#and for constantly yelling at middle school brats

[sh1-n0bu]

i apologize for not being very active these past 2 or 3 weeks even though i promised dragons getting fucked soon dropping. tragically, i hate to coach 3-4 different classes to prepare for gymnastics competition which will end on saturday. thankfully ill be free since then

[twstbookclub]

Love in the dark

Summary: Having feelings for a delinquent is... hard. Having feelings for said delinquent and changing him for the better is worse. You thought he would've forgotten you, but even with your feelings in the dark, you had hope that he would. Pronouns: Gender Neutral POV: 2nd Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Tags: Deuce Spade, Deuce angst. very light angst, delinquent Deuce, open-ended, I could follow this up one day... could Word count: 3,458

A/N: I was g o i n g to post this one after the Parallel Lines fic, but I was way too excited to post about Epel and Azul angst(I was so proud of them), that I put this on the back burner. I know we had a 2 week post period and now I've left it for a month yes I KNOW, but I was trying to let this one take a while to post, because honestly... we have no content right now.

On a technical scale, we do, at least I do, I have like 2 of them in the basement ready to be edited and like 4 as WIPs, and I'm honestly writing other fics that aren't twst related(heh follow my personal Tumblr), but there's still things to do plus life stuff SO ty all for being patient !

Your home wasn't exactly in the best neighborhood. You had a parent who was barely around due to work, which meant you were home alone most of the time. You had some good entertainment, though. These poorly built apartments had thin walls, and you lived beside the one family that was a complete 180 from yours. 

The Spade family.

You didn't know them enough, but only a mother and son existed. It was the home of a short-tempered woman and a teen delinquent, but you knew the teen.

Deuce Spade, notorious for constantly yelling and leaving the house in the middle of the night after an argument, was the main piece for your noisy neighborhood. His mother had blue hair with blonde highlights, yet Deuce only had blond hair. He used to have naturally blue hair, though.

I mean, he is a delinquent.

His mother was sweet and patient despite her son's behavior. She made sure you would eat, have clean clothes, and a clean uniform. She was practically like your mother. She would sometimes invite you to stay over for dinner, and why not accept such a kind offer?

Plus, you liked seeing Deuce. The first time you saw him was the first day of middle school, and you caught him as you were leaving your home, his teal eyes stopping on yours for a few seconds. After the first day, you went home to see his mother waiting for you right by your front door.

That was when she found out that you often stayed alone at home, and she offered you a snack of peeled apples. Since then, she would sometimes knock on your door to ask to come over for dinner or help her run an errand, which resulted in you staying over.

This was one of those times. She invited you to have dinner with her since her son had left the house again, but you were studying at the table since your home was too quiet to concentrate.

“Uhm, Miss Spade—”

The door suddenly opened, revealing a beat-up Deuce with a scowl and torn-up clothes. His eyes instantly landed on you, and his scowl grew worse.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house—”

Smack!

Deuce's mom suddenly hit the back of his head with a rolled-up newspaper, with a scowl on her own face. “Don't curse in my house, you rude brat. They are my guest, and you will respect them.”

Deuce held the back of his head with a wince and growled, looking towards his mother. “Lady—!”

Smack!

“Quit that. I am your mother and not the one you're mad at. Leave the anger outside and get showered for dinner,” she said, dropping the newspaper on the counter to finish with dinner.

“Sweetie, could you help him out with those wounds?”

You perked up at Miss Spade calling you, and then you nodded and closed your books before standing up.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she says happily, smiling at you. “Just call me Dylla. No need for formalities.”

“Oh–Dylla…” You said carefully with a nod, then smiled back and went with Deuce for him to get ready for dinner. This wasn't the first time you've witnessed this; you already knew the familiar routine after doing this a few times.

You grabbed the first-aid kit and followed Deuce to his bedroom, being stopped at the door. “You thinkin’ to replace me as my mom's kid or somethin’? You got your own lonely house next door.”

You stared at Deuce for a moment and sighed before you smiled at him. “Not at all. Being around a good person feels nice, but you take that for granted,” you spoke confidently, giving him a pat on the cheek and handing the first-aid kit to him.

“If you want to be rude, tend to your own wounds,” you said and walked off, returning to the table to study and do homework despite hearing Deuce groan and slam his door shut.

When Deuce came back, he heard how much his mother was laughing with you and serving you a bowl of food with rice. Dylla hadn’t laughed that hard in ages, and you were all smiles, too. Deuce knew all too well how his mom had taken a liking to the neighbor’s child due to how much time they spent alone, but this was excessive.

You turned and saw Deuce standing there, and then Dylla served the rest of the bowls so everyone could eat. “I don’t understand why you want them here so much. Can’t they ask their own parents to cook for ‘em?” Deuce mumbled, sitting in his spot at the table.

“Because this is my house, kid. You are my child, and they are a child that needs care. Now, stop hiding that kind heart and eat,” she said, followed by Deuce groaning and starting to eat his dinner.

It was quiet, most likely because of your presence and Deuce's tension with his mother.  After everyone finished eating, you helped with storing food away while he washed the dishes. Dylla was gone to buy fruit and snacks, leaving you and her son in awkward positions.

“Hey?” Deuce called, his voice a bit guilty and quiet. The sudden voice spooked you, making you instantly freeze and look at him.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

Deuce turned off the sink and looked at you, looking regretful. “So, I had a pretty big fight with my mom and, you know, left the house. A few days ago, though, I heard her talkin’ to my grandma about how she thinks I turned out like this 'cause she didn’t raise me right or somethin’. So, I kinda wanna ask you for a favor.”

You looked at Deuce with a tilted head, shocked about how he was different after just a little while of being able to think. “Uhh, what’s the favor?”

“Help me get my grades up. I—” Deuce stopped, looking away from you and taking a breath. “I do love my mom, and I can’t stand seeing her cry like that over me. It ain’t her fault I became such a douche, either! I just—I don’t know.”

His statements and requests made you stop to think about what the hell he was saying to you right now. 

“I’ll do it,” you responded, giving him an honest smile. His eyes lit up and he grabbed you by the shoulders, getting excited at your response. “But you have to be committed to this.”

“Seriously!? Yes!” Deuce exclaimed, pulling you close for a random hug and you tried to push him back out of instinct.

You sigh and let him hug you from the side after a bit of fighting, giving in to his efforts. “We start tomorrow, but first, please get rid of that splotchy blond you got.”

Deuce let go with a raised eyebrow. “Tch. It’s a good blond.”

“It makes you look washed out, and you still have some roots showing, so it just looks like a bad job,” you responded, grabbing your study books and placing them on the table.

“Wh—Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right about the bad job,” Deuce mumbled in defeat while touching the dead ends of his hair. “Is it really that bad…?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.” You say and try not to laugh with a small chuckle escaping your mouth, Deuce starts to laugh at the same time and he gently hits your shoulder.

After that, you and Deuce spent day after day studying once you got to his place. It was hard at first since Deuce barely studied and he wanted to distract himself with other things instead of completing the textbooks. 

“Deuce.”

“What!? This stuff is boring! Why can’t they make learning fun or somethin’.”

You let out a sigh and tapped on the textbook page he was on, “Do the page or I tell your mom to cancel on getting you snacks later.”

In an instant, Deuce stopped his shenanigans like a child and got back to work. The sight was honestly funny.

The boy was stubborn, but it took time. You did like spending your days with him regardless. You got to see him in certain ways, like when he was asleep or concentrated, and you even had to start packing him lunch since he wanted to study with you at school, too. 

The classroom was quiet since you both retreated to the science lab for a quiet atmosphere, and you were picking at the rice in the lunch box that Dylla made for you while reading ahead in your notes.

You took a glance towards Deuce and saw him studying diligently. It was charming, even if it didn’t suit him well with that blond hair and the jacket he always wore with his group of friends. When Deuce looked over due to sensing eyes on him, he raised an eyebrow and set down his notebook.

“What's up with you?”

“Huh—” you let out, being caught off guard, “Oh, nothing. You just—you look like an honor student studying so well.”

Your comment made Deuce silent for a few seconds, but then let out a cheer for himself. The sound surprised you, but you remembered that he wanted to have the image of an honor student, so you made his day like that.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to achieve! Perfect! Ooh ooh! How about like this?” He suggested while leaning back and crossing a leg over the other, making himself appear focused.

His behavior only made you laugh, and he didn’t stop until the first bell rang. He tried to continue, but you had to remind him that class was soon, and a star student shouldn’t be late.

The exams went by, and the day the grades were posted was so loud in your neighborhood. 

Deuce ran over to your door and knocked until you opened up, and you were met with a picture of the exam grades on your face. He had made it in the top 60% of the year, meaning he could graduate without problems.

“Do you see this?! That’s what I could do!!” He exclaimed before picking you up for an excited hug. You didn’t have a chance to speak at all.

It made your heart warm to see him so happy.

He deserved it.

“I could only do it with your help.” He spoke more, finally calmer now that he could let it all out. He looked at you with a smile of appreciation.

You just stared at the behavior in front of you. It was so new and weird, but it felt right. He really did deserve this.

You caught yourself staring more and more in the silence, and your ears began to burn before you looked away.

Deuce was staring too, but when you looked away, he did the same with his cheeks growing flushed. Another new behavior.

“Uhm—” you started, trying to get your thoughts together fast enough. “I'm glad you did well, and that I could help with that. It seems you do… have the capability.”

There was a heavy tension. It was awkward. Deuce took a moment to look around through the silence and noticed the boxes around your living room.

You noticed and quickly made up something. “Oh—it's just my family wanting to put some stuff into storage for space.”

“Oh… I see. Well, uh, my mom also told me to let you know that we'll be going out to celebrate her next day off, and she wants to take you with us! So… there's that.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Deuce.” You thank him before he leaves and you close the door behind him, letting out a quiet sigh before shaking your head.

When Deuce heard the door close, he clutched his chest and let out a breath, then quickly went back home as if he didn't notice that moment.

Over the weeks, Deuce's hair grew out and he got frustrated with its length. He wanted a change now that middle school was coming to a close and he would be going to a different school at Sage Island. 

When he returned home after school one day, you and Dylla looked at the door but suddenly froze. The blond went back to blue.

Your heart began to race as it felt like time had stopped, but you couldn’t stop thinking about one thing—

He looked… like the day you met him.

Whoa.

Deuce saw your expression and raised an eyebrow, staring at you in confusion. “What’s got you all spaced out? Oh, I must look that good if you’re staring!”

“Not at all. You look like you want to be gloomy,” you said sarcastically and turned back around to study. Dylla watched as she saw how you grew flustered.

Deuce’s mother laughed and went to go and mess up his hair by ruffling the strands, causing Deuce to get annoyed. 

“Mom, come on! I just got this done!”

“How can I not? My handsome young man is back!” She responded sarcastically and even attacked him in her motherly hugs for extra effect.

Listening to them argue and joke around was heartwarming, but you couldn’t interrupt them. You carefully got your things and left them to spend the day as a family, retreating to your house.

Deuce started to disappear more in preparation for his transfer to his future school on a whole other land, and you could feel a distance grow.

Deuce started to look more lively and he acted differently; yet still had his pumped personality, but he didn't have the time to spare you a glance anymore.

With Dylla working more to make sure she had the tuition for Deuce, she was gone too. Your apartment was starting to look more and more vacant as all of this went on, a clear sign of what was about to happen.

This was how it was supposed to go anyway. You were never meant to get this close to him. You were the one who kept to themselves. So, this was good. Right?

On the day before the graduation, Dylla suggested you and Deuce hang out and gave spending money as a way to make one last memory.

You let out a sigh as you sat on the blanket in White Rabbit Park, looking up at the colorful evening sky with its orange, purple, and peach hues coloring the clouds.

Deuce came up with a couple cold drinks and ice creams in a bag from the vendor nearby, but there was still that awkward tension.

You and Deuce hadn't talked since exams were over and he began to fix himself onto a better crowd, but now the inevitable was tomorrow.

After tomorrow, when would you ever see him again?

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of Deuce opening a can of soda, which made you jump from surprise. Your reaction made Deuce laugh before he handed an ice cream to you.

You looked at it and your expression fell a bit. You didn't like this flavor anymore. You checked the other soda can too, but it was the same thing. Did he forget what you liked?

No.

He just hasn't been around to find out what your new palette is like.

You ate the ice cream anyway under the silence of the still sunsetting sky, not wanting his gesture to go to waste. It made you feel guilty to reject something he bought for you.

“So, tomorrow is the day.” Deuce spoke after a long silence and by this point, the moon was already out to say hello for the night. 

Neither of you looked or spoke to each other, finding it too nerve-wracking to do it.

“It is, but it was a good time.” You responded with a small smile, feeling a lump in your throat starting to form.

“It was. Thanks for helping me study and getting me to where I am right now.”

Deuce looked at you shortly after, and your head instinctively turned to return his gaze. His eyes were filled with slight regret, but also had gratitude.

