuck, just sit the fuck down,” he shook his head at you. “I can see why you and that pain in the ass Daryl are together. Stubborn with an attitude,” he said with some amusement. “Moss. Water. Fuel. I can handle that. Just tell me what I need to know…”

You did. And Negan set out and returned a couple hours later with all of it.

Soon you had a fire going in one corner near a broken-out window, any smoke trailing up and out—though you’d made sure all the fuel was dry as a bone so it wouldn’t lead The Reapers straight to you. The water had finished boiling and was sitting to cool a bit. Negan was watching you with interest from his seat again as you cleaned as much debris out of the moss as you could.

Negan was casually peeling the bark off a stick, sitting on the stiff wooden chair and watching you work. “Are you going to tell me what the deal is with you and Daryl or what?” he asked.

Your eyes flickered up to his face for a moment and you paused, completely still. Then you went back to what you were doing. “No,” you said simply.

“Ahh, come on. What the hell else are we gonna talk about? I’m dying to know how exactly he ended up having a kid he didn’t seem to know about. Especially one that looks to be about ten years old.”

You tossed the handful of debris you’d been picking out of the moss into the fire. “I’m sure you are. But you’re the last person I’m going to discuss my personal life with, Negan.”

Negan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Come on. It’ll pass the time!”

You fixed your gaze on him for a long moment. “I’ll give you one question,” you said, dusting off your hands.

“Hot damn!” Negan grinned. “I better make it a good one… Hmm. Let’s see…” A smirk grew on his face. “So, are you guys fucking again? I mean what’s the current status?”

“Negan!” you barked back at him angrily, color flaring in your face. He only chuckled.

“It’s just a question! Anybody can see the guy is head over heels. That was obvious by the way he looked like he was mentally dismembering me anytime I came within ten feet of you.”

You only glared at him. “Do me and yourself a favor and shut the fuck up,” you growled. You collected the moss and plunged some of it into the still warm water and let it soak for a few seconds. Then you removed it and wrung most of the water out. Negan watched with interest as you packed it over the wound in your side and secured it around your body with a long makeshift bandage you’d fashioned from a spare flannel you’d had stowed in your pack.

“That’s gonna fight off infection?” Negan asked, interested. “Seems counter-intuitive to stick some dirty shit you found outside right over a wound.”

“It’s not dirty. And yes, hopefully. Long before we had modern medicine, plants were doing what doctors and pills used to,” you said, climbing to your feet and sinking back into the armchair again with a sigh.

“How the hell did you learn this?” Negan asked, digging in his pack for his MRE and tearing off the top.

You shrugged. “Aren’t we all picking up new things all the time? One of my people, from my last community, knew a lot about medicinal and edible plants. I paid attention.”

Negan nodded, scooping another bite into his mouth. “So, we gotta just wait now?”

You nodded. “Just have to let it do its job.” You sunk back more heavily into the chair and closed your eyes, but they were only shut a moment before Negan’s voice broke the silence again.

“You’re really not going to tell me about you and Daryl?”

Your eyes opened. “No. I’m not.”

He sighed. “What if I tell you about my wife?” he said softly.

Your brow furrowed. “Which one?” you asked sharply.

“The real one.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning, you woke up gently. Negan was already awake, standing at one of the dingy windows, staring thoughtfully outside. He turned when he heard you shifting. “You’re looking better,” Negan commented.

You stood and moved without pangs of pain and sighed with relief. Unbinding your bandage and peeling the poultice from the wound, you saw that the redness was gone and it was no longer inflamed. The moss had done its job. You applied fresh, dry moss over the stitches and rebound the bandage.

Negan wandered over, watching you closely. “You good?”

You looked up and nodded. “Yeah.” You paused. “Thanks. For your help yesterday with getting all that stuff.” He nodded once. You slung your pack up onto your shoulder. “Come on. We’ve gotta get to that house. Maybe the others are waiting there.”

“You can’t be serious,” Negan said, nearly stepping in your way as you moved toward the door. “You want to keep going? We don’t even know if anyone else made it.”

You started to unbarricade the door with a grunt of effort. “They did,” you said matter-of-factly.

Negan shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do!” you snapped at him, standing up straight. For the first time, Negan saw something like desperation in your eyes. “They made it,” you said firmly, but he heard the shake in your voice. “Now, help me move this…”

Negan looked at you for a long moment and then sighed and pushed the heavy oak desk out of the path of the door.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Maggie, Gabriel, and Elijah waited in silence. The air was heavy with anxiety and Maggie found herself alternately pacing the length of the room and then standing frozen at the window, peering out through the wooden slats. Through the narrow space, she saw figures moving on the street outside but it was difficult to see through the leaves of the shrubs close to the house. “I got movement comin’ up on this side.”

Elijah stood and went to another window near the front door. His knife was in his hand.

“Oh my God. Oh, thank God,” Maggie suddenly sighed. “It’s alright. It’s Negan and Y/N,” she said, happy tears in her eyes.

A moment later, Elijah pulled the door open and the two of you stepped into the dilapidated interior, Maggie rushed over and grabbed you in a hug. “Thank God you’re alright,” she said.

You tightened your free arm around her, bow in your hand at your other side. “You too. All of you,” you said, looking at Elijah and Gabriel as she broke away, but at the same moment your heart sank. “Daryl?” you asked, your brow furrowing and casting a shadow over your momentary relief at seeing the others.

Maggie shook her head. “We don’t know. We haven’t seen Daryl or Frost. Alden’s hurt bad. I left him someplace safe,” she said, her voice breaking. “Agatha. Duncan. They’re gone...”

You hung your head and closed your eyes for a long moment. “Fuck…” Your knuckles shone white as you gripped riser of your bow hard. “Goddammit… I’m so sorry.”

She nodded solemnly and then scrutinized you and Negan more closely. “How are you two?”

You moved farther into the house and stood beside the small stash of supplies. “We took a little damage but I think we’ll be fine. What’s the plan?” you asked, getting straight back to your purpose.

“We’ll wait a little longer for Daryl and Frost, in case they’re tryin’ to get here. But then we have to move. It’s not too far to Meridian from here.”

Negan let out a small scoff and paced away in a small circle, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Maggie bristled. “Somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Maggie, look at us. We’re hurt. There are only four of us. One more encounter like the one we just had and that number is going to drop to zero.”

“People back home are dependin’ on us. Hungry kids. If we can’t make this work, Alexandria is done.”

Negan sighed and leaned back against the wall, but he stayed quiet.

“So, unless you’ve gotta somethin’ helpful to add, just keep your mouth shut for once in your life,” she snapped at him.

“Hey—” Elijah said suddenly. “Something’s up.” _ _ _ _ _ _

The heavy bootsteps overhead seemed to press on your ear drums as the Reapers moved through the house. Your heart was hammering in your throat. Then suddenly—Daryl’s voice. You clapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gasping with relief. Alive. He was alive. He was okay. But then your stomach plummeted into the pit of your stomach. But why was he with them?

It didn’t take long for you to realize what was going on. A voice. A woman. “You’re either with us, or you’re not.” Leah. It had to be Leah. It was the only thing that made sense.

Your chest tightened and it was harder for you to draw in even shallow breaths. You closed your eyes, straining your hearing. Daryl again. “What do you want me to do?”