“It's not a problem at all. Really.”

It was silent again with stares that could pierce the heart, but he walked you home after a short moment.

“See you.” You said, watching him get to his own door.

Deuce looked at you and let out a chuckle, “See you tomorrow.”

He was right next door, but seeing him walk off like that made it seem as if he was farther than usual.

You felt your eyes water with every step you took inside your home, being met with more emptiness.

By now, your home was as empty as could be for someone who was also moving away. You stood in the middle of the box-covered living room and let out a sigh of defeat, knowing that tomorrow was inevitable.

At the ceremony, some cried and some were happy to leave, but your eyes could never stop glancing at Deuce, who looked stoked to graduate now that he had his diploma in hand. It was nice to see him like that after the trouble he put himself through.

The day went by without a single worry and all its students were just as carefree. They were happy to now move on to the next chapter. You stood at the school gates with your diploma and a small flower bouquet that Dila got for you as congratulations for your hard work.

You watched as Deuce and his mother spent their time together, and you were waiting for your own parent, yet they never showed up to anything. As you decided to leave, Deuce called out to you and ripped the second button off his uniform, placing it in your hands.

Your eyes widened as you looked at him, “Wh—what?” was all you could mutter out of your shock. 

“To… remember me, I guess. Thank you for helping me get there,” Deuce said, then he gave you a smile and went back to his mom.

You were left speechless but were slowly overshadowed by a wave of sadness. This was one of the last times you’d see him. He was moving away to go to a school on Sage Island, and you were moving to be closer to your soon-to-be high school.

But they didn't know that.

That button was the closest to his heart, and it’s known that most give it to the person closest to them. You let out a small laugh before sighing, and then after taking one last look, you left the campus.

Deuce headed up to your apartment door and knocked, a bit nervous as he knew that giving you the button was risky on his end, but he knew what he felt.

He listened, but no one opened the door. He kept knocking with a look of confusion, but still no answer.

He grew worried, so he put his hands on the doorknob to see if it was locked.

“It's open…?” Deuce said to himself before he went in. He was met with nothing.

Not a sound.

Not a noise.

Not a soul in the home.

It was dark, but everything began to click in mere seconds. Before Deuce knew it, he ran back into his home and tried to call your old phone number, but nothing went through.

You were gone, and he didn't know if that was the last.

The weather had then changed from spring to summer, followed by fall, until the days started becoming darker a lot earlier in accordance with winter. You were cleaning a cup at a restaurant job you picked up, and it was almost time to close. The seating area had a few people, but it was normal for a weekday.

You started to reminisce about your high school days and how everything was back then. It gave you a smile to remember that boy. You had your own changes to your appearance since then, but you were still the same.

The dinging of the door caught your attention and cut off your train of thought, giving a smile to greet anyone who just came in, “Welcome in! Take a s—”

Silence.

Your breath hitched as you saw the pair of eyes you were just thinking about.

His own reaction showed a bit of surprise, but he looked unfazed. Unchanged from the seasons that have passed.

He looked the same to you, and you were the one who changed this time.

“You—” followed by a pause, not knowing how to continue.

The boy gave you a warm smile as he kept standing at the door and had his hands in his pockets. He came up closer to the counter before he sat down.

“Hey.”

[heather-chandlers-weirder-cousin]

Can I ask why you don't want K-12 teachers following you? I'm a high school dropout and not a teacher, I'm just curious

lmao it’s cool, I wouldn’t have assumed you were, I have an. Extremely fringe stance on this.

so I went to traditional public school for elementary and middle school. It is, without question, the worst thing that has ever happened to me, the cause of pretty much all of my problems, etc. you get the the deal. Near the time I was finally expelled, I was miserable to the point of suicidality, barely ever left my room aside from being forced to go to school because I was so depressed, would at some points self-harm with biting in class so I could be excused.

And you know who the reason for this is? Teachers. I’m not going to pretend I was a perfect little sad kid because I wasn’t, I had a well-deserved reputation for being a demon child. Teachers hated me, and I would provoke fights with them, and I only submitted 2 finished assignments in the entirety of middle school. But the thing is that for everything I did, teachers responded with completely disproportionate vitriol. I did not deserve to have a teacher threaten to punch me for not finishing a worksheet, I did not deserve to be called a prideful brat for going nonverbal during an argument, I did not deserve to have my arm twisted for being too loud. Even if I had, do you know how it affects someone, especially a kid who’s actively trying to build a worldview, to be constantly told that they are nothing but a problem and that they will never be worth something and that they are a failure in everything, and it’s their fault? It messes you up, permanently, to have almost every authority figure you know hate you during your developmental years.

I have met, maybe, one teacher who didn’t constantly insult and disrespect and humiliate me. And you could say that it was my fault if every teacher treated me like that- I was a difficult kid, sure. But the thing is that I have witnessed incidents similar to how they treated me with other kids- I was a difficult kid, so I was treated like that constantly, but I was not some magical student that made every teacher near me turn into child-hating pieces of shit. All of them were the kind of people who would yell at a kid for annoying them before I showed up, I just happened to piss them off enough that they felt comfortable treating me like that routinely. And you can give me a thousand excuses about them being underpaid or overworked or whatever, and those are problems that should be solved, because everyone, even people I hate, deserve to live life comfortably- but at the end of the day, they still don’t justify what I went through. Practically everyone has a shitty job, and not everyone destroys kid’s self-esteem about it: k12 teachers are disgusting people, and I don’t want them on my blog.

thank you.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Fushimi-Sukuna gaming buddies but now Yata joins in. Yata and Sukuna don't get along which is troublesome. Fushimi leaves for to grab some food and the other two are alone to talk. Yata says Sukuna probably didn't have friends with his attitude and Sukuna replies he doesn't need friends as the only one he had back then was a fake. Yata could relate to that and decide to give the kid a chance and sees Sukuna isn't so bad either. No one admits to being friends but that's kinda what they are now.

All three of them being good friends and constantly yelling ‘We’re not friends!’ when anyone asks XD Maybe Yata starts gaming with Fushimi and Sukuna initially out of a bit of protectiveness and suspicion, like he learns that Fushimi and Sukuna are gaming together and part of him can’t believe that the little brat from jungle could be Fushimi’s friend (‘he’s not,’ Fushimi protests, and Yata sighs). Yata’s kinda worried that maybe Sukuna is trying to pull something, like yeah Saruhiko’s smart and would probably know if he was being tricked but you never know and anyway Fushimi’s not good with emotions so maybe he wouldn’t notice if he was being tricked into friendship. Fushimi doesn’t mind letting Yata join, more players means less grind, though Sukuna’s not very happy about that loudmouth from Homra joining. When they start playing together it’s definitely Yata and Sukuna both vying for Fushimi’s attention while arguing with each other and meanwhile Fushimi would just like to play his game thanks. 

During one campaign Fushimi has to step out for a bit to run to the convenience store because he’s out of unhealthy snacks. They’re in the middle of the game so Yata and Sukuna are left on their own while Fushimi’s gone and of course they’re immediately making snarky comments towards each other. Yata says he just doesn’t trust that Sukuna’s not toying with Fushimi and making Fushimi think they’re friends, Sukuna says they aren’t friends and anyway Yata’s just mad because with his attitude he probably doesn’t have any friends at all. Yata says Sukuna’s the one who only has Saruhiko to play the game with and he probably never had any friends in school. Sukuna gets sulky and says he didn’t need school friends, the only guy who he thought was his friend was just a fake all along, only pretending to like him.

Yata’s about to make a snide comment back but that makes him pause and he finds himself admitting that he knows what that’s like. Sukuna grumbles that he doesn’t and Yata’s like I mean it might not be the same thing but I used to have some guys who I thought liked me but they were really making fun of me all that time, I didn’t have a real friend until I met Saruhiko. Sukuna says he didn’t have a real friend until he met Nagare and that’s when it kinda clicks for Yata that even if they were enemies jungle still had the same feelings towards their King that he had for Mikoto and Anna. Fushimi comes back right at that moment and they get back to the game, he notices that Yata’s suddenly become less confrontational towards Sukuna but doesn’t comment on it. After this they start playing together as a group pretty often and even if no one admits to it Yata at least thinks maybe it isn’t so bad giving Sukuna real friends for once. 

[hiiragi7]

I feel abuse in schools is often very downplayed or undertalked about, not just between kids (bullying/peer abuse) but also abuse from teachers to students.

It makes it very difficult to talk about sometimes, the severe trauma responses we have from memories of being treated like shit our whole life by teachers, because nobody treats this subject seriously - people call it discipline.

We downplay it ourselves because we were a "bratty" child that "deserved it".

Teachers feel absolutely free to call any misbehaving child any name under the sun and treat them however they want physically and the internet praises them for being brutually honest and not babying them.

It's exhausting - What we survived was not discipline, it was abuse.

Tw for explicit discussion of trauma beneath the cut.

We were yelled at every single day in school ever since we started school. We could never do anything right, we were "poorly behaved" (read: autistic and comorbid ADHD) and constantly getting in trouble for not understanding directions and having shutdowns and were always getting sent to the principal's office or sent home every day in elementary school.

We were physically restricted during sensory overloads and pulled around and pushed by teachers when they were upset and wanted us to do something. We didn't understand what they wanted. We were overwhelmed, constantly.

A lot of being very young is very fuzzy, but at least by the time we entered middle school the teachers insulted us very obviously and freely. Brat, failure, not even trying, never going to go anywhere in life, overdramatic, don't even care about being here, making things up for attention, never going to pass, never going to be able to get a job, smartass, accused of not understanding the material on purpose when we asked questions and actually tried because "there's no way you can't understand this, come on", constant insistence we were faking our shutdowns or chronic illness to avoid work. The list goes on, and on, and on, and on.

We found, at some point along the line, that it hurt worse to be insulted for not understanding and for the work we tried on because it wasn't good enough rather than the hurt that came with being yelled at constantly for just not trying at all.

It was less personal. We were yelled at for something we didn't try on rather than for something we did our best on and wasn't good enough.

There was no point in trying, anyway. It was never good enough.

So we stopped trying.

Our IEP accomodations were never followed, our teachers would rip away comfort items and threaten to "trash them in a dumpster" or light them on fire or take them away forever, sometimes things *were* taken away and never returned.

Our teachers constantly reported us to our parents even when we begged them to do anything else because our parents would hurt us - The teachers began reporting specifically to the most abusive one of them, our stepmother, because they thought it would teach us a lesson and motivate us to actually do our work.

We would be reported for anything. We got reported the most for having shutdowns (where we cannot move or respond at all to outside stimuli and was screamed at for not responding to the teachers and threatened until the teachers called our parents and the principal or even security) or for falling asleep - We have a severe progressive illness that began being noticeable around late middle school-early highschool, and we were always falling asleep when we did not want to.

We tried whatever we could to stay awake, and still would lose consciousness against our will. We tried medications, different kinds caffeine (even dangerously high doses), different sleep schedules as much as our body would allow it. Nothing helped.

We were yelled at for being lazy, we were physically shaken awake very hard often, we were grabbed and teachers wouldn't let go no matter what we said, we had pillows and blankets ripped away and calls to our parents and reports to the principal when we weren't even conscious.

We were the only child that was not allowed near the couch area in SPED even when promised otherwise if we did our work. After we filled their requirements they'd say they changed their minds.

When we were at risk of losing consciousness, they'd say do it on the floor instead of the couch. So we did.

When we were having a meltdown, they'd say do it at the desk instead of the couch. So we did.

They'd say they wouldn't believe our illness causing such bad fatigue and slowness and confusion and pain was real until we got a doctor's note saying so and her recommendations (which was that we do not know the cause but are looking into it and to just give us a space for our body to rest because it's going to do it whether we actively want it to or not), so we did.

It still wasn't good enough, they still didn't believe us, we still got called lazy, we still got screamed at and physically moved around and reported and sent to the principal's office or back home where they knew what would happen.

We were denied accomodations on our IEP because they felt we hadn't earned them, the SPED teachers said we couldn't leave the classroom during an overload because they didn't think it was "that loud", they'd threaten us to "make a better choice" during a shutdown or else they'd punish us, our good days were used against us on all our other days ("You didn't fall asleep the other day and made it to half your classes on time for once, so why are you struggling now? You must be faking"), when we were not making it to classes on time due to the fatigue and slowness and confusion we'd be dragged around the halls by our wrist or arm to move faster, we were only allowed to use the bathroom (it had to be unlocked for us because we had to use a single-stall one) once or twice a week total, basic needs were seen as rights to be earned and we never deserved them enough to have them, SPED teachers placed in our regular classes to support us would just ignore us because they felt we were "actually high-functioning" and manipulating and lying to them about the severity of our disabilities and how we did not understand the content so we did not deserve their help.

This is only a small handful of my experiences - We have so many more. We need to do better as a community of survivors to talk about and support those who have been hurt by their teachers like this.

It is not "brutually honest" to call a child a brat for their behavior as a teacher in a position of power over them - You are just mocking a kid without caring to understand them.

If you cannot be a teacher without calling children petty names, maybe you shouldn't be one.

Others feel free to add on.

[delu-jean]

Erwin x reader based on attack on caste, could you make reader like one of his crew worker friend tysm 💌

𝐌𝐫. 𝐒𝐦𝐢����𝐡

(Erwin x fem!/reader) -> fluff -> 1.9k

Request: Erwin x reader based on attack on caste, could you make reader like one of his crew worker friend tysm 💌

Notes: I haven't read it, but saw a brief summary on the separate au! Since I had quite the freedom, this is a confession scenario and the reader is a teacher! Thanks for the request, and hope it's to your liking. ^^

Erwin was the History teacher. That being said, you were the English teacher, only two rooms away from his. Levi and Hange had always known you had quite the crush on him. Hange would constantly tease you about it, and surprisingly, Levi would use it as blackmail (he used it only when you refused to buy him new cleaning supplies). That being said, your bank account was not doing the best. He had you constantly on your toes since you didn’t want Erwin knowing about how you felt...well...not yet at least. You wanted to do things when you felt it was right, although...you never knew if that time would come.

English was something you liked teaching, and since Erwin had a liking for literature (and history of course), you’d take advantage of that every now and then. You see, Erwin wouldn’t approach you, rather, you did with books and all different types of topics. Hoping that you could extend your time together. Your conversations were rather...interesting. He took his pride and joy into your talks, expressing how much he loved your variety. And you would constantly talk about how extraordinary his taste was.

Each time you brought a new book and obtained his praise, it made you blush. You couldn’t help but feel so smitten for someone like Erwin. Perfect in every aspect, your co-worker, and a very kind person in general. Though you thought that, it seemed others thought differently.

“Miss. L/n, why do you even like Mr. Smith? I mean, he’s so generic and boring in my opinion. Wouldn’t you rather go out with a guy like me?” Jean snickered as you shook your head.

“Jean, that’s none of your business. Plus, who said I had such inappropriate feelings for Mr. Smith?”

“Miss, sorry to inform you, but Jean does have a point-” you then looked at Eren in a defensive way.

“Not in that way...it’s just that, it’s obvious you like him,” Jean then followed after Eren spoke:

“Yeah, you’re constantly approaching him and well...he kind of doesn’t-”

“Shut up Jean!” Annie threw her bag at him.

“You don’t have to be such an ass. None of the girls think it’s cute”

“Shut up Annie!”

“H-hey, let’s calm down-”

“Armin, you too! Be quiet!”

“Enough. All of you in your seats right now,” you hallared and the students did as told. Though you hated to admit, those little kids did have a point. You always came after Erwin, and he, never after you. He probably saw you as a friend if anything. Just someone he could casually talk to when it came to english...nothing else. Though Hange had thought differently, if Levi didn’t say anything...your hunch was probably right. Speaking of Heichou, he surprisingly flung the door after all of the commotion.

“Oi, shut up brats.”

“Janitor Levi!” They all sat in silence since they were scared of him (given the intimidating look).

“You know what, I’m sick and tired of this. I’ve been waiting for one of you idiots to actually do something.”

“Mr. Ackerman, that’s absurd-”

“No it’s not. Let’s go, all of us now. If he rejects you, then too bad. And if he accepts you...well that’ll be disgusting but it’ll get out of my way.”

“I’m still in the middle of receding Shakspere-”

Hange would come in with her lab coat drenched in some kind of liquid. You wouldn’t question though, since it was probably something harmful. You didn’t need her to lose her job, plus, you enjoyed her company quite a lot.

“C’mon Y/n! He totally likes you-” Jean would snort, causing Eren to punch his shoulder.

“Well...as I was saying, he obviously does! Come on! Do you really want to be that one depressed English teacher who’s single till her 70’s?”

“And what if I do?” you questioned.

“ Well I know you don’t, so let’s get going!”

Hange would drag you to Erwin. The students followed, and Levi trailed behind. He made sure that most of the crowd was under control, and that he could see the deed was done himself (from afar of course). You guys looked like a kindergarten line awaiting to go outside. Jean and Eren fought here and there, but other than that, everyone else was quiet. Waiting for what was yet to come.

Hange smacked open the door and yelled

“ERWINNNNNNNNN! I’VE GOT A SPECIAL SURPRISE FOR YOU!”

“Hange...please don’t-”

“Oh, what is it Y/n?” The philosopher was putting a book away. He looked very handsome while doing so, and Hange could tell that’s how you were thinking.

“Oh, that’s right”

Hange then pushed you into the classroom, and forced everyone away as you sat utterly speechless. She smirked, winked, and did almost every teasing gesture she could. Erwin sat fixated on you, wondering what surprise was going to be given...and ohoho, was he really in for one.

Erwin then walked closer to you and put a hand on your shoulder. You jumped a bit at the sudden motion, but tried keeping calm. Your heart raced as he then said:

“Hange, what is the matter at hand about? I have to prepare for my next class, and quite frankly, this is time consuming.”

‘Time consuming?...’ you sulked a bit disappointed.

“Okay okay, so I won’t be delivering it...but instead Y/n will!! You two have fun, and I’ll come check up on the both of you later!” she then slammed the door and he removed his hand from you.

“I’m sorry Miss. L/n, I didn’t realize it was you who had something to show me.”

“N-no, don’t be. Mr. Smith, if you’re busy I won’t bother you and will be on my way-”

“I’m not busy…” he muttered as he leaned on his desk.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you asked, trying to see if what you heard was right. He then approached closer, now both of you face to face (with a gap because of your height difference). He crossed his arms, and you watched as his eyes darted at yours.

He seemed to be genuine with what he said, and you could tell by the way his eyes had softened. He looked very gentle and cautious. Maybe this had to do with the fact that you were such a doubtful/uncertain person...or that he didn’t want to hurt your feelings? You weren’t sure what to conclude, and because of that, asked:

“But then, what you said to Miss. Hange-”

“I meant what I said to her. I’m too busy to deal with whatever nonsense she has to show me. Though she does show interesting things, as of right now, I really do have a class to prepare for,” you then bit your cheek, looking away as he continued.

“But, I’m never too busy for you. If you have another novel to share, I’d love to hear about it. I’ve always got time to make for you, and even if I don’t in the moment, I will try my best afterwards,” your cheeks flushed as he smiled. Such an earnest gentleman giving you such gestures, made you melt. You then watched as he grabbed your hand, making you immediately look at him.

“Haha, I was hoping that would work. Now, what is it that you wanted to tell me, Miss. L/n?”

“That I...I um...that that…” you inhaled deeply trying to think straight. It was now or never, and if he rejected you, at least you would be able to move on. Though it might’ve been awkward, at least he would’ve been honest, and you as well.

“Mr. Smith...no, I mean...Erwin Smith,” he seemed shocked as you called his name. You’ve never said it infront of him which he found quite alluring. Though he thought that, seeing his sudden change in reaction, you thought you stepped over a boundary.

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No no, you’re more than welcome to call me that. So continue, Y/n.”

“Oh, okay. Erwin...I, I like you. I’ve liked you for a while now and have wanted to tell you...but I was a little scared.”

“What were you scared of?”

“Well...that things would get awkward for us as co-workers-”

“Why would things get awkward?” his tone was sharp as he asked you, seeming as if you were in the middle of an interrogation.

“W-well, since you would’ve rejected me-”

“Who said I would?” he locked his gaze into yours, noticing how fearful you seemed. He then straightened himself, and then squeezed your palm. Ever so soft did the notion feel, as he then stated:

“Y/n...I like you a lot as well. From the first moment I saw you, I was dazed by your presence. You were just so...beautiful...both physically, and well...in general,” you looked at him, now feeling as if he was surprising you. Though Erwin had such a way with words, you never thought he would express them this way...especially to you.

“The way you lit up any room, how you adorably approached me with good taste in texts, and how you’ve made sure to make your students the best they can be. Those few factors made me really look up to you. You give yourself less credit than you deserve, and I hope that after hearing that...well...you try differently,” he then intertwined his hand with yours. His fingers laced tightly, as yours dangeld gently.

“But...why did you never approach me?...If you felt like this, why didn’t you do things first?”

“One being that we need to act professional during school hours. Though I felt like this, I still needed to set some boundaries being that you are also my co-worker, and fellow teacher. Two being that I wanted to see you try yourself. Though you do seem to let yourself down, watching as you approached me, and did your best when doing so...made me glad that you were pushing yourself to keep on going.”

“Also...I got to know a lot about you during our conversations...and secretly wanted to keep on enjoying them without the pressure of my feelings.”

“I see…” you then watched as he pecked your hand, it almost felt as if the motion had come out of a fairy tale, one you’d never think you’d be in. The scene in front of you had you thinking about a happily ever after, one that you would like. Though you wouldn’t know how it would end, you did however know how it would start. This just being the beginning.

“Y/n...would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

“Yes, of course...Erwin,” you’d grin to then hear a commotion swarm into the classroom.

“HAHA THEY DID IT! SEE Y/N, WHAT DID I SAY!?”

“Oi, shut up four eyes. I got the train moving, so where’s my credit?”

“Wait, she actually went for him?-”

“Shut up horse face, no one cares about your opinion-”

“Eren you son of a-”

“Students, I know what you’ve just watched might’ve been...not shocking but rather, nice? Regardless, it’s time for you to get ready for history. Get your materials ready, and we can start.”

“Yes Mr. Smith,” they said in unison heading towards your class (to collect their materials). He then swooped you in, and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“See you later, don’t spend too much time reciting books.”

“I won’t Mr. Smith,” he then eyed for you to chuckle as his reaction.

“You are the history teacher, no?”

“Yes but...I’m Erwin to you, Erwin Smith,” he grinned as you stepped out the door.

“Alright alright, I’ll see you later...Erwin.”

[crymeariveronceagain]

Anyways I'm sorry but is ranting okay? I want some advice on something but I don't want to seem like a brat by asking anyone irl.

So my parents are amazing. They've sacrificed so much for me and all my issues are also due to some other events in my life, but like...

When I was in middle school my mental health was bad. Very bad. Like I *ahem* sh bad. When they found out, along with some other stuff, their reaction was to guilt trip me about how much I was hurting them, and for my mom, to scream at me. I understand they were worried, but their approach to my maybe-depression-but-undiagnosed-BECAUSE-of-them really hasn't changed. They, my mom especially, act like everything that I said and thought was due to my friends at the time (yes some of it was but most of it was not) and not because hey! Maybe I'm not actually the happy perfect kid you wanted! Not to mention: I'm asexual, arospec and maybe biromantic, idk, and she/they. To say they wouldn't be happy is... an understatement. Once, I made a joke about liking girls, and my mom pulled over while driving to yell at me about how I need to 'be normal'. Another time I was at a friend's house, and my friend's mom referenced me and my friend as 'they'. My mom then called me up to yell at me about why she 'called me they'. She does this constantly; she once yelled at me and interrogated me in the doctors office about my honest answers to a mental health exam, even though she had told me to lie and I was already exhausted and not ready to talk about this. She also alternates between being mad at me and screaming and just acting normal and being nice, and... I get that's just how she is, but it puts me on edge a lot, and I'm never sure if she'll be nice or yell at me. My dad is... different. He's more consistent and stuff, but he also seems to think anyone who isn't him is automatically wrong and dumb. He brushes aside my opinions all the time just because I disagree with him, calls me lazy and fatshames me, and even though it usually doesn't bother me as much because I'm not close to him at all, it still does.

And the worst part is it affects my brother! They fight a lot, and yeah I'm used to it, but my mom will brag about how they never get 'the kids' involved in their fights and them yell about getting a divorce in front of my brother. Who is an actual child. Not even a teenager he's a child. He's even started repeating some of the same things my dad tells me! I just- I love them, but I'm really starting to wonder if being here is good for my mental health, you know? Is that wrong? Am I just being oversensitive?

hello, beloved! Sorry it took so long to get to your ask! be assured I didn't mind it and that ranting is okay!

and can i just say to answer your last question right off the bat

from what you've said here

it does not sound like you're being oversensitive. This sounds really hard to deal with, and very un-fun.

I'm sorry you have had to deal with that. That's super rough. I get what you're going through quite a bit. I've had a couple similar things happen to me, and a few of my friends have mentioned things like this. Parents... are pieces of work sometimes. And that sucks, because we depend on them so much for everything. I'm assuming from the way you're talking that you're still a couple years from college or turning 18, dearest anon, which means you probably see your parents more right now than you ever will again in your life.

And it does honestly sound really pretty bad from what you've said here. You do not deserve to live like this. I'm saying that again for the people in the back.

You do not deserve to live like this.

So, yeah. I could tell you how beautiful and worthy you are. But it's not gonna change the situation at home. I hope you know that you are beautiful, and you are worthy, and that whatever your parents say or do doesn't matter.