Then it was obvious; Daryl was dropping as much info as he could to you hiding below. 20 people. Weapons. Supplies. Walls. And then he was picking a fight on purpose with this “Carver” asshole.

“Shaw. Wake. Up. Everything is a test now,” Carver spat. “If you think this guy is ever going to give a shit about any of us, you’re gonna fail.”

“He’s right,” Daryl said quickly. “I don’t give a shit about any of you. Except you.” You felt a sharp pain between your lungs. “I’m here for you. It’s no secret I made mistakes. But I’m here right now.”

You were trying to suppress a rising wave of nausea. You could feel Maggie and Negan looking your way and you ducked your eyes, kept them down-turned to the cement of the cellar floor. A second later, Maggie touched you on the sleeve and tilted her head toward the cellar door. With Daryl distracting Leah and Carver, you snuck away, but the painful bubble in the middle of your chest stayed with you.

When you were finally safely away from the town the Reapers had been combing, Maggie stopped all of you. “We can stop for a minute,” she said, out of breath just like the rest of you from rushing through the woods. “We’re getting’ close. About three miles out.”

Negan let out a disbelieving laugh again, but you silenced him with a look. Maggie turned to you and touched you on the arm and spoke to you in a soft undertone. “You know Daryl was only sayin’ those things to—”

“I know,” you interrupted her, nodding, but your face was downturned. It still felt like a knife was lodged upward between your lungs. Listening in on that, Daryl saying those things to another woman, to her, had been excruciating. You hadn’t even realized how much so until you were out of the immediate danger. They seemed to ring in your head. “I’m here for you.” “I made mistakes.”

Maggie frowned softly. “Y/N, you and DJ are his whole life. I was there. I saw it. I saw how he was after. We almost lost him when he lost you. And then he never gave up on you. He never stopped searchin’. Whoever she is, she’s nothin’ to him compared to you. Believe that. Trust it.”

You gulped and nodded again and managed to give her a forced smile, though the worry line stayed between your brows. “What’s the plan for taking care of these assholes?”

You all turned as sticks cracked nearby. Walkers were wandering in. Everyone fingered their weapon but Maggie stopped you. “Wait,” she said, looking at more following behind out of the trees. She glanced back at the group of you. “Think we can find more?”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl x you #twd reader insert

[youmightbeautistic]

‘Fancy Believing in the Goblin King’

My friend told me a story he hadn’t told anyone for years. When he used to tell it years ago people would laugh and say, ‘Who’d believe that? How can that be true? That’s daft.’ So he didn’t tell it again for ages. But for some reason, last night, he knew it would be just the kind of story I would love.

When he was a kid, he said, they didn’t use the word autism, they just said ‘shy’, or ‘isn’t very good at being around strangers or lots of people.’ But that’s what he was, and is, and he doesn’t mind telling anyone. It’s just a matter of fact with him, and sometimes it makes him sound a little and act different, but that’s okay.

Anyway, when he was a kid it was the middle of the 1980s and they were still saying ‘shy’ or ‘withdrawn’ rather than ‘autistic’. He went to London with his mother to see a special screening of a new film he really loved. He must have won a competition or something, I think. Some of the details he can’t quite remember, but he thinks it must have been London they went to, and the film…! Well, the film is one of my all-time favourites, too. It’s a dark, mysterious fantasy movie. Every single frame is crammed with puppets and goblins. There are silly songs and a goblin king who wears clingy silver tights and who kidnaps a baby and this is what kickstarts the whole adventure.

It was ‘Labyrinth’, of course, and the star was David Bowie, and he was there to meet the children who had come to see this special screening.

‘I met David Bowie once,’ was the thing that my friend said, that caught my attention.

‘You did? When was this?’ I was amazed, and surprised, too, at the casual way he brought this revelation out. Almost anyone else I know would have told the tale a million times already.

He seemed surprised I would want to know, and he told me the whole thing, all out of order, and I eked the details out of him.

He told the story as if it was he’d been on an adventure back then, and he wasn’t quite allowed to tell the story. Like there was a pact, or a magic spell surrounding it. As if something profound and peculiar would occur if he broke the confidence.

It was thirty years ago and all us kids who’d loved Labyrinth then, and who still love it now, are all middle-aged. Saddest of all, the Goblin King is dead. Does the magic still exist?

I asked him what happened on his adventure.

‘I was withdrawn, more withdrawn than the other kids. We all got a signed poster. Because I was so shy, they put me in a separate room, to one side, and so I got to meet him alone. He’d heard I was shy and it was his idea. He spent thirty minutes with me.

‘He gave me this mask. This one. Look.

‘He said: ‘This is an invisible mask, you see?

‘He took it off his own face and looked around like he was scared and uncomfortable all of a sudden. He passed me his invisible mask. ‘Put it on,’ he told me. ‘It’s magic.’

‘And so I did.

‘Then he told me, ‘I always feel afraid, just the same as you. But I wear this mask every single day. And it doesn’t take the fear away, but it makes it feel a bit better. I feel brave enough then to face the whole world and all the people. And now you will, too.

‘I sat there in his magic mask, looking through the eyes at David Bowie and it was true, I did feel better.

‘Then I watched as he made another magic mask. He spun it out of thin air, out of nothing at all. He finished it and smiled and then he put it on. And he looked so relieved and pleased. He smiled at me.

‘’Now we’ve both got invisible masks. We can both see through them perfectly well and no one would know we’re even wearing them,’ he said.

‘So, I felt incredibly comfortable. It was the first time I felt safe in my whole life.

‘It was magic. He was a wizard. He was a goblin king, grinning at me.

‘I still keep the mask, of course. This is it, now. Look.’

I kept asking my friend questions, amazed by his story. I loved it and wanted all the details. How many other kids? Did they have puppets from the film there, as well? What was David Bowie wearing? I imagined him in his lilac suit from Live Aid. Or maybe he was dressed as the Goblin King in lacy ruffles and cobwebs and glitter.

What was the last thing he said to you, when you had to say goodbye?

‘David Bowie said, ‘I’m always afraid as well. But this is how you can feel brave in the world.’ And then it was over. I’ve never forgotten it. And years later I cried when I heard he had passed.’

My friend was surprised I was delighted by this tale.

‘The normal reaction is: that’s just a stupid story. Fancy believing in an invisible mask.’

But I do. I really believe in it.

And it’s the best story I’ve heard all year.

— Paul Magrs

#autism #actually autistic #paul magrs #david bowie #labyrinth #masking #anecdotes #inspiration #social skills #this is a repost of a post that went viral here in 2017 #the previous post breaks when you reblog it - the line breaks go away #you can find the original at https://www.tumblr.com/yourfluffiestnightmare/166019008108/ but like i said it's broken #op

[mangacat201]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday(ish)

Cause what is even this day, it just seems to go on and on...

Tagged by @cal-daisies-and-briars and so many times before by @thewolvesof1998, thank you guys, for not giving up on me, even though I rarely have something of my own to contribute.

But to celebrate that the punkrock!band AU has been through the final beta (I'm only waiting on some music stuff to be sorted out) and the final chapter + epilogue will hopefully post VERY soon, I'm sharing a little snippet, enjoy!

§

The energy of the crowd hasn’t wavered since they got them with ‘Savior Baby’ in the very beginning. If anything, their audience has grown, the cheers going up whenever they wrap up a song seeming to get louder with every single track. Ravi can’t quite believe it when he leads them into the closing riff of the last song on their set list, everyone on stage sweaty, elated and glowing. 