They're just people. As much as it feels like they're more than that, they are simply people. Human beings. Human beings are complex, and flawed, and cracked, and torn. They do good things and bad in the same breath, without questioning it. And as rough as it can be, your parents are only human at the end of the day.

Which is probably why they suck so much sometimes. We are broken people.

Although, I will say, the sexuality thing is absolutely terrifying, and I entirely get your parents reactions being worrisome. And I know you want acceptance and all that, everyone does. It's such a funny thing, society. They've told us for years that "we don't need to be accepted! be your true authentic self and that's all you need to be!" like, first of all, that's a bold faced lie. Humans are societal creatures, and we need acceptance to live. So for people to say that acceptance is unnecessary as long as we're being ourselves is just a vast oversight of human psychology. We crave to be seen, known, and loved like we need air and water. Personally, I'd suggest not coming out to your parents or making references to it, as much as it's gonna hurt not to, based one what you've told me. It sounds like they'd take it really poorly, and I want you to be loved and safe, anon.

But hey, the nice thing about asexuality/aromanticism is screw them you'd don't have to do anything unless you want to. Like seriously. This is something I learned while questioning my own sexuality(and then stopping, admittedly) but society places far too much importance on sex. Marriage, sex and babies are not the be-all, end-all, no matter what the rom-coms say, or the books, or the movies, or the ads. We live in a hyper-sexualized culture. And I think a part of the reason there are so many people who identify as asexual today is because this hypersexualized culture and world does not appeal to them. Like, either they're disgusted or they just don't want in. I think that's completely valid. I don't want in, either.

If/When people ask if you're gonna get married/have kids, just say nah. Like, if that's what they wanna focus on about you, just. Nah. Or say something fun like, "Why would I want kids? They're gonna eat my toes." They'll be so shook they're gonna drop the entire topic. Unless of course you do want kids(also valid!!!!) in which case say, "Great question, I'll ask my lawyer!" and walk away.

Anyway. Also, side note, remember that as much as it can feel like it, you are not the sum total of your gender and sexuality. I know you've heard that before, in a million different ways from a million different people. But let me promise you. Your gender and your sexuality are not who you are. The colors of your pride flags do not create you. So, even if your parents don't get to know this about you, that's just fine, because you are not your sexuality. You are not your gender. You are more than that. You are thoughts, opinions, personality, behaviors. You are the love you show towards others, you are the feeling in your chest when you know you'd do anything for them, even at your own expense, and they'd do it for you. So even if you don't want to/can't safely come out to your parents, trust me when I say that your sexuality and your gender are just tiny pieces to who you are. Like, honestly, little puzzle pieces to the thousand piece puzzle that makes up you.

Also, about the brother. That is the worst. I hate that it happens, and I'm sorry. Your brother should love you, as much as your father should, as much as your mother should. That's how it should be. Sometimes things don't work out like that. Sometimes ideal reality is not what we get.

What I recommend there is telling your brother that that's mean, and that it makes you sad/hurts you. I'd also recommend telling him when your parents say things that hurt you, even if only in passing. Also stress that he shouldn't say anything like that to anyone else. Tell him it's mean and no one likes being around mean people. Or, basically, whatever age-appropriate version of this is available to you.

If you already do, YES! ANON! GOOD JOB!

Anyways. I'm proud of you. You are doing your best, and I can tell.

Do not be afraid to keep on living, beloved. Someday this world will be kinder.

[kirikiribaku]

I saw your KiriBaku headcanons post, and your Kirishima not liking Bakugou's mum headcanon got me intrigued! I mean, I understand (Im not her biggest fan either and admittedly very prone to antagonizing her), but I'm interested to hear your ideas for it!

boy. When I read this ask I told myself: I’m gonna sit down in front of the computer and write a well-argued answer. So now I have this 1k-words essay in a word document that I’m about to copy-paste here. Enjoy.

On why Kirishima wouldn’t like Bakugou’s mum.

Okay, so first of all, full disclaimer, this is all a result of my own headcanons (that may have been inspired by some canon content), but still remain as that, headcanons.

We don’t know much about Bakugou’s mum besides the fact that she works in the fashion industry and that she’s...

well. Pretty aggressive.

The scene where Aizawa comes ask for the kids’ parents’ permission to move into the dorms is the one time we get to see Katsuki’s parents and their personalities, and while I can understand the appeal of making Mitsuki rough and aggressive (his son really takes after her!), there’s just something that doesn’t feel right.  We see her hit Bakugou multiple times while his teachers are there, she even pushes his head down into an apologetic bow, and we know this must have been normal during Katsuki’s childhood because of what he says during the remedial course.

That’s how he was raised! What does that mean? That he received a few slaps every time he was being a brat? That his mum would yell at him and he didn’t hesitate to raise his voice back until she lost her patience? (is that why he talks so loudly all the time now?) Not the ideal environment for a kid, and yes it probably has a lot to do with all his anger issues as a teenager.  

But what really really gets to me is this one particular panel.

I understand this probably might have been drawn as a gag panel, “Oh look, they’re fighting again haha! That must be lowkey uncomfortable for the teachers!”.

But I don’t think calling Bakugou weak for being kidnapped is funny. And I don’t think he could just brush it off at that time.

The guilt and self-hate that must have (still are) eating at Bakugou, that would build up to the catharsis during Deku vs Kacchan 2, must’ve only been worsened by comments like that one.

So yeah. No. Not at all what Mitsuki should’ve said as his mother.

If we know little about Bakugou’s parents, we know nothing about Kirishima’s family (Horikoshi please this is me begging you). But we do know Kirishima: sweet, friendly, all sunshine smiles and words of encouragement! He is the opposite of Bakugou in that aspect, and that makes me think that his parents mums are completely different from Mitsuki too.

I imagine (again, we are entering headcanon territory) Kirishima was raised in a caring environment, showered with love and affection. He was probably a pretty well mannered kid too, so he didn’t argue with his mums often, and they never raised a hand against him.

So now, what do you think Kirishima’s opinion of Bakugou’s mum would be, if he ever met her?

I don’t think Katsuki talks about his mum much (if at all) with his classmates. Why would he. But then again we saw the “I was raised this way” quote earlier, so let’s say Kirishima and he talk about her at some point, for the sake of this argument. 

Maybe they’re on a study date in Bakugou’s room, Kirishima still finishing his homework while Bakugou reads laying on his bed. Kirishima’s been telling Bakugou about how excited he is to go back home for the holidays because he wants to see his mums, that they’re gonna go shopping and cook together. Bakugou remains silent, humming from time to time to signal he’s paying attention, but not looking at Kiri. There’s silence when Kirishima stops talking, and since it doesn’t seem like Bakugou is gonna say anything on his own accord, he asks: “Hey, I just realised, you’ve never told me what your mum’s like.”

Bakugou scoffs, “she’s fucking annoying.”

“Oh, come on,” Kirishima teases, “she can’t be that bad.”

Bakugou shrugs. His brow is furrowed and his shoulders tense. He turns to his side, showing his back to Kirishima. “I’d much rather stay here training, holidays‘re a waste of time.”

Kirishima’s face falls. It’s not just Bakugou’s words that get to him, but his whole body language. It’s not like when he refuses to hang out with the class in the common room on a week day, or when he reluctantly agrees to go to the game centre with their friends. He looks truly uncomfortable. The idea of not enjoying the precious days one gets to spend with their family is... depressing for Kirishima. He feels sad for Bakugou; just what kind of environment did Bakugou grow up in?

If Kirishima were ever to witness Mitsuki calling Bakugou weak, I’m sure he would snap and jump into the argument to defend Bakugou. Knowing Kirishima’s backstory, and how bad he struggled with confidence-issues in middle school, this is probably one of the worst insults for him – and it’s being thrown at one of the strongest people he knows, a kid he’s grown to admire and whose words serve as inspiration for him!

So Kirishima cannot accept it. He would stand up and praise Bakugou for all he’s worth, his manliness and his ambition, his power and his technique, with such confidence and determination that it would leave Mitsuki at a loss for words. And he would be appalled that it was Katsuki’s own mother who was slandering him so easily like that

TL;DR: What I’m trying to say is that Bakugou’s relationship with his mum seems uncomfortable and stressful, the kind of mother-son relationship that would make Bakugou feel locked in and constantly on edge in his own house, maybe even not appreciated. Kirishima is perceptive enough to notice that, and that’s why he doesn’t like Bakugou’s mother.

[krysandra]

Made a gold watcher Oc, I know I said I was barely in that fandom anymore but I’m trying to get back into it.

This is Otis, a necromancer, born and raised in America, where in America is unknown.

Personality:

Mostly kind

Very timid though.

He doesn’t look like it, but he has the sense of humor of a 15 year old. He WILL laugh at fire hydrant jokes.

A memer at heart. Once you get to know him, he will start to tell jokes nonstop and will become more open.

Prefers to kill mortals quickly just to get it over with.

It’s hard to gain his trust as his sister back when he was alive would lie to his face every minute of everyday.

He has a “I’m so sick of your shit” face

Don’t anger him, he is really chill most of the time but when he’s mad… just imagine him T-Posing over satan.

He LOVES grapes, fucking loves.

Appearance:

A 192 ft tall slim statue made of dull gold

Wears a black had that shimmers and glitters with a purple feather, hat has a cloth on it with white light spots, almost completely diming his face

His hair is in a really messy bun

He doesn’t have a pinky finger on his left hand and he has been torn up and is constantly spilling black blood, that’s why he Carry’s around that towel on his arm just in case the bleeding gets to out of hand.

His one eye glows purple

He has a nearly completely black, dark purple outfit, a bit different from the other gold watchers, he has a dark black and purple cape with black pants and knee high black boots

One glove and he can occasionally be seen practicing dark magic.

His face is scratched up.

All injury’s caused by a fight with another gold watcher

Other:

He can’t do much with his black magic, he does have the capability to heal others but he can’t heal himself

But the thing is, he does have a secret ability he prefers not to use, he can turn people to into purple dust and he will stash the dust and use it for more Magic power.

He can usually be found either in the theater watching plays or on dark rooms of the manor practicing magic

Pansexual

Backstory: (warning, gets a bit disturbing)

Otis was born August 7th 1723, while his mom was very ill. His family were dark magic practicers, disowned by the townsfolk. A few months later after his birth, his little sister Grace was born, but his mother didn’t survive the birth due to her illness. Most of his life he was raised by a very loving father, who adored, and got along so well with. Though the kids didn’t like him due to his family constantly being accused of witchcraft, he made it through school and was a very talented student. He would always come home after school and practice magic with his father.

Otis was very happy, but he had a problem, his sister. His sister was a spoiled little brat, at the age of 7 she would scream and yell at the top of her lungs in the middle of the streets on her way to school with Otis because the Otis didn’t want to pick her up. They were the same age, and only 7 like how tf was he gonna pick her up?

She would lie to him all the time.

One day, when Otis was 18, and already out of school due to how smart he was, he was practicing his dark magic and found a way to heal others. His sister comes busting through the door, drunk, he sighs and turned to look at her and noticed she was covered in blood, accusing her, in her drunken state she blurts out she hit their dad over the head with a glass bottle. Of course the one time she decides to tell the truth, she tells him that. In terror he shoved past her and into the kitchen where he saw his dad bleeding, quickly he ran to him and used to healing ability he just learned to try and help but the man was already dead, the blow must have been powerful, then again the man was old. Out of rage Otis lunged at his sister and strangled her, but he stopped, he couldn’t bare to kill his own sister despite what she had done, while she was gasping for air, he took her stuff and threw it at her and told her to get the fuck out of the house and that she was never allowed there again.

She left and he immediately told the towns sherif, but he lied about the story, he said that he came home from fishing to see his dad dead and his sister missing. The days grew cold for him as he sat alone in his dark house. He was practicing his magic when all of a sudden his sister came back in, he slowly turned to her, glaring daggers, she was holding her stomach and removed her hand to show a gash in her stomach, she pleaded for help, for his magic. He put on his poker face and said “I don’t know how to help, I barley know how to heal!” And he watched ad she fell to the floor, barely alive, but hanging in there, after months of resentment towards her she decided to come back and ask for help? After what she did? Never. He took a knife from the kitchen and went to her, “but I can put you out for your misery” he smiled down at her.

Her body was now dust and was displayed on the shelf. Little did Otis know that someone heard the commotion. A few days later people where investigating his house and they saw the bloodstains in the jar of his sisters dust. He was questioned and he confesses, not wanting to live that life anymore.

He was sentenced for murder and witchcraft, he was killed by being slashed at by the townsfolk at the age of 19, 1742. Said powers followed him to a grave and he decided to become a necromancer and a healer, trying to forget what he was and what he had done in his past life. He has a new life now, one he didn’t want but one better then what he had.

(Spare me, I’m not a good writer.)

I wanted to try to get back into the fandom, as I just found out someone in my art class in school likes dark deceptions and likes to read stuff about it, so I thought, why not. Plus I was bored. And some people seem to really enjoy his design so I thought I’d go into more depth with him.

[tsumusamu]

call you mine i [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: 5.3k

warnings: slow burn, bad writing (it’s been a while since i’ve written something), mild sexual language/references

part one (you are here) / part two / part three / part four

content under the cut!

You were six years old when you first met Miya Atsumu.

He and his brother were seated directly behind you in your first year of primary school. You were always aware of their presence — it was hard to not be, as the twins constantly caused trouble. They often disturbed class with their petty arguments and the many spitballs that they used to terrorize their classmates just for laughs (luckily you were never a target). You had turned your nose up at them at first; boys have cooties, after all.

One fateful day, however, Atsumu cornered you near the swings during recess time, a scowl painted across his face.

"You there! (L/N)!" he had shouted. "Who's cuter?! Me or 'Samu?"

"Osamu of course," you replied without hesitation, trying not to laugh as Atsumu exhaled an angry puff of hot air.

He had then poured his goldfish crackers on your head.

Atsumu never left your side after that. At the time, you were a little annoyed. It meant having him follow you around at school and poke at you for random things, whether it be that your shirt was a funny color (you all wore the same uniform shirt but apparently that's besides the point) or that he needs an extra pencil while trying to hide his own behind his back (you always complied anyway; you learned quickly that it's best to shut up him as soon as possible).

He stuck to you like glue; always there to jab playfully at you and pull your pigtails and steal part of your lunch, sticking his tongue out at you when you protested. He enjoyed provoking you; you were a relatively calm kid but Atsumu always knew how to get you riled up. Your mother had almost passed out from shock one day upon seeing you and Atsumu wrestling on the porch before your walk to school (Osamu had been standing off to the side subtly egging the both of you on). But Atsumu's actions never came with malicious intentions, and both of you were well aware of that. It was "frenemies" except that you weren't really enemies; the two of you just liked to mess with each other.

Despite all of the constant yelling and bickering and arguing and tantrums that plagued your early relationship with him, you found yourself growing closer and closer to the annoying little brat named Miya Atsumu.

And eventually, as natural progression goes, he became your best friend who you couldn't imagine life without.

Atsumu was (and is) infuriating, bratty, whiny, childish, arrogant — the list goes on and on. Yet, silly, foolish you developed a crush on him when you were in your final year of middle school. After being friends with Atsumu for years and spending many summers playing volleyball in the park, autumns rolling around in the fallen leaves, winters chucking snowballs at each other, and springs picking bouquets for your mothers (Atsumu made you swear that you wouldn't tell anyone that he picked flowers for his Mom, but when Osamu found out he had laughed his arse off and told everyone anyway), your heart decided to give itself to the boy who's been both a pain in your ass and one of the greatest people in your life.

You fell for him — hard.

Scared of what your feelings would do to your friendship, you kept them hidden. With high school coming up, you figured it would only be a matter of time before you convinced yourself to move on from this little crush.

How wrong you were.

You had played volleyball on your middle school's team but decided to quit after sustaining a mildly serious leg injury in the summer before high school that kept you off the court. You loved the sport, but not enough to risk hurting yourself again, and maybe you wanted to explore other activities (you had been eyeing the baking club flyers).

At first, it seemed like high school would cause you to grow apart from the twins, especially since you decided to stop playing volleyball. However, Atsumu and Osamu had practically dragged you to the gym on the first day of school, announcing that you had volunteered to be the club’s manager (you hadn't) and the rest is history.

Looking back, you’re grateful for their rash actions because the volleyball team had become your second family. You love each and every one of the boys you’ve grown close to over your years as manager with every fiber of your being. From Kita and Aran, who you hold great respect for (and they adore you in return), to Akagi and Omimi, who would treat you to food whenever they wanted to feel like good senpais, to Ginjima and Suna, who you always had fun joking and playing around with, and of course the Miya twins, who you've been stuck with since you were little kids.

You also genuinely enjoyed your role as manager; volleyball was always a part of your life growing up (a given since you grew up with the Miya twins) and staying with the sport ended up being a positive experience. But of course, there were times you wished you at least had a chance to try and get over Atsumu.

You weren't in the same classes as him throughout high school, but every time you would walk into the gym for practice, Atsumu would greet you with a bone-crushing hug and lift you off your feet before twirling you around — an action that never failed to make your heart start racing and remind you of how bad you have it for him.

When Osamu found out about your crush on Atsumu, he never let you live it down, teasing and poking fun at you like the little shit he is. You thought he had made it painfully obvious to his brother, but you're pretty sure he never directly exposed you. Osamu's strange like that. Yet, despite all the nudges and raised eyebrows from Osamu, Atsumu never seemed to mind your obvious crush, or even notice it — what a complete blockhead.

You couldn't help yourself, either. Not only did this boy have the looks, with his tall, sturdy stature, warm chocolate eyes, and a soft-looking undercut that all girls would die to run their hands through (which he dyed piss-yellow in high school, something that you made fun of him for weeks until you realized one day how good it actually looks on him and you shut up quickly), but at least to you, he always gave the best of himself.

Sure, to other people (and still occasionally to you) he was (and is) an inconsiderate asshole without a filter, but you knew he truly did (and does) care for you. It was always the little things — bringing you your favorite baked goods when you're sad, trying to help you with homework even when he's just as clueless, sticking around to put away the volleyballs and close up the gym with you at the end of practice — that he did to show he really does care, that made you fall harder and harder every day.

When you graduated from high school, you planned to attend a university in Tokyo. Atsumu had told you of his goals to go pro in volleyball, and he, too, chose a school in Tokyo to continue his training there. Once again, just when you thought you'd have time to get over your crush on Atsumu, now you had become his only close friend from high school in the area, since Osamu had decided to attend a university in Hyogo.

The two of you grew even closer in the few years you've spent in Tokyo. You used to meet up every day after class to hang out in the library or at a cafe, just like your time in high school. Except this time, it was just you and him — no Osamu, no Inarizaki Volleyball Club, or anyone else.

To say you didn't fall for him even harder would be a complete lie. At times, you liked to indulge in the thought that maybe he liked you back. It was just those moments when he would hug you a little too tight, or when he would lean down to nuzzle your neck when the two of you lay together on your couch with a movie playing in the background, or when he would kiss your forehead and his lips lingered for a few seconds more.

And yet, he was, at the same time, unattainable.

Being a hotshot student athlete with a strong, muscular build and a frustratingly handsome face to match, he had more than his fair share of romantic attention. Of course you didn't mind, though, or at least, you tried not to. After all, you were just his best friend, and you've spent your entire life being nothing more than that... why should you start thinking that you couldn't survive that way, now? He has his life and you have yours.

When Atsumu passed the Black Jackals tryouts, you were the first person he told. He had called you immediately, practically brimming with excitement as he revealed the great news. The two of you were ecstatic about his achievement and celebrated with a pizza and movie night to boot.

Since then, though, he's been much busier. You hardly ever see him anymore. Atsumu's busy schedules filled with practices and games made it difficult for your free times to align, especially with you being in your last year of university and constantly studying your ass off.

Above all, you love Atsumu as a friend. You never want to lose this friendship that’s been built across so many years because of some stupid romantic feelings that you’re sure will go away eventually (it’s been like ten years since they’ve appeared but you don’t like to think about that). But this unconditional love you have for him gets you into trouble. A lot.

You had been peacefully sleeping after a long day of boring lectures, piles of homework, and countless hours of poring over textbooks for upcoming exams.

...That is, until your phone rings, obnoxiously loudly as a matter of fact, with a call from none other than Bokuto Koutarou himself.

You shoot up from bed in shock, your heart pounding wildly from the startling sound before your mood immediately sours.

You has given Bokuto your phone number during that one training camp in high school when he, Akaashi Keiji, Atsumu, Osamu, and you decided to sneak out of the dorms to get ice cream at 2 AM. Your coaches were not happy when the five of you were caught trying to get back into your dorms undetected. When you learned that Bokuto was one of Atsumu's new teammates on the Jackals, you were pleasantly surprised to see him again. He truly is a good guy. Bokuto still occasionally texts you memes and stupid shit he finds on social media, but he hardly ever calls you.

Bokuto calling you on a Saturday at 4 AM, the butt-crack-of-dawn, can only mean one thing — Miya Atsumu, your best friend, had done some stupid shit.

“Hello?” you snap into the phone, an exasperated expression already marring your features.

“Hey hey hey, (Y/N)-chan!” comes Bokuto’s enthusiastic, booming voice, which makes you cringe slightly at its contrast with the silent darkness of your bedroom. “Uhh, I’m in front of your apartment building. With Tsum-Tsum.” You can’t help but crack a small smile at the silly nickname he has for Atsumu.

“What happened this time?” you question dryly, already dragging yourself out from underneath your warm covers to grab your jacket and keys.

“We went out for drinks after practice, and uh... He kinda got shit-faced drunk,” Bokuto responds cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a pained moan in the background, one that you can assume belongs to none other than Atsumu himself. “And we couldn’t find his apartment keys, so we thought we’d bring him to your place.”

“And why my place?” you mumble irritably as you leave your apartment, not bothering to hide your annoyed grumbles since your roommate, Mika, is spending the night with her boyfriend.

“Aren’t you his girlfriend?” Bokuto quips plainly. You nearly choke on your own spit, almost slamming headfirst into the wall when you trip over the flimsy material of your Hello Kitty slippers on your way to the elevator.

“No!” you exclaim, your voice bouncing off the hallways of your apartment building, echoing embarrassingly loud. You clap a hand over your mouth, as if that’s supposed to help, before sheepishly pressing the ‘Down’ arrow for the elevator. “....He’s not my boyfriend, Kou. We’re just friends.”

“Really?” Bokuto sounds genuinely puzzled. “But Tsum-Tsum has been— “

“Bokkun~” you hear Atsumu’s sleepy, intoxicated voice from the other end of the line. “Izzat (Y/N)?” Before Bokuto can answer, you hear slight scuffling and a noise of protest, as Atsumu, presumably, snatches Bokuto’s phone.

“Tsum Tsum, what are you doi— “

“Gimme jus’ a sec, Bokkun,” he slurs reassuringly. There’s a few seconds of silence and some fumbling, and you can’t help but be slightly amused by this exchange. The elevator doors open, and you step in, waiting for Atsumu to speak. “Hey (Y/N),” he drags out your name. “Are ya listenin’?”

“Yes ‘Tsumu. I’m here.” You roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see it.

“Good.” You can vividly imagine the dopey smile that’s probably painted on his face right now. “Yer comin’ to get me, yeah?”

“Just arrived in the lobby,” you respond mildly as the elevator dings, signaling that you’ve arrived at your desired floor.

“Good,” he says again. “’Cuz I loveeeee yaaaaaaa— “ Atsumu’s cut off by Bokuto pulling the phone away from him.

“Hurry up and take him away from me already, (Y/N)-chan,” Bokuto pleads playfully, earning an indignant ‘Hey!’ from Atsumu.

“I’m here,” you reply with a sigh before hanging up. As soon as you step out the front entrance of your apartment building, you’re engulfed by a large, heavy body that practically squeezes the life out of you.

“(Y/N)!” Atsumu exclaims happily, literally crushing you against his chest while you wheeze in pain.

“’Tsumu—you big lug—get off—me—“ you gasp out between breaths as Atsumu begins to nuzzle his cheek in your hair. It’s an action that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. Your heart flips upside down in your chest, but you quickly cover your flustered state by ducking your head down and away from the scrutinizing gaze of Bokuto.

“You two really aren’t dating, (Y/N)-chan?" Bokuto asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

"No, we're not," you insist through the limited amount of air in your lungs, courtesy of the dumbass you call your best friend. Bokuto doesn't look too convinced.

"...Alright then," he concedes after a moment with a nonchalant shrug and a grin. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Bye, Kou," you call after Bokuto as he makes his way over to his car. He waves happily in response.

"(Y/N)... ya smell good... like strawberries..." Atsumu’s nose is digging into your hair, inhaling the fruity scent of your shampoo. He had thankfully loosened his grip on you so you can actually breathe, but he still has his long and muscular arms wrapped tightly around you. You fight back the urge to hug him right back (you feel an irreplaceable sense of safety in his embrace) and instead place a hand against his broad chest and push him away. He gives you a look that resembles a puppy that’s been kicked.

"Come on, asshole. Let's get you showered and in bed. You stink." The smell of cheap beer and wing sauce covers Atsumu's usual comforting, musky scent, one that you had grown to love over the many years that you've known each other. Of course, you wouldn't admit it to his face; he'd never let you live it down.

"Lemme hug yaaaaa," he slurs out, reaching for you again but you dodge his arms, and instead grab the sleeve of his hoodie to start dragging him into your apartment building. He whines loudly with each and every step, and you're pretty sure he's woken up every single person in the building by now.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, Atsumu starts to absentmindedly mumble to himself, pausing every few moments to stare at you, blinking owlishly before breaking eye contact and resume his rambling.