He catches Chim out of the corner of his eye, turning around to Bobby with a long look that seems to communicate something profound and wonders what that is about. Hen claps him on the shoulder and yells a compliment of some sort into his ear, he can’t really make it out completely. Eddie is leaning against the drums, panting and grinning like a loon, while Buck… Buck is looking towards the side stage where Christopher is waving and yelling on top of his lungs: “BUCK! Buck, DO IT!!”

Buck mouths something in response that isn’t picked up by the microphone, but Chris seems to know what he said anyway, because he nods enthusiastically with a big thumbs up. And before they can all move center stage to pile on one another and take their bows, Buck turns back towards the audience, unclipping the mic so he can step up right to the edge of the stage.

§

@monsterrae1, @911onabc, @rewritetheending, @giddyupbuck, @honestlyeddie, @loserdiaz, @the-marathon-continues-nip, @comfortbuddie,

@sam-t-a, @stormkitty97, @foxweddinq, @ligiapereira

#911 abc #buddie #burning bright #cat writes #seven sentence sunday

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 31: Git Along Little Dogies

August 1890

Rainbow Junction, Nebraska

Bessie understood losing a child, or at least, she did in some sense.  She and Hosea had lost some babies, one of them achingly close to being born, and every time, she’d cried.  With George, there was an actual grave.  One she still thought about, even near twenty years later.  Pieces of her heart and soul carved out and stitched together only with the most deliberate care, leaving the scar all the same.

But even she didn’t fully know what it was like.  What she’d lost had been mostly the dreams, the hopes, the potential.  Arthur…he’d lost a child fully in the world, named and known and to judge from helping raise her sister’s kids years ago, one who’d already very much started to show a clear personality and self at four.  No, technically three.  Arthur had last seen him alive at three.  Dreams and potential, yes, but so much heartbreaking reality as well.

Three months now since he’d come back and said he found them buried, and soon enough he once again smiled and laughed and did all the usual things within their small family, but she saw that emptiness in his eyes when he thought nobody was looking.  Knew that I’m fine facade for the act it was.

Something else there too, something bleak and hard that unsettled her, but if he wouldn’t talk about his boy and the woman who’d borne him, he wasn’t going to talk about whatever happened afterwards.  She knew Arthur so well now after almost thirteen years, learned his moods and tempers and kindnesses, but he’d gone somewhere she couldn’t follow.

He’d always tended to ride off for a while to be by himself, even before he’d been making trips to see Isaac, but now sometimes those trips ended with him coming back drunk or else in the local jail for getting into a bare-knuckle brawl.  Things that would have felt like youthful idiotic high spirits in a man with energy and temper in abundance now felt like something so different. 

Dutch said Arthur just needed work.  Bessie frankly thought Dutch was full of shit on that point, but wouldn’t say so.  She could see he was so impatient for Arthur to just come back to himself.  As usual, trying to nudge things along, make them into the reality he wanted, and he probably meant well by it, but it was like trying to force a man who’d been gutshot onto his horse and demanding he go holler Git along you little dogies at the cattle and round them all up, claiming it was just for his own good.

She found him out in the barn, on the heap of feed sacks they’d put in to start to prepare for winter.  A book opened and placed facedown on his chest, and him instead staring up at the ceiling as if it had something profound written on it.

She took a deep breath, and knew this would probably either help or shatter him completely, but she couldn’t just stand by helplessly and wait.  Or shove more work at him like Dutch.  Or shove more books at him like Hosea.  Or cluck and fuss over him like Susan.

Arthur heard the whimper from the puppy she was carrying and sat up, though he put the book aside.  Still a man who valued reading enough to not carelessly throw a book to the floor and risk damaging it.  Sat there, looking at her and said, “Found another wayward critter, huh?”  An edge of rueful humor to it, the self-deprecation so familiar to her.  

“Yeah, in town.  This one was the runt.  Man was threatening to drown him, if you can believe it.”  True enough.  Though it had been in a weirdly joking way that she knew wasn’t serious, but which she couldn’t find funny all the same.

“I can believe it.  World’s a shitty place, Bessie.  My pa threatened to drown me plenty of times.”  Said with an offhanded humor, but she couldn’t find it funny either.  The puppy snuffled, wiggled, cuddling closer to her.  “Figured maybe you wouldn’t mind a late birthday present.”

His brows knit together in confusion.  “You and Hosea got me that nice shaving kit.”

“Now, Arthur.  I took the poor boy on and we all know who’s best with animals in this family, and don’t think I don’t see you petting everyone’s dogs and cats given half a chance.  So please just play along with me here.”

Also not untrue.  But hopefully he wouldn’t see what lay beneath all that.  The notion she’d had, looking at that poor last remaining puppy, that what Arthur truly needed was someone who needed him, someone to give some love to, someone to give him some happiness back.  Yes, Boadicea did some of that, but people always had a more complicated dynamic with their horses, given the dependency of a working relationship involved.  Dogs and cats?  It could be much simpler.  

He sat back a bit, shoulders easing, and she saw the faint twitch of a smile.  One of those moments he’d managed to forget the pain, to let it recede, and she thanked God for that.  She’d made the right call here.  “You got me there, I suppose.” 

“Besides, it’s been a while since we had a dog.  What, five years?”

“Seven.  We lost Midnight seven years back.”  A gleam of humor entered his eyes.  “It’s fine, we got little Johnny as a pet instead.  Now, he shits where he ought, but he still ain’t gotten the hang of not yapping all the time, though.”

“Arthur.”  She couldn’t help but chuckle all the same.  “Here.  Besides, don’t I owe you for beating me at dominos this winter?  I always said we needed something to mark the occasion should you ever manage it.”

He was smart enough to know some of what she was doing, but thankfully, he seemed to believe it was just her being a soft touch, and both of them knowing he was every bit as much of one when it came to animals.  She handed over the dog, his fur the color of a newly-minted penny, and watched him cradle the puppy close to his chest.  Already half in love, by the look of him, and laughing at the dog’s boundless energy.  “OK, there, Copper.  Yeah, you’re a good boy.”

“Copper?”

“Coloring.  And hell, we got enough lawmen sniffing out our trail at times–might be nice to have a friendly copper around for once.”

Copper seemed to agree, licking Arthur’s face.  She felt a spark of hope at that.

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2022 #rdr2 #bessie matthews #arthur morgan #copper the dog #cw: child loss #thanks for another year of yeehawgust y'all

[eggsmuses-a]

@quillheel cracked: “I’m not even close to kidding.” / fr0m gIad0s t0 wheatIey!

lazy moment / closed

#ﾞ ᴡ ——— ❝ Hahaha !! Haha, ha-- ❞ Wheatley's squinted optic quickly shrinks back into a pimple as he processes GLaDoS' words — she wasn't kidding ? But-- but that was profound ! Who would be diabolical enough to even suggest that ?

❝ You're not kidding ? Hang on, hang on, rewind please. That's not a joke ? Not ... not even a little bit ? ❞ The core is still like a deer in headlights; if he DOESN'T move, if he closes his optics enough to the point he can't see her, she can't see him. That was how that worked. Right. Yes. [Absolutely flawless, stunning. You've done it again, Wheatley. You're no moron, you're the most intelligent core in this facility — for sure !]

But she can definitely still see him, &. the burning gaze that Wheatley could assume was on him told as much. He twirls around, hoping that facing his backside to GLaDoS may deter her before ultimately deciding it's no use.

He glances back around, voice cracking with peeps suitable to a baby chick, ❝ ... it was a real funny joke though. Got a-- um. Got a good chuckle from me. Haha, nice one. Better write it down &. use it for a comedy skit. It- it'll win thousands, y'know ? That part where you said you'd kill me. Yeah. Real funny. ❞

Wheatley sinks back further &. further the more he speaks, wishing he knew how to shut up. How could he be such a blabbermouth !? Especially right now ! No, his thoughts had to be constantly incoherent &. run circles into one another whenever Wheatley gets nervous. He believed this was something called "self-esteem" — something most employees of Aperture lacked back before they all, y'know, died.

Horrible. Miserable. Painful deaths. Neurotoxins are not a pleasant way to go out, probably why She enjoyed them so much. He saw somewhere, on a website called Goggle (?) that certain poisonous gases constrict the airways &. cause palpitations, it feels like the skin is shrinking over the skeleton. Eyes feel like they melt from the sockets--

Yeah. Wheatley isn't sure how much of that is true considering the test subjects would be in too much pain to describe what's happening when they inhale the gases. Also, they're lethal.

❝ &. you know, I'm something of a comedian myself. I could share some tips &. tricks. We could collab. Maybe. It's up to you, after all, BUT CONSIDER IT ! If you don't crush me into a teeny tiny cube that is. If I live through this we could do stand-up together. Just keep that in mind before you try anything. Trust. You'll want to think this through. ❞

#/cannot believe wheatley offered to do a collab with glados #/aperture is healing #quillheel #( mr blue sky; please tell us why ) -- wheatley ic #main / quillheel #main / glados #( 🥚 ) -- glados #( .. ) -- thread #( v.i ) -- wheatley #/ANYWAY i love my little moron so much #/this ball. dopamine #ask to tag // #gore // #/not really but better safe than sorry

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Because of the timings of my relationships, I don't think I ever had a girlfriend on Valentine's Day. So safe to say Kimmer's been and is my only Valentine.

I no longer remember what my pre-Kimmer self thought about that state of affairs but, in retrospect, I think it's sweet how that part of my life turned out. It wasn't intentional... but it was sweet anyway.

When we started on the path we're still traveling, we were young and what was ahead of us was almost completely Unknown. We chose to contend with that Unknown together anyway. 

It's pretty breathtaking, the Unknown, by the way. It's careers and family, condos and apartments and houses, cars that work and cars that don’t, friendships and education, faith and truth, expectations and disappointments, challenges and victories, and then straight up black eyes and losses. 

And that's just off the top of my head.

It's probably a good thing they don't tell you specifically what's gonna happen in the future once you're married otherwise there would be actual pauses before anyone ever said "I do".

Spoiler Alert: nearly everything that challenged us as a married couple came from outside our marriage. Not from inside our bubble but outside. So our expectations aside, our marriage counseling aside, and the wisdom of our parents and our twenty-something friends aside...

A lot of what transpired in the years and decades afterward really did take us by surprise. Stuff pounced. You know?

And if there was ever proof that the specific nature of my Valentine is the most profound, the most important, the most essential fact of my life...

That's it right there.

Yesterday, I had a little fun with the movie line "love is an ability". Because the truth of the matter is that you and your valentine will have to tackle, figure out, solve, and otherwise deal with all manner of sudden turbulence that rushes at you just as soon as the two of you become one. And it’s not usually good. Nor is it usually easy. And yes.

Sometimes it’s traumatizing.

And are you, is she, the kind of person who can nourish, grow, and sustain a relationship, nourish, grow, and sustain the love that brought you together even so? Or does your relationship devolve into an endless daily ritual of Whack-A-Mole.

I don't believe anyone in just any combination can do a lifetime together, you see. And neither do you. Not really. There's evidence aplenty to show us not everyone can do this.

So yes. Our wedding anniversaries, our dating anniversaries, even our yearly celebrations of Valentine's Day are very much occasions of happiness and thankfulness mixed with a touch of what it must feel like in that moment people realize they just won the lotto.

We are lucky. That much is obvious and has been obvious for a very long time.

We are happy. Not every moment of every day. Not inappropriately given various circumstances. But our lives bend toward happiness and laughter. Deep friendship and a spirit of exploration.

The traumas in our life don't stop those things. In fact, those things are what help us weather those traumas. They allow us meet severe challenges. They feed a thread running through our lives, running through our marriage, that is, on balance, variations on patience and kindness and hope and trust and perseverance.

They allow for the life we lead and have every intention to keep leading.

So Valentine’s Day.

It’s this thing that starts with paper hearts and candies... turns into a yearly exercise in do I have one or don’t I have one... and then transforms into this amazing experience of we’ve come a long way, baby.

Just you ‘n me.

😊 😊 💘 💘 💘

#valentine #valentine's day #love #friendship #life #lifetime #happiness #laughter #seriousness #challenge #thankfulness #adventure #trauma #patience #kindness #hope #trust the science #perseverance

[ufasher]

PART 2: if the world would only knew what you've been holding back

“i think it’ll be hard to… be so close to home and not really be able to see my mom and baby brother. but i’ll go,” he tries to imagine what it would be like going home to eryvine. it’s more dangerous for sure. his grandfather wants him dead, that’s for certain, and walking right into his trap... well, asher really should be more concerned about his own wellbeing. but somehow he trusts he’ll be alright by finn’s side. is that crazy? maybe.

“okay,” finn says, some of his tension bleeding away. asher begins to realize that maybe finn doesn’t want to be alone just as much as asher “i'm not sure that i want to go back yet, but...the monsters from the lotus festival are attacking all across the continent. i don't think my soul will know peace if i fight for podakko knowing i owe my life to people across the continent. i don't want to go back. i don't want to face...everything i failed to do. but i don't want more people to die if i can protect them well this time. i don't know if i can, but...i feel like i have to try. it was once my duty and i don't know if anyone else will fight for them.”

he has a knack for giving speeches. asher can’t help but notice... maybe it’s because finn is usually so quiet, so reserved. he keeps his thoughts to himself, except for the mean ones. but the man who speaks now is the one that asher can easily pledge himself to, one with such a profound sense of duty to his people, a desire to do good, it eats him alive if he does not. it’s something to be admired, to aspire to, and, for the enemy, to fear. 

a little thought forms in asher’s mind. he doesn’t put a name to it yet, he doesn’t delve too deep. but it’s a thought, and a very interesting one at that.

“can i be honest?”asher asks even though he would have continued even if finn said no, “i think going back is what you need to do. you need a purpose. and you still love those people… and i think more people will be happy to see you fighting for them again than you think. when i ran away, i talked to a lot of different people for the first time. i think you have the power to give people hope for something… better.”

he sees the skepticism on the other’s face before he even speaks. “i don't know how i could give them hope, especially after everything i've done, but...part of me does feel like i owe it to them to fight for them this time, since i abandoned them as soon as the war ended. i guess in some ways i want to redeem myself even though i'm not sure i can.”

asher’s spoken to many people while running from eryvine, from etlia, across gleerium. from friends of his homeland to enemies who would rather see the whole lands burned and properly subjugated than whatever small mercies they’ve been granted. he’s heard stories of the disappeared son of the late margrave. the grand duke is sitting in prison somewhere, so many of the nobles stripped of their lands and titles. but the lucinier son... he’s the thing of legends. so many claim to know what he’s up to these days, from plotting rebellion, to rotting in the earth. but it’s neither, he’s sitting here in front of asher, lamenting the past, what used to be, and what is no longer. but if he was plotting rebellion... asher keeps thinking. he wonders what’s possible.