How much did he drink? Damn. Atsumu's not the type to get drunk easily. Being such a tall and muscular person who's been drinking since his high school days (at karaoke bars, where you and your other high school friends had the lovely experience of hearing a tipsy Atsumu sing), it's uncommon for him to get this wasted.

"Come on, loser." You haul him into your apartment, still leading him by his sleeve. You make sure he kicks off his shoes; Mika, who's a clean freak, would not appreciate any dirt tracks inside the apartment. You have him sit on your couch. Atsumu says nothing, bringing his long legs up to his chest and resting the soles of his feet on the couch, tucking his chin in the crook between his knees. He continues to gaze at you dreamily, as if in a trance.

"Yer real pretty, (Y/N)," he tells you with a dorky grin.

"'Tsumu, you're drunk. Stop spouting nonsense." You quickly turn around to hide the blush on your face. You've never dealt with Atsumu in this state alone before. Sure, he's been slightly intoxicated in your presence, but it was always with a group. You hate how much his flirtatious words are having an effect on you, especially since he's drunk for god's sake.

You grab him a glass of water, making sure that he doesn't drop the cup or spill on your couch; you don't want to be killed by Mika. He gulps the water down eagerly, his chocolate eyes never leaving yours, and you shift awkwardly at the odd intensity.

Atsumu briefly breaks eye contact to run his gaze down your pajama-clad body, and you're pretty sure you hear a low, appreciative hum rumble from the back of his throat. You're wearing an old t-shirt that reaches your mid-thigh with a pair of stretchy black shorts hidden underneath, and while it isn't the most modest outfit, you're comfortable and that's all that matters. But you suddenly feel naked under his heated stare and want to pile on a million layers so you can escape from the breathless feeling in your chest as Atsumu, for lack of better words, undresses you with his eyes.

He lingers a little too long on your exposed legs, shamelessly drinking in the smooth, soft skin of your thighs, but before you can drag something intelligent out of your vocal cords, Atsumu snaps his eyes up to look directly at you again. You can't miss the way his teeth dig shallowly into his bottom lip as he unabashedly stares at you with his hooded, lazy gaze. You instinctively take a few steps back, your heart hammering in your chest.

"W-wait here. I'll run a bath for y-you," you stammer out. You take the chance to get away from Atsumu's unwavering stare, as your entire body is starting to heat up in embarrassment.

He had never looked at you that way before.

Still, you can't believe that you're letting yourself get psyched out over him just looking at you. Chill out, (Y/N). He's acting weird because he's drunk.

You quickly make your way to the bathroom and turn on the water. While waiting for the tub to fill, you rummage through your closet to find a spare blanket before grabbing an extra pillow off your own bed for Atsumu. When you walk back out into the living room, Atsumu is still in the same position that you left him in, curled into a ball. He watches you curiously as you toss the blanket and pillow onto the couch next to him.

"Those are for you." Atsumu shoots you an offended look.

"(Y/N), ya can't expect me ta sleep on the couch, can ya?!" he exclaims incredulously. You consider his words for a moment. True, with how tall this jerkwad is, his knees would probably be hanging off the couch. It would certainly be uncomfortable for him.

"You're right. You can take my bed for the night, I'll sleep on the couch," you decide as the alternative option, but Atsumu lets out a whine of protest. You refrain from rolling your eyes.

"Ya don't hafta do that, (Y/N)!" he whines. "Why don't we just sleep together in yer bed?"

Your heart skips a beat and your cheeks flush before you can stop them.

"Sh-shut up, idiot!" you grit out.

"Oh?" Atsumu chuckles, smiling oh-so-casually. "Ya seem like you'd like that, though." You glare at him until he wilts slightly. You shake your head, exasperated.

"God, how and why did you get so wasted?" Sighing as you turn away from him once more, you go and check on the bath you’re preparing for the intoxicated dumbass. Atsumu, being the way he is, has messed with you before, with offhanded comments perfectly aiming to throw you off-guard. But it was never like this. He never crossed the line between friendship and something more.

You hate the part of you that desperately wants to accept and actively seek out that 'something more'.

You dump some bubble bath formula into the water and watch it foam and rise to the surface. It's truly like you're taking care of a child, making a bubble bath for him, of all things. What should you do next, get him some rubber duckies? You briefly wonder what drunk Atsumu would do if you dropped in a rubber duck. Chaos or friendship between Atsumu and the duck; no in between.

“'Tsumu, get in here. Your bath is ready," you call to him, switching off the tap. You hear him shuffle his body off the couch, his heavy footsteps approaching the bathroom slowly and unevenly. He pokes his head into the bathroom, his eyes drooping with exhaustion.

"Do I hafta take a bath?" he grumbles. "Jus' wanna sleep."

"You smell gross. I don't want Mika to throw a fit if our apartment smells like beer tomorrow," you insist, pointing at the tub.

"Hmph." Atsumu does not argue further, so you step out of the room to let him get undressed. You leave the door open a crack just in case he needs something. And low and behold, not fifteen seconds after you leave, you hear Atsumu whine, "(Y/N)! I caffn'th taffke my shirrrt off." You exhale an exhausted breath before peeking inside the bathroom.

Atsumu has his arms and head tangled in his shirt, half of his face sticking out of one of the armholes and his arms caught in some kind of bizarre knot above his head.

"Heeurlpp," comes his garbled request for your assistance. You sigh, helping the idiot pull off his shirt. You do your best not to stare at his upper body, but how could you not? Sure, he had already been well-defined and strong in his high school days, but compared to now, he might as well have been scrawny.

How the hell does someone get their abs to look that good? Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. You haven't seen Atsumu shirtless in years, not since that one pool party that the two of you had gone to in your first year of university. Since going pro, his build had seemed to grow even more glorious, from the perfect outlines of his pecs to the chiseled lines of his abs to the defined muscles in his arms.

It's taking every single part of you not to swoon, and you despise yourself for this.

"Enjoyin' the view?" Atsumu has the audacity to say, giving you an obnoxious, lopsided smirk.

"I've seen better," you shoot back immediately, which causes the smile on his face to instantly drop.

"Who?" he cries out, clearly irritated, but you don't give him the time of day. Truthfully, you haven't seen someone better. But you won't give him the satisfaction of knowing this fact.

"That's irrelevant, finish getting undressed. I am not helping with your pants." The two of you simultaneously look down to where a belt buckle holds his jeans up. He helplessly fumbles with it for a bit, before glancing up at you desperately. You huff.

"Pleaseeee (Y/N)," he whines.

"You can't even take off your own belt?" you grumble.

"Pleaseeee," he repeats, his large hands reaching out to bring you into a tight hug.

"Okay, okay," you wheeze. You're internally screaming as the hard muscles on his arms and upper body press against you. "Let me go first, idiot." Atsumu happily complies, beaming his pearly-white teeth at you before letting you help him with his belt.

You unbuckle Atsumu's belt as quickly as you can, avoiding contact with his body and not daring to meet the heated gaze that's practically burning into the top of your head. You swear you hear him inhale sharply when you accidentally brush your hand against his thigh. When you finally find it in you to look up at him, he's running his tongue over his lips, making those damn bedroom eyes again. Your entire being is in fight or flight mode; oh God, why does it look like he wants to devour you?

"C-can you handle the rest yourself?" you say shakily after successfully undoing his belt, backing away ungraciously and nearly tripping over your own feet. Atsumu nods, the strange, intense look still on his face unnerving you to the core. You want to scream and cry and dig a hole and hide in it forever; why does this man have to have such an effect on you? "Okay, I'll be just outside if you need me."

"...Will ya help me wash my hair?" he asks rather meekly, just as you're about the shut the door. You crack it open a little to provide your answer.

"Yeah. Sure." A small, giddy smile spreads across Atsumu's lips like he's a kid who was just given candy.

"’kay." He then proceeds to pull down both his pants and boxers in one fell swoop, causing you to let out a shriek and quickly turn around, hands over your eyes.

You immediately feel stupid for reacting this way; you must seem immature as hell. But then you remember that Atsumu is still intoxicated and probably won't remember any of this in the morning, and you breathe a little.

You don't move until you hear the splash of water, signaling that Atsumu had successfully got himself into your bathtub. Cautiously, you peek into the bathroom and see him staring right back at you, an expectant look on his face.

"C'mere already," he grumbles, pouting. "Yer actin' like you've never seen a naked man before."

You frown slightly, shifting uncomfortably as you sit on the edge of the tub and grab the shampoo bottle from its place on the rack.

"Whatever," is the best you can come up with, lathering the shampoo into his hair.

"Wait, don't tell me." He goes still for a moment, and you hum in response, beginning to massage the liquid into his scalp. "Yer a virgin?"

"Didn't say that, 'Tsumu," you reply, keeping your voice steady as possible even though your internal instincts were freaking out. In your decade and a half together, you've never talked about these things with Atsumu.

"You are, aren't ya?" You don't reply, suddenly way too focused on the blonde locks of his hair swallowed in bubbles from the shampoo. "(Y/N)." He jerks back, glaring at you with his thick eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. You hold back a laugh; he looks anything but intimidating with a head full of bubbles and some stray foam on his cheek. "Answer me."

"What's it to you?" you continue to maintain your cool, bringing his head back towards you and continuing to wash out his hair.

"Dunno." He continues to scowl. "Who was your first, then?" You're quiet. "So yer a virgin."

"Yes, I am. Don't see how this is important, dumbass."

"Yer twenty-three."

"So?" You arch an eyebrow.

"Yer twenty-three," he emphasizes. "And you've never gotten laid." You stiffen, pursing your lips. You were surrounded by intimidating volleyball players for most of your high school life so any boy that ever had the desire to get close to you was promptly chased off. When you had gone to university, you never had any intention to lose your virginity, being more focused on your studies and your job at the local bakery. Frankly, you don't think your lack of 'getting laid' is a huge deal, but the way Atsumu seems to be addressing the topic now makes it seem like some kind of crime.

"Okay, and?"

"I could be yer first," he says suddenly, and you almost topple over into the bathtub in surprise.

"Wh-what?" you stutter, you fingers clenching a little too tightly on Atsumu's hair, causing him to yelp.

"...I said," he repeats as you steady yourself again. "I could be yer first."

"Haha. Real funny." Your tone is nonchalant but you feel like you're about to implode from the mess of feelings brewing deep in your stomach.

"I'd take care of ya," Atsumu continues, his eyes slowly darkening again. "Make ya feel real good." You let out a noise that's an unholy combination of a scream and a squeal.

"But then you'd leave me, 'Tsumu. Like you do to everyone else." You're about to rinse his hair now; you're doing your best to keep calm and focus on the task at hand.

"I'd never leave ya." He's still sleepily slurring out his words, but you almost want to believe the note of earnesty in his voice. "Yer my forever, (Y/N)." You laugh nervously; you really think you're about to go into cardiac arrest because your heart hasn't stopped racing since the moment he stepped into your apartment.

"You seem to be getting a lot more sober, 'Tsumu. I think I'll leave you to finish washing yourself." As soon as you stand up from your seat, Atsumu splashes around in protest, his arms waving wildly, and ends up soaking and covering you in bubbles from head-to-toe.

"No!" he whines, while you groan in a mixture of disgust and defeat as the water and foam drips down the front of the ratty old t-shirt you wear to bed.

"Great," you grumble to yourself. "Thanks a lot, asshat." Despite your venomous tone, Atsumu seems rather pleased with himself when you sit back down and continue to card your fingers through his soapy hair. "I hate you."

"You love me~" he sing-songs obnoxiously. You don't reply, not wanting to accidentally hint at how much those words actually ring true. "Yer so cute, (Y/N). Aren't I lucky ta have such a cute and carin' best friend?"

You merely scoff. When he's sober he's usually insulting you, so the compliments almost throw you off.

You know you're so weak for this man; this definitely isn't the first time you've bailed him out of a questionable situation. You know he means no harm in any way, and you know that he truly does appreciate you, and you know that you should really just get it through your thick skull that you'll never be anything more than a friend. But still, a tiny part of you longs for more. No matter how many times you've tried to squash that little voice in your head begging to be closer to him, it never went away, and this point, you're wondering if it ever will.

You swear this boy is going to be the death of you.

-

next part • masterlist

[joseeapologist]

Jacsee and their kids HCs: [this is lengthy]

I think they would have three children. The eldest being a boy, the middle child being a girl, and the youngest being a boy. Their names in order - Theo, Juliette, and Oliver.

Theo was born around late 2014 to early 2015, several months after Josee and Jacques’ win in the Sochi olympics (Jacques proposed to Josee right after their win and got married a few months later). Juliette was born in 2016, and Oliver was born in 2020.

I envision a scenario in which MacArthur and Sanders were there for the birth of their first child, because contrary to popular belief, I think the Cadets and Ice Dancers can get along after RR.