“people don’t know that you think you’ve abandoned them. you’re still a hero in so many stories. the more you tell yourself you’re a disappointment and make choices to do disappointing things, the more you’re going to believe it. but you can… you can decide to make choices that their hero in the stories would make. going home to protect them… that’s a good first step.”

he watches finn’s reaction carefully. he wonders if there’s any spark left there, any desire at all to fight again. he doesn’t see it, at least not yet. he just sees confusion, maybe a little fear. finn is looking past asher, out into the water. asher wonders if finn finds the same comfort in the etlian coast as he does. “it's still a lot of pressure.”

“yeah, it is,” finn’s not ready for it, asher decides. but that doesn’t mean he’ll never be. if he could become a face, a symbol... if he could bring hope to the survivors of the war... maybe they’d have another shot. etlia will never die as long as her people still believe in their own sovereignty. “you know, our stories become so much bigger than the ones we think we live.”

finn looks sad. he’s quiet again, too. asher wonders if he’s pushed too hard, if he’s misjudged the man that finn is, or could be. “i used to want that, i think. when i was younger, i thought i would be some valiant hero, beloved by my people...that i could somehow win the war for etlia and drive gleerium out for good. i was stupid, but i guess most kids are. i don't think i want that anymore. i just...want to live. i don't want to be who i am. i want to be someone else. but i guess....i can only run from who i am for so long, and i've just...lied to myself this entire past year. but i still don't know how to face it.”

“you can be whoever you want, finn,” he eases up the pressure, just smiling at him now. it’s easy to; even though asher is dreaming up a rebellion in his mind, he finds himself wanting to root for finnian anyway. he wants to see him in his prime, a confident young knight, a conqueror riding a white horse into battle to save his homeland. perhaps asher’s read too many stories, too many heroes’ journeys where the defeated protagonist picks themselves up by their bootstraps and ultimately triumphs over evil. maybe he’s hoping his stories come to life, but is it so wrong to?  “that’s the best thing about this story… it’s not over yet.”

but finn doesn’t smile. he frowns all the more, seemingly entirely uninspired by asher’s encouraging words. “i don't know. i will always be a lucinier. maybe eventually, people will forget my face. maybe by the time i die i'll have a different name and no one will remember kim finnian von lucinier, or his blunders in the war...yet i can't imagine being happy like that, either. but i won't be happy going back to etlia surrounded by...all of the suffering i feel like i could've prevented, either. i just....don't know if i'll ever be able to be happy. and honestly, i don't think i deserve to be. i guess that's why i drink, and i fight. it helps me to forget for a while, and i can pretend that one day i'll...finally be able to fucking breathe again. i know you'll probably tell me one day i'll be able to, and i don't know. maybe that's right, but i think...i'll never be able to forget everything that happened. i don't know how i'll ever make peace with it, and if i'll ever feel like i'm not...suffocating under the weight of it. i ran because i couldn't live with it all. it was...self preservation. i wasn't thinking about anyone or anything else. it was just unbearable. so i left. but even now i still can't live with it. not really.”

asher understands when it’s his purpose to listen, not to push further. so he does, taking in finn’s words one at a time. he finds his heart breaking for him, his sympathy for his loss and his situation becoming so overwhelming he’d almost like to cry. but he knows finn well enough by now that he knows he wouldn’t want that. so asher plays the role of the companion, of the listening ear. as much as he likes to talk, as much as he’d like to motivate finn, listening is just as good. he wants to understand. he wants finn to be happy too. he pauses for a second, wondering how to respond to all of the feelings that finn has just confided in him. he wants to be sure that he’s comfortable doing so again, if he wishes to.

“it’s not going to just feel better one day,” asher’s frown comes from a place of empathy, of his own demons he runs from. he’s still afraid of too much quiet, of closed doors and raised voices. but he doesn’t understand finn’s exact plights, not directly. “i used to read a lot. it was my only way to understand the world outside of the manor. you’re not the first man to lose a war and you won’t be the last. what happened happened. you shouldn’t forget it. but you can breathe whenever you’re ready to.”

finn goes quiet again. longer than the previous quiets, broken only when he finally says “i’m tired.” 

“that’s alright,” asher assures him, and after a moment of looking around the ground in their immediate vicinity, he hands him a smooth, flat stone. perfect for skipping. he’s pushed enough, he’s just happy that finn’s opened up to him. he watches as finn throws the stone into the water. it skips three times, not bad. 

“if we go back, i don't know how i'm going to stand seeing those pricks from gleerium in the estate that they stole from my family. or hearing the people calling it fucking. soule or remilly or whatever, instead of lucinier. it makes me sick.”

“remilly is a dumb name,“ asher agrees, smiling a bit despite the circumstances. he can’t help but think that he’s lucky to have met a man like finn, a man who still wants to help others despite the low place he’s gone to. there’s not too many heroes in this world, but asher thinks he may have met once of them. it’s why he makes another promise: “i have your back, finn.”

finn faces him, looks at him for the first time practically since this conversation began. asher fights the urge to smile, something about finn’s undivided attention giving him such a desire. he fails, but it seems to be alright, because finn finally replies: “okay. thanks.”

asher gets to his feet, handing him another skipping stone that he found. “this helps, doesn’t it?” maybe he just wants validation for his own coping mechanism. maybe he wants to hear that he’s actually helping finn with this too. 

“yeah, kinda,” finn throws the stone again, “haven't actually skipped stones in a while but i guess the skill is still there.” a laugh bubbles up from his lips. asher can’t help but feel a little giddy. for what reason he’s not quite sure. 

“maybe try this instead of fighting every gleerian in etlia,” asher can joke now, grinning in finn’s direction.

#.solo #finnuf #.solo: follow you

[marylandlifecoaching]

Action Only

Actions only. That's it. And that's all.

When it comes to our interpersonal relationships, there will always {at times} be disagreements or conflicts. That's to be expected, and it is actually healthy. We all need a little push back from time to time. Because that is what helps us grow. With that said, it's how we work through complicated times, that define us and, gives us insight on whether or not we should stay connected. So I come back to actions. Your words either back it up, or you can back the fuck out...

My profession as a counselor, coach and consultant has put me in touch with thousands of people. Spanning almost 40 years, it's your actions that determine your relationship situation. Always at war with the people in your life? You at some point need to ask yourself, "Why is this happening?" You should be taking a look at your actions, and not words. Yes, while words hurt, it is our behaviors that tell the real story.

You know the saying, "When someone shows you who they really are, believe them"? Well, believe them. It's like when someone recently finds God or gets clean, they have a new perspective on life. And they usually have a lot to say. But here's the the thing. I will always be supportive and I am genuinely happy for you. But I am also cautious in my dealings with you. Just in my practice alone, I have literally seen hundreds of couples in distress. At one point or another, I usually hear, "But I have changed, or It will never happen again." And while I believe that they believe that, in many cases, we often see that it is complete bullshit. I see this in domestic violence situations, as well in serial cheaters...among a few examples. Actions baby. It is always about actions.

A guy approached me a few months back and he recently found God. I was truly delighted to see that he was doing something positive. But I watch. My lifelong profession dictates that I read people. {Notice I said read, not judge.} Do I get it wrong at times? Yes, of course. But something about this gentleman didn't feel right. His words were profound and on point. But it felt off. So I stayed connected, but not close. Fast forward to 3 months down the road, the behavior changed, and the words soon followed. While I am not going to get into specifics, it was bad. Real bad.

So my message is today, watch what they do, and don't focus on what they say. There are 5000 examples I could give, but I'll use this one. Not all who call you friend, are your friend. A lot of people may say they will be there for you, but in reality, they will not. And that's okay. But when it comes to our close personal relationships, if their actions don't match their words, run! If it hurts emotionally, time to start asking questions. If it hurts physically, I promise you that's not love.

In the case of the guy that found God and then things went south, I still care for him. Just as I care for all the addicts who in their early recovery said that this was their last time. I cheer for them. That's what I do. But just because I want what's best for you, doesn't mean you're going to have access to me. Just because you found God and sling a little scripture, honestly doesn't hold any weight with me. In fact if you have found God, and I can't tell you have by your actions, your words certainly won't hold any merit with me.

Actions only. That's it. And that's all.

[bipercabeth]

28, gimmie your hand

sequel to this photographer percy au 

When Percy took pictures of Annabeth before they started dating, she could never tell if he was looking at her through the lens of artist or lover. Now, she’s beginning to think it’s the same thing. There’s a delicacy to his gaze, as though his smile is meant both for Annabeth and the light shining on her. His taking a picture so often looks like gratitude, like the fear of forgetting his luck in a moment so blissful. And he immortalizes her on film, takes his care to capture and develop her image. It is no small thing, being a muse. 

She envies it, sometimes. Percy gets to show Annabeth and the world exactly how he sees her, while she is left with her words, which can only ever fall short. He captures time and frames her suspended in the golden glow of sunlight, he makes her laugh moments before the flash, and he does not believe in bad photos. He photographs her bedhead, her soft stomach, her bent posture, and her chewed fingernails. He photographs her genuine laugh, her pouted lips, her pensive expression, her golden curls. Annabeth has never liked the sharp upturn of her nose, but Percy photographs her profile with such care that she can’t help but soften to it.

They’re at the beach for what feels like the last warm day of September. The Atlantic ocean is too vast to be swayed by the local weather, so they stay on the sand until they need to cool off. Percy’s camera is buried in their beach bag as they soak up the day—not every moment needs to be captured. Sometimes happiness demands to be fleeting. Nostalgia wouldn’t be as powerful if Annabeth could remember exactly how many freckles the sun kissed into Percy’s cheeks today. The longing comes from the fear of forgetting.

Sunset brings a gentle chill and sends Annabeth into Percy’s side. He pulls her bare legs into his lap and rubs his hands up and down them. It only works for a few seconds, but she’ll take any excuse to keep his hands on her. (She thinks he will too.)

One of the best parts about being in a relationship, she thinks, is not needing an excuse. There is an agreement between them that says you can touch me. I am trusting you to handle me at my best and my worst. I think that’s love. Please touch me.

Annabeth shifts her weight and straddles her boyfriend in a way that’s a bit indecent for a public beach, but the closest people are specs on the horizon and Percy is leaning back on his palms, his face to the orange sky and throat exposed. His skin looks golden, dripping in sunlight like honey, and Annabeth watches his Adam’s apple bob as she tastes. Even his smile is sweet. Annabeth is not an artist, but sometimes loving him makes her rethink that.

“Baby,” he whispers, and Annabeth opens her eyes to him chewing his lip. “You know the last thing I ever want to do is stop making out with my beautiful girlfriend on the beach, but...” He juts his chin to the sun, then to her general face. “I‘ll kick myself if I don’t get this.”

Annabeth pretends to roll her eyes as he lays back on the beach blanket with his camera in hand, but the way he looks at her is too profound for her to do much else. She’s always loved the way he looks at the world, though it wasn’t until recently that she discovered she likes the way he looks at her more. All that wonder, all that love, plus a surety that is so rare on him. There is the boyish boldness that makes her want to strangle and kiss him, plus the sly cockiness that has her leaning toward the former, but that gleam in his eyes cannot compare to this glimmer. His fingers slide along her chin, angling her kindly from  the harsh angle he captures her at.

She chuckles, gestures to his hand. “We wouldn’t get anywhere without this. Piper says I can’t pose for any camera you’re not behind.”

Percy pokes her in the side quickly, snapping a photo when she laughs. “That’s because Piper is a terrible photographer.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”

“I’m just saying, it’s more than landscapes and lighting. If you’re taking pictures of people, you should try to capture something real. Something human.”

“Her Instagram feed is very focused on humanity.”

She said it to rile him up—passionate Percy is one of her favorite versions of the boy she loves. She’s snuck more than a few photos of her own during a long-winded rant about camera lenses and color editing.

But this passion is quieter than what Annabeth is used to. Honest. Soft. Percy rests the camera on his chest and trails his fingers from Annabeth’s wrist to her elbow, his eyes following the slow migration.

“I don’t always know why you’re looking at me the way you do. I think that’s why I picked up a camera in the first place—my mom looked at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to her, and I was scared that one day she’d come to her senses. I wanted to remember that face before it disappeared.” He doesn’t look at her. Can’t, maybe. “It’s been over a decade, and that look is still there. I guess now I take pictures to try and understand it. Because I don’t— I want—“

Annabeth takes hold of his wrist. It’s then that he looks at her, propped up on an elbow. He breathes.

“You look at me like I’m a good thing.” And he’s opening his mouth like there are more words he wants to say, but they won’t come.

Annabeth kisses him, sweet and soft and a bit desperate. The lens of the camera presses into her chest, and she slides it out of Percy’s grip as she presses a kiss to his nose, his forehead. 

“Lay down for me,” she says. And, at his hesitation. “C’mon, Jackson. It’s hardly the first time I’ve had you on your back.” 

That earns a laugh, which earns the first picture. The camera may be out of Annabeth’s league, but she’s seen Percy use this thing enough to know that the big black button is all she really needs for what she’s trying to do. 

She says, “I love you,” says, “You’re everything to me,” and, “You are so beautiful,” for the sake of his smile. She says, “Gimme your hand,” and kisses his knuckles. She sits a little lower in his lap and photographs the way his eyes darken, and his hands, still itching for the camera, busy themselves with her thighs. The sun is disappearing quickly, but Percy is glowing with the last of the New York summer. His skin is still damp from the kiss of the Atlantic, and Annabeth thinks that he was born to look like this. Love and light, gentle and summer-warm by the seaside. Percy Jackson summed up in a time, a place, a feeling. 

And Annabeth isn’t great with words, but he needs to hear them. 

“The sun is gonna set,” she leans in, throwing her shadow over his face, and sets the camera down, “and it’s gonna rise, again and again and again, and I am never gonna stop looking at you like this. Even if you never take my picture again.” She plants her hand over his shoulder to lean down. “You’re gonna spend your entire life by my side waiting for it to go away, and one day you’re going to forget to worry. Just like you help me forget to worry.” 

And then he smiles a bit sideways, a dimple pressing into his cheek. “You proposing to me, Chase?” 