Just imagine them chilling and then Josee’s water breaks and everyone is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT except Josee who is just standing at the door waiting while Jacques is running around like a chicken with no head.

“JOZAY THE BABY IS COMING! DID WE PACK THE TOOTHBRUSH?!”

“Newborns don’t have teeth.”

Anyway they get into the Cadets cop car and rush to the hospital.

Theo is born, and he’s the spitting image of his father. The first thing MacArthur said, “Well at least we know he’s yours.” 

Neither Josee and Jacques found this amusing.

They thought Theo was going to be exactly like Jacques until it turns out that Theo expressed his desire to go into hockey. This shocked Josee and Jacques, but shrugged and let him get into it. Jacques’ father was extremely pleased though.

Josee constantly worries Theo will break bones in his body, because hey, she knows that feeling.

Theo became goth in middle school. Josee and Jacques desperately tried to talk him out of it but he wanted the look so badly that they couldn’t say no.

Josee and Jacques called up the Goths (yes, I think they could be friends too) to help him with his new look. 

Josee and Jacques watched with tears in their eyes as Crimson and Ennui dyed Theo’s blonde locks black, but ofc they support and love him and would throw hands if anyone made fun of him.

Josee and Jacques have to yell at Theo for playing his music so damn loud.

Juliette is the middle child, and she has Jacques’ blonde hair but Josee’s spirit and temper. Josee is constantly worried that she’ll be like her own mother to Juliette because at this point in her life she realized how toxic her mother was.

She’s into figure skating like her mother, which Josee is both happy and terrified of. Josee refuses to coach her own daughter out of fear; she’s afraid of being too critical, but supports her daughter 100%.

Juliette is such a daddy’s girl; Jacques has trouble saying no to her and will get her anything she wants (Kind of like Angelica Pickles from Rugrats, but Juliette isn’t really a brat, just very spoiled)

Which is awful sometimes because this puts Josee in the disciplinarian position of having to say no and Josee is already afraid enough as it is of turning into her mother.

Oliver is the youngest, and he’s into skiing and skateboarding. He likes skating and hockey too, just not to the extent of his siblings.

He has his father’s clumsiness, oh my god...

The amount of injuries this kid has had. Josee and Jacques are mortified. 

But because he is the youngest, he is pretty much the most spoiled. All of the Jacsee kids are spoiled, but Oliver is definitely the most spoiled.

Oliver, like his father, loves wearing dresses. And like his mother, Oliver also has a good luck charm, except in the form of a Four-Leaf clover.

Tom and Jen are the gay uncle and lesbian aunt duo, and they are listed as Theo, Oliver, and Juliette’s emergency contacts when Josee and Jacques can’t pick them up from school (The Cadets follow shortly after)

Unfortunately Tom and Jen would sometimes break them out of school for shopping sprees.

Josee and Jacques are not amused.

MacArthur (and reluctantly Sanders) sometimes do the same thing.

[magniloquent-raven]

See What This is Worth

Harringrove Week of Love: Day 4

Teacher AU || School Dance

Rated: T

Read on Ao3

Billy is not, by nature, the kind of person who likes to be overly helpful. He doesn’t go out of his way for people he doesn’t know. He’s not especially charitable. 

And yet here he is, taking time out of his Friday night, setting up tables and supervising idiots with no upper body strength who think they can move a whole stack of chairs on their own. He has better things to do than hang out at work and chaperone a bunch of middle-schoolers trying to score their first kiss to some truly grating top 40 shit. 

He didn’t even like school dances when he was a student. As a middle-schooler he was too fucking terrified that some girl might ask him to dance, so he just never went. And in high school...well. He ended up more the type to get high in the parking lot and ditch with whatever chick was too drunk to notice he didn’t put out. 

There was never a boy he liked well enough to do this shit with. Get dressed up and pretend not to want to dance and get flustered when he so much as touches a hand. No one in school was worth suffering through this shit for. 

Until now, unfortunately.

He’s a grown-ass man and somehow feels like a dumb, lovestruck teen and it’s all Steve Harrington’s fault.

Him and his fucking face, and his ass, and his looking unfairly good in a suit. 

He looks good in his stupid dorky khakis and paint-splattered apron too, but holy shit Billy never really got the phrase cleans up nice until he saw Steve in formal wear. His hair all combed neatly for once, wearing a blazer and slacks that have clearly been tailored. 

Billy is seriously considering sending a thank you note to whatever tailor Steve visits, because they are very good at their job. 

Good enough that Billy’s spending half his goddamn time staring at Steve’s ass instead of setting up. He’s bossing some volunteers around, gesturing animatedly about crepe paper and streamers and it’s so distractingly endearing that Billy kind of forgets he’s supposed to be doing anything other than watch Steve work.

And he gets caught. Steve turns, spots Billy staring. Scowls. Which is kind of his default expression when looking at Billy. 

As much as Billy secretly wants to have Steve look at him like he can actually stand spending more than five minutes in the same room, the irritated frown kind of suits Steve. It’s cute. And when he gets pissed it’s hot. His eyes get all intense, mouth set in a firm line and Billy may or may not have had a fantasy or two about Steve making that exact face right before absolutely destroying his ass, so...Steve might not like him, but Billy’s dealing. 

By being annoying, but still. 

He wiggles his fingers in a sarcastic little wave, leaning a little more pointedly. He’s been lounging against the wall for way too long, his shoulder is going numb, but he’s not about to scramble to look like he’s doing something just because Steve spotted him.

Steve’s shoulders heave as he sighs, eyes rolling skyward. He hands his clipboard to the nearest volunteer, whispering something before turning on his heel and marching over. 

Billy’s inspecting his nails when Steve reaches him. Stops a few paces away and folds his arms. 

“Something I can do for you, Harrington?” He knows the bored tone gets to Steve, so he plays it up.

“Yeah. You were supposed to be helping Nancy put chairs out. You know, the thing you signed up for?” There’s still an edge to that statement, has been since Billy walked into the first committee meeting with a big, shit-eating grin and Steve glared at him looking like he was about to pop a blood vessel. He always says it all accusatory, like he’s not sure Billy even did sign up, and he’s just hanging around to be a nuisance.

Which, he is, but he’s doing it officially. 

Has his little chaperone badge and everything. It’s pinned to his jacket, which he isn’t actually wearing, but he has it. 

“Got tired,” Billy says with a dramatic weariness, head lolling to the side, rolling back against the wall. He looks up at Steve through his eyelashes. “I’m allowed to take a break aren’t I?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hargrove, you’re telling me moving flimsy plastic chairs tired you out? You’re built like a brick wall.” He puts his hands on his hips and gets the same look he gets when his students start throwing clay around. 

“Are you objectifying me?” Billy puts a hand on his chest with mock-offence, the corners of his mouth turning upward with genuine delight. His grin brightens when Steve’s cheeks flush, gaze darting away, the annoyance flagging a little, replaced with something else for just a moment.

“I’m stating a fact. In a completely...imparted way.”

“Think you mean ‘impartial’.” 

The flush darkens, a splotchy red instead of the petal pink he was a moment ago, and his mouth twists. “Whatever,” he mutters. “You’ve been standing here for like ten minutes, man, get back to work.”

He stalks off in a huff, leaving Billy wondering how the hell Steve knew how long he’d been slacking off for.

Then again, he is in charge, so. He’s probably keeping tabs on everyone. At least that’s what Billy has to tell himself so the butterflies in his stomach don’t get any ideas. 

He wanders off, back to where he was supposed to be, but Wheeler doesn’t actually need his help. She got most of the chairs in place while he was checking out her ex. He gets an impatient brush-off when he half-heartedly asks her if there’s any more work to do. 

She never did like him much. 

Not that he’s bothered, he doesn’t care for her either. She’s too snooty. Up her own ass. Self-righteous. ...and Steve’s ex. 

Rumour has it Steve’s finally over her, but Billy will believe it when he sees it, the man hasn’t been on a date since Wheeler tore his heart to shreds three years ago. 

Heather gossips, okay. She’s nosy, and her family knows Wheeler’s family, who know Steve, and word gets around. These upper class assholes never have anything better to do than talk behind each other’s backs. Especially when the only son of a wealthy family is, at 28, single and teaching snot-nosed brats how to fingerpaint. 

And Billy has a vested interest, sue him. He asks some pointed questions here and there. 

God, he’s never gotten this fucking desperate over a guy before. Pining away. Putting up with Nancy Wheeler bossing him around at meetings because he doesn’t want to piss her off too much just in case that’s the final straw for Steve. The thing that tips their rapport from not-friendly to outright hostile. 

Because for some reason the guy still gives a shit about the ex who cheated on him. Fucking martyr. 

Billy’s not sure if he’s jealous that she gets forgiven and he gets angry glares for no goddamn reason, or if he’s just flabbergasted that anyone would be that self-sacrificing. Both, maybe. It’s a little impressive, honestly. How far out of his way Steve will go to forgive people. 

Except Billy.

Who still doesn’t know what he did wrong in the first place.

Not that it bothers him. No, not at all. He’s just constantly thinking about it, and trying to hold on to every detail of the early days of their interactions so he can analyze those moments for clues, and sometimes lying awake at night wondering if he’s just fundamentally unlovable and he’s never gonna figure out what he did wrong because he just is wrong. 

He’s fine. It’s fine.

Thank god Steve is occupied for the rest of set-up. Always finding someone who isn’t Billy to boss around when he isn’t physically doing something himself. Gives Billy some room to breathe. And watch, like a weirdo.

He gets a couple weird looks from other volunteers but that’s nothing new. Wheeler glaring at him. Heather smirking. That one parent chaperone who’s here early and was making eyes at him at first, but it’s devolved into side-eye. 

He thought maybe the dance actually starting would be a distraction, but it’s just loud. He’s still constantly stealing glances at Steve. While he’s making small talk. While he’s repinning some streamers that got knocked loose. He looks gorgeous, even under the harsh fluorescent lighting of a school gym, and Billy really wishes he had a flask on him right now.

Yelling at some rowdy kids doesn’t help either. Just earns him a dirty look from that one overprotective chaperone mom. No one asked you, lady, the kid was bouncing around like an over-caffeinated gerbil, someone was gonna get hurt. It’s Billy’s job to break that shit up.

He needs a smoke. This is unbearable.

Slipping out of the gym unnoticed is easier than he thought it would be. No one seems to give a shit that he’s sidling out, which is a little insulting, honestly. But useful.

The hallways are quiet. Empty. It’s always a little creepy being here at night. The squeak of his boots on the linoleum, the artificial white light keeping the nighttime gloom out, it always feels a little dream-like. Nightmarish maybe. Liminal. 

He props the door open on his way out, with a chair he lifted from a nearby classroom. The last thing he needs is to get locked out. Embarrassing. He’d probably just leave, but then he’d get chewed out for ditching.

He sighs, turning his face skyward for a moment to breathe before he lights up.

The cool air is a relief after being cooped up with so many rambunctious pre-teens. Billy’s still not a fan of Indiana weather, and he probably never will be, but anything is better than being in there another goddamn second. 

This was a terrible idea. It was barely an idea. An impulse decision that got his ass stuck babysitting on a Friday night just so he could spend more time staring at Steve. 

Pathetic. 

Maybe he should just ditch right now. 

He’s weighing the pros and cons when a familiar voice cuts into his contemplation.

“Hargrove, where the hell did you—” Steve’s face appears when he pokes his head out the cracked-open door. His pinchy annoyed face. He wrinkles his nose when he spots Billy, and the cigarette in his hand. “Seriously?”

Billy shrugs. Puts the cigarette between his lips and takes a pointed drag, cheeks hollowing.

Steve, who was trying to sidle out past the chair, trips. The chair clatters to the ground, Steve stumbling in the opposite direction, arms out and flailing. 

The door slams shut behind him.

Billy gapes, incredulous gaze flicking between Steve, frozen in place, and the closed door. “Seriously?”

“...Shit. I—” Steve grimaces. Runs a hand through his hair, tousling his neatly combed locks. “You have your key, right?”

The glare Billy levels at him is positively icy. “Yeah, no, of course I do, the chair was there for fun. I wasn’t worried about being locked out at all.” 

“Okay, okay, Jesus. You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“Don’t I?” It comes out far more bitterly than intended. Steve stares at him.

“No? What kind of—” he huffs, loud, frustrated, “What the fuck is your deal, Hargrove?”

Well. That’s a layered question. One he isn’t going to answer even a little bit. He scoffs instead, turning away and taking another angry pull off his cigarette. It warms him but does nothing for the pit in his stomach.

They stand there in silence for a beat. The muffled noise from inside is muted, distant. 

“Fine, whatever,” Steve mutters. “I just don’t get why you hate me so much.”

And he sounds hurt. He sounds sad, and it throws Billy for a loop. Knocks him down a little. But then his chest gets tight, his heart flip-flopping around in the clutches of something caustic and resentful.