She rolls her eyes, but smiles back. “As if you won’t know when I propose.” 

Percy’s hands skim up her back, where the last of the light stretches over the horizon of her skin. “Not if I beat you to it.” 

He pulls her down for a long kiss. When Annabeth comes up, it’s nearly dark out. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to photograph your own wedding.” 

“Yeah, well.” And he’s arching up for one last kiss before they have to leave, a comma on the page of this long day turned night. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” 

#annabethsinvibilitycap #pjo fics #my fic #my percabeth #drabbles #percabeth #pjo

[littlefireofhestia]

hi! i'm sage and i was going through the "hestia devotee" tag and found a post of yours that said you were open for questions about her. i don't know how old that post is or if you're still taking questions, you can ignore this if you're not, but since i'm here i wanted to talk/ask about something.

i'm a baby witch (like the babiest of babies, almost a new born) and most of my experience is through reading and watching since i don't currently have time or resources to do any practice other than lighting incenses or candles or working with crystals. and i definitely don't know any form of divination, like tarot or pendulum, that would allow me to do actual deity work and properly communicate with them.

the thing is, i've researched deities from multiple pantheons multiple times, mostly out of curiosity, but the moment i came across a prayer to hestia my heart skipped a beat and i immediately felt a kind of comfort. it could have been nothing, but i still researched all i could about her and just. i've never felt this drawn to a deity before, much less felt a pull to actually worship one. but i feel very much that way about her.

i looked up ways to honour her and i'm genuinely shocked at how happy it's been making me. i'm finding joy in domestic activities i used to loathe, like washing the dishes or helping with house cleaning. i tried baking a cake all by myself for the first time and lit an orange candle for her while doing it. it turned out absolutely delicious, i discovered i actually really enjoy baking and even started my own cook notebook with some of my grandma's old recipes. i make a point to always tie my hair back when i'm doing something that makes me think of her or in her honour, like making tea or baking or making dinner for my family or cleaning, because i saw people talking about how she appreciates veiling but i don't know how to do it so i just tie my hair in a bun instead of putting on a scarf. and i used to hate tying my hair, but now i feel very good about it!

i've always struggled with feeling connected to religion and never really understood how that could bring peace to someone, but i haven't felt this grounded or loving towards my family and pets or in peace with myself as much as i have since i started doing things as acts of devotion to hestia.

now, on to the actual problem: i'm scared it's all in my head. i'm worried i'm not enough of a witch to worship a deity yet, since i'm still trying to learn ways of communication and can't directly ask her if she's with me. i'm scared that the little things i'm doing aren't enough and the comfort and faith i feel while doing them are my imagination and not actually her watching over me and appreciating my effort.

anyways, i'm really sorry for dumping these worries on you but i didn't see many hestia related blogs and i really needed to ask someone about this. is what i'm doing enough of a worship right now? do you have any tips on how to worship her better? thank you!

Hi Sage! I don’t know when you sent this ask so I’m sorry if it’s been a while since you sent it and my response is late. When I read this ask for the first time I nearly cried tears of joy. Before anything I do want to say that you’re doing amazing sweetie!

I’m always open to questions about Hestia.

First off, there is no prerequisite to worshipping deities. I am admittedly not a witch and worship the gods exclusively for religious reasons and not for witchcraft. I have not learned many divination methods yet (although I have used the very handy Greek Alphabet Oracle a few times) and my rituals are still relatively basic, mostly not even occurring on an altar. But I have felt Hestia. I have been in her presence. I have received dreams from other deities and signs. None of this is required to happen to believe in or worship the theoi, but I just want to assure you that beyond doing some research to figure out who you want to pray to and how to do prayer and ritual, there are no prerequisites to worship. My first prayer to Hestia was literally me throwing a scarf over my head and talking to her in the dark with a flashlight to represent a flame. No formal structure. Didn’t even know how to correctly hold my hands yet. And still she accepted me.

The vibe you get from Hestia is very much similar to my experience. I’ve been drawn to her for YEARS but didn’t know I could worship her. But she’s always felt like home and comfort and just right for me. I never ever had a reason why she was my favorite deity before becoming pagan. She just was. My connection to Hestia has been a fact for over a decade that I just didn’t know was religious until a year and a half ago. Me wondering if I could worship her is the reason why I started researching Hellenic Polytheism in the first place. She brought me to this faith and I am so thankful to her for that.

You finding joy in domestic activities you used to hate is something I’ve discovered through Hestia too, although it’s still a journey I’m early on due to depression and physical disability and having a lot of work to do on figuring out how to make things accessible for me. I’m excited to go further for and with Hestia.

I understand the thought about it being all in your head. I had those thoughts early in my practice too. Basically, belief is a process. It takes time to switch from whatever religious thought (or lack thereof) that you grew up with to polytheism and worshipping a variety of deities or even just one deity, and from there to truly believing in them. I’ve been practicing for a year and a half and it probably took me at least nine months to truly feel secure in my faith in the theoi. Research, pray, do ritual, devote acts to the gods, think about the gods, notice the influence of the theoi in your daily life, and gradually that belief will solidify. You may or may not receive signs, which may or may not speed this process up. I promise, if you want to believe in the gods, in Hestia, it just takes time.

Also on feeling that you aren’t doing enough, the video at the bottom of this post (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odhRRYqQo8Y) might help. And I promise: you are doing enough, you are enough, just as you are.

Now as for worship tips. You are honestly doing great so far. Thinking of her while doing household chores and tasks or dedicating those tasks for her is a great way to worship her. I’d also recommend checking out her Homeric and Orphic hymns, one translation of which can be found here, and a copy of the Homeric hymns can likely be found at a local bookstore or definitely through online ordering. The Homeric hymns can also start to teach you some stuff about prayer structure, but prayer doesn’t have to be formal. Sometimes I just sit and talk to Hestia, or to any of my other deities. Tell them about my day, thank them for things in my life or the world, and sometimes asking them for things (although I find that I ask for aid much more rarely than when I prayed as the Catholic I was raised to be). I also have perpetually in progress playlists I have made for my deities, and if I want to spend some non-ritual time just focusing on a deity I’ll put on their playlist and read something religious or talk in religious discords. I actually had my most profound spiritual experience with Hestia while doing this.

Last but not least, worshipping Hestia, or any other deity, is something you have your whole life ahead of you to do. Take it at your own pace. Faith is all about the journey. The destination is irrelevant. There is no deadline or leveling up system, no authority checking your progress. As I have experienced time and time again, the gods will very much meet you where you are. A few months ago I was in a deep depression and did not do any ritual for several months. When I finally did a ritual again, I felt Hestia’s warm hand on my shoulder, as if to say “I miss you, welcome home”. I promise, Hestia will always welcome you home.

P.S. I know this ask is anonymous but Sage, feel free to message me with any additional questions about Hestia or worshipping deities in general. I’m here if you need any more help.

#hestia devotee #hestia worship #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan

[blorbosondeck]

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts​

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!! 

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas​

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas​ 

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3 

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up. 

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones 

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

#lmao please interact with this i spent so much time on it #i had to go onto desktop for this #ill keep adding on to it #my fic recs #fic rec #spn fic rec #deancas fic recs #charlie.txt

[starshard17]

Newly Formed | Sanders Sides Fanfic

Credit goes to @haysgrove for this idea it is just so adorable I mUST WRITE IT.

Virgil just formed as a new side. He materializes in front of everyone. He is a little toddler. He is intimidating.

He is baby.

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

"What is it?" Roman asked cautiously, creeping behind Patton and poking his head over his shoulder.

"A newly formed side. I figured that was obvious." Logan answered, gesturing his hand at the small toddler in front of them.

"Well I know that, but why is it here?" The princely side asked, gripping onto Patton's shoulder and ducking further behind the father figure.

Janus stepped forward, lifting the small toddler up into his arms and examining it.

"Brand spanking new. We're keeping him." Janus announced, holding the small child against his chest.

"Hey unfair!" Roman called pointing over Patton's shoulder and at the toddler in Deceit's arms. Janus raised an eyebrow.

"You seem terrified of him already and he's only been here for a few minutes." Janus glanced to Remus who was behind him before returning his gaze to Patton.

"I firmly believe it'd be best if the two of us took him in." He announced, holding out the child and gently prodding him in Roman's direction, causing the side to jump back and hide his face in the cardigan around Patton's neck.

Logan sighed but nodded reluctantly.

"I suppose you're right. Just. Don't ruin the poor child's innocence. We don't need to figure out what he represents right now, we just need him to know he's welcome here and we'll take care of him." Logan explained, looking at the child.

The little side giggled and flapped his arms, causing him to slip a bit in Janus' hold, alerting the deceitful side to quickly pull the little boy back against his chest. Remus tapped Janus' shoulder, causing him to turn, cradling the new side in his arms.

"We should take the child back to our side. I think he's already overstayed his visit." The Duke said with a smirk, looking in Roman's direction. The princely side was still cowering in fear, face hidden in Patton's neck.

"I suppose you're right. Ta ta friends. It was absolutely dreadful getting to catch up with you again."

And with that, Janus and Remus entered into the dark side of the mind with their newfound family member.

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

Little Anxiety held a sippy cup in his hands, taking small drinks as he stumbled around the living room.

Roman watched cautiously from his seat on the couch, his feet pulled up onto the cushions.

"What're you planning little man." Roman hissed under his breath, watching the toddler with distrust. Anxiety just wobbled around on his feet, inevitably dropping his cup and the lid popped off, spilling the contents inside onto the floor. He plopped down and picked up the cup and the lid again, trying to press them back together.

Soon enough, Little Anxiety gave up on the cup and dropped it, turning to stare at Roman, his violet eyes watching Roman's emerald green ones.

The Prince sucked in a breath, hoping that soon enough, the devil child would break his gaze but he held strong.

"Evil." Roman murmured, crossing his arms as if that would protect him from the supposed demon child.

Suddenly Roman felt a hard slap on his back and the wind was knocked out of him as his body jerked forward, his feet colliding with the floor before he could faceplant into the carpet. He whipped his head around to see Remus standing behind him, giving him a lopsided smirk.

"What do you want Dukey?" Roman groaned, pulling his feet back up onto the couch as Anxiety waddled towards him.

"Nothin." Remus spoke, jumping over the back of the couch and plopping down beside Roman. "I just find it insanely funny that you think a toddler that somehow managed to spill a cup with a lid on it, is evil and is definitely plotting something. Lighten up, I'm sure he plans to make you his right hand man." Remus joked, punching Roman's arm playfully. The Prince rubbed his arm, scoffing.

"Right. Then he'll betray me and leave me to die because I was just a step ladder for him. He'd kill me off the moment he got the chance." Roman grumbled as he watched the little toddler place his hands on the couch cushions in an attempt to pull himself up.

Remus burst into a fit of manic laughter.

"KILL YOU? HE'S A TODDLER THAT CAN BARELY EVEN STAND UP STRAIGHT AND YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT WHAT HE'S CAPABLE OF? LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT HIS FACE!" Remus hooted, falling onto his back, hitting the cushions as he roared with laughter.

Roman focused on Little Anxiety, sucking in another breath as they locked eyes again. Those eyes were definitely the ones of a little child who could plan out a whole murder and get away with it. Roman was sure of it.

"He's planning something I'm telling you! I mean you and Deceit did take him in the first chance you got, what if he already taught him how to plan out some sort of evil scheme of some sort! Like that'd be smart! Cause no one suspects the baby! But I'm onto you little man, nothing's slipping past m- AAAAH GET AWAY!!!" Roman screeched in horror as he realized the small toddler had made his way up onto the couch and was now sitting right beside him.

Remus couldn't help but laugh, coughing as his voice got caught up in his throat.

"Oh my god. You're terrified of an actual toddler." Remus chirped, wiping a tear from his eye. "That's hilarious."

Roman's face scrunched up and he crossed his arms.

"You're adorably pathetic, dear brother. Don't let the evil toddler kill you while I'm gone." Remus laughed as he rolled off the couch and rose to his feet, sashaying out of the room before sinking down into his own.

"Adorable? Pathetic? Hilarious? Oh he thinks this is funny? That's it." Roman sat up as straight as he could, looking at Little Anxiety.

"Okay I know for a fact you're evil but we can put that aside. For my own sake, we should be friends, but no funny business." Roman told him, voice stern and direct. The toddler blinked at the Prince.

"I'll prove to Dukey that we can be comfortable in the same room together. Even if I don't trust you. We can work something out." Roman stated, their eyes once more locking onto one another.

As the intense purple color in Little Anxiety's eyes pierced through Roman's soul, the Prince focused on his thoughts.

He would prove to Remus that he was not pathetic. That he could be strong around this profound new being.

Because if Prince Roman is anything, he is NOT a pathetic little prince. He was a strong, smart, brave, handsome young lad. And he wouldn't let this little thing mess up his reputation for him. Even if he was a bit terrifying.

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

While still a bit cautious around the child, Roman eventually warmed up to him. The two were able to sit together in the same room and they often held eye contact with one another. It was like their own special thing.

Roman still didn't quite trust the toddler, but he definitely trusted him more than he used to. He'd show Remus.

The two, Roman and Little Anxiety, they were by no means friends. But just to prove to Remus that he was not "adorably pathetic" he attempted to become more comfortable around him.

And it worked.

The two locked eyes with one another as Remus stared at them in bewilderment.

"I refuse to believe you went from not trusting him at all to becoming his friend! How does that even work? He's a toddler!" Remus pouted, stomping his feet.

Roman smiled as his emerald eyes held their gaze on Little Anxiety's purple irises.

"We're not friends. We more so have an agreement to not plot against each other." Roman said, looking at Remus.

"An agreement for this little toddler- WHO WAS IN FACT PLANNING SOMETHING!- To not try and kill me in my sleep. Now he's gonna get you. And you thought I was crazy. You never know what to expect from a toddler who can barely hold their own cup. Better start running cause Little Anxiety's purple eyes will haunt your nightmares, just like they did mine. THEN YOU'LL SEE WHAT IT WAS LIKE THE FIRST TIME I SAW THE CHILD!" Roman cheered triumphantly. Little Anxiety clapped his hands, staring at Remus.

And Remus felt it. It truly was terrifying to hold that child's gaze.

#my writing #ts roman #ts remus #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #ts janus #haysgrove #it's kinda janky but I am so close to just passing out so please enjoy this little messy lil story

[piecksz]

forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader 

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol 

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container. 

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen. 

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her. 

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.  

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.  

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.  

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.  

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.  

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process. 

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

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