He flicks ash in Steve’s direction with an emphatic gesture, a petty vindictiveness. “You’re kidding, right?” he snaps. Steve’s jaw drops, just for a second, surprise passing over his face, before his expression hardens, his mouth snaps shut, jaw clenching.

“Alright, fine, I get it, what’s not to hate.” He clutches his elbows, not quite folding his arms. It looks more like he’s hugging himself. “Good talk.” 

Billy squints at him. The tense line of his shoulders, the way he can’t quite meet Billy’s eye. He’s struck with the absurd urge to pull Steve into his arms. The impulse just pisses him off more. “You know what, princess, you get what you give, alright? You can’t treat someone like shit from the jump and then get mad when they don’t want to be your best fucking friend. Fuck you.” 

“What? I never—”

“Oh, you never? You never asked Heather why she ‘puts up with such an asshole’?” He tosses his hands in the air, air quoting around the phrase, and takes a step towards Steve. “The day after we met? And you never talked over me at my first staff meeting, right? You would never.” Another step. He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t do it on purpose, but he ends up standing inches from Steve. The cold air mists their breath, and it mingles in one seething cloud between them. “You’ve been treating me like the dirt under your shoe since I got here, Harrington, don’t you dare act like you haven’t.”

Steve sets his jaw, a stubborn tilt to his chin. “You were an asshole. I still don’t get why she puts up with you!”

Billy grinds his teeth. He’s asked Heather that himself. With varying degrees of seriousness. It stings hearing it from someone else. 

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be people pleasers,” he spits, hands clenching into fists at his side. To channel his anger, more than anything else. He isn’t seventeen anymore, he can’t just start throwing punches at a co-worker. 

His nails bite into the skin of his palm, sweat stinging the shallow scrapes, and his hands tremble, itch. 

“I’m not—you know what, I’m not doing this with you.” He steps back. Just like that. Like it’s that easy to walk away. Like none of this matters to him, and he’s just...venting frustrations that have nothing to do with Billy. Because Billy doesn’t matter to him. This is about getting locked out of his own stupid party. Or Wheeler saying something bitchy maybe. Or any number of things going on in his life that Billy doesn’t know about because he’s not a part of it. 

And the tumbling, tangling web of twisting thoughts wrap around each other ‘til none of them make sense, ‘til he doesn’t know what he’s upset about he’s just gutted, just standing there in the cold staring at Steve, his eyes stinging and his toes going numb because he didn’t wear his good socks today.

He shouldn’t give a shit about this either, but he does. 

Story of his fucking life, apparently.

Steve’s gaze wanders, looking for what, Billy doesn’t know, but his profile lit up by a dirty streetlamp has got to be the most beautiful fucking thing Billy’s ever seen. He wants to kiss Steve so badly it hurts. 

And he hates that he still does, even when he’s angry. Even bitter and hurting he still wants. 

He flicks his cigarette butt away and shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“The fuck are you looking for, Harrington,” he asks flatly, as Steve cranes his neck peering around the building. 

Steve shoots him a glare. “Trying to remember if any of the doors got left unlocked.” He shivers violently, and sticks his hands in his armpits. “It’s freezing out here, in case you didn’t notice, and I’m not really into the idea of frostbite, so.”

“What, Mr.Born-and-raised-in-Indiana can’t handle a little snow?” Billy sneers. It’s petty, he knows. It’s not fair. Because Steve is out here in a dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, dressed to be in a sweaty, crowded gymnasium. Billy at least grabbed his jacket before he came out here, knowing he was going to be a while, and he’s still clenching his jaw against the urge to let his teeth chatter. 

The look that earns him is withering, though it’s undercut slightly by the awkward way Steve shuffles his arms around, trying to unroll his sleeves without exposing his fingers to the cold. 

Billy rolls his eyes. “Forget it, pretty boy, Wheeler made her boytoy check all the doors before the dance started. Either wait ‘til someone notices you’re gone or break a window.” 

“Great,” Steve mutters, and shudders again. 

“Why do you still talk to her, anyways?” He tries for casual and misses by a mile. Steve’s eyebrows shoot upwards and Billy tries again. “Just making conversation. We could be out here a while.”

“And that was what you—whatever. She and I are friends. Why wouldn’t I talk to her.”

“C’mon,” Billy scoffs, “Plenty of reasons. You still hung up on her or something? Hangin’ around hoping for another shot?”

“Definitely not.”

It shouldn’t make Billy’s heart leap but it does. Just because he’s not still sniffing around after Wheeler’s granny panties anymore doesn’t mean he has any interest in Billy. “Really now.”

“Yes, really, Jesus Christ. Why do you care.” 

“I don’t.” Billy lies, and looks away, affecting disinterest. He sniffs. “It’s just weird, is all. I sure as shit wouldn’t hang around someone after they cheated on me.”

Steve is staring. Billy can feel his gaze boring into the side of his head. He glances out of the corner of his eye, watches Steve furrow his brow and frown. “It wasn’t—It was more complicated than that. I wasn’t...good. We weren’t good together.” He stops himself, biting his lip, and shakes his head. 

“Hm.” Billy chews his thumbnail. It almost feels like they’re getting somewhere, but it’s so fragile Billy’s afraid to open his mouth and ruin it. The silence stretches, filled only by Steve’s rustling shivers, and Billy’s own unsteady heartbeat. “My car keys are in my jacket pocket,” he ventures, after long enough that the silence has gotten awkward. 

“What! How long were you going to keep that to yourse—”

“Do you want to take advantage of my heater, or not.” 

“Jesus Christ, yes.”

“Alright.”

They don’t talk on the walk over. Snow crunches beneath Billy’s boots, and Steve slips a few times on patches of icy pavement. 

And Billy feels somehow nervous. Like he’s invited Steve to his goddamn bedroom or something. 

Or maybe he’s just worried this tentative peace will end with their conversation going where it always does, blowing up in his goddamn face. But they’ve never actually spent that much time alone, he has no idea how this is going to work. 

Best case scenario it ends with Steve half-dressed in the backseat of his car, but he’s not stupid enough to hope for that.

Fantasize about it, sure, but…

Steve actually being in his car is a surreal experience. Filling the small cab with his clean laundry scent, sweet and subtle, faint enough to be a tease, and he has to restrain himself from taking big embarrassing sniffs to satisfy his sudden craving for more. 

He wonders if the smell will linger. How long Steve will be a phantom presence in his space. 

Waste of time to think about it now, while he’s actually here. 

Billy distracts himself by keeping his hands busy. Fumbling with the keys in his stiff fingers. Poking the overhead button to flip on the interior light. Flicking the dials on his console. The heater’s fan drones almost as loudly as the engine. Somehow the white noise makes the silence less stressful.

Steve rubs his hands together in front of the nearest vent, hissing through his teeth. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t feel my goddamn fingers,” he mutters, the hair on his forehead flopping as he moves. 

“You weren’t out there that long,” Billy chuckles. Steve’s clumsy flailing is stupid endearing, Billy is shamelessly turned in his seat to watch him, the doorhandle digging into his spine, his knee pulled up and leaning on the seat’s backrest. 

“Oh come on, you grew up in California, how are you fine right now?” Steve groans, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. His gaze darts up and down Billy’s form before flicking away again.

It’s common knowledge where Billy is from. He doesn’t exactly hide it. There’s a goddamn Malibu postcard tacked up in his office, pictures of his old surfboard. But it still makes Billy a little giddy that Steve pays enough attention to know that. 

“I run hot,” Billy says casually, and grins, tongue between his teeth. Truth be told, he wasn’t fine, he was fucking freezing, he’s just good at hiding physical discomfort. 

Steve’s cheeks flush a little pinker, and his gaze gets suspiciously focused on the vent in front of him.

“So…” Steve licks his lips, pausing, “Uh. What was it like? California.”

Billy blinks at him. “Warmer than this shithole, for starters.” 

He feels off balance suddenly. First-date-jittery. Which is ridiculous because he’s never gotten first date jitters. And this isn’t a date. Not even close. But still, when Steve laughs quietly it gets the butterflies in Billy’s stomach far too excited. Like he’s ten and discovering the wonders of holding a boy’s hand all over again. 

“I uh. Can’t go back there.” Billy chews the inside of his cheek, watching Steve closely. 

“Why, you a wanted criminal or something?”

Billy snorts. “Glad to know you think so highly of me. No, I meant...lotta shit happened there that I’d rather not remember.”

There were good things too. More good memories in California than after they moved, but that doesn’t stop the awful shit from tainting the whole goddamn state for him. Just makes it harder that it does. 

Hard to want to go back to a place where you almost died, no matter how many times your mom took you to the beach there.

Steve meets his gaze, his eyes soft, and it punches the breath from Billy’s lungs for a second. “Yeah, I get that.” He hums, and tucks his hands between his thighs. The position makes him look oddly demure. “I, uh. Have some experience with avoiding bad memories, y’know. Doesn’t end well. Repressing that kinda shit.”

“Pff,” Billy leans his head back against the window. The cold seeps through his curls. “You sound like Kali.”

“...Who?”

“Biker boots. Side shave. ‘Bout yea tall.” Billy waves his hand around his shoulder. “You met her once. I brought her to that stupid Christmas party couple years back.”

“Oh.” Steve looks down at his lap. “Your girlfriend.”

Billy chokes on his own spit. “What?”

“...Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, no, uh. No. Not even a little bit, man,” Billy laughs a little hysterically. 

“She was your date to that party though, right? Did it not work out, or…?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, and rubs the back of his neck. Steve’s staring, all wide-eyed and confused and fucking adorable. He weighs his options. Wonders how much he should divulge. The easiest way would be to just say no, and move on. The safest way. They’re stuck out here alone and he doesn’t know how well Steve would react to finding out he’s stuck alone with a queer. 

It’s something Billy tends not to take risks on. If guys can’t figure him out on their own, he isn’t going to tell them. But in this case...he’s just annoyed that Steve hasn’t noticed yet. 

And besides, Steve spends half his time hanging around Robin Buckley—who Billy has his suspicions about—so it’s not like there’s no chance Steve would be okay with Billy being gay…

He takes a breath. Exhales slow and stares at the roof of the car. There’s a burn mark next to the rearview mirror where he might’ve stubbed out a cigarette. He’s had this damn car so long he doesn’t remember doing it.

“She’s a friend, Steve. And I borrowed her from her girlfriend that night,” he says, testing the waters. Steve blinks a little, lips parting, but doesn’t react any more than that. Doesn’t seem angry, or judgemental, or disgusted. “I’m not really ready to be out at work. So.” 

“Wait, Robin was right?” Steve blurts, sitting a little straighter, eyebrows shooting up. 

“Of course she noticed,” Billy mutters, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. He doesn’t ask why Buckley was talking to Steve about him in the first place, let alone about his sexual preferences. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“I mean, she kept going on about lesbian psychic sense, and I told her if anyone’s got a lesbian psychic sense, it’s El, not her, but—” he cuts himself off, flushing. “I, uh. Oh. Huh. Guess I shoulda listened to her when she told me my gaydar was busted.” 

Well. That’s...something. Not the reaction he was expecting. Not that he did know what to expect, but still. “Yeah, you usually need to be queer to spot one,” he shrugs. Like he hasn’t been hoping Steve would pick up on his not-so-subtle hints this whole time, while dreading the possibility with equal fervour.

But Steve freezes then. Shoulders going stiff, his hands stilling. And Billy’s heart leaps. 

“I...” Steve fidgets, his palms rubbing together as he shifts his thighs. “Um. Am. I am. I’m bi.”

“Huh...” Billy licks his lips. “Well, shit, Harrington.”

He wonders how well he pulled off cool and unbothered. It’s usually something he’s alright at, but he’s not usually reacting to the goddamn man of his dreams telling him he’s into guys. His whole chest feels like it’s gonna explode.

“Mhm…” Steve hums, staring at his own hands, his face frustratingly neutral. 

“So.” Suddenly their childish rivalry annoys Billy. When Steve was just a straight boy he was pining after it felt good to punish him for being unattainable. Be up in his space without being too obvious about why. Get him all flushed and bothered in the only way he could. But now… “Why did it take us this long to get here?” Billy asks quietly. He knows his side of the story. Knows his own stubborn asshole nature played its part. But Steve…

His anger from earlier resurfaces. Steve treating him like he wasn’t worth his time, running on a loop in his head. 

He draws his knee up, hugging it to his chest, but keeps the bitterness out of his expression. It’s too likely to end up looking like sadness on his face right now. 

Steve shrugs. “Haven’t we already been through this?” He turns to stare out the window. Billy glares at the back of his head.

“No, Steve, we haven’t. You called me an asshole and then said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“What else is there to say?”

“How ‘bout an explanation? What exactly did I do to you, pretty boy? And don’t give me that, you were a dick, bullshit, because you hated me from the jump. Way before I did anything to deserve it.” 

And he did, eventually, deserve it. He knows that. Doesn’t make the immediate brush-off feel any better. 

Steve’s back is stiff, and he’s crossed his arms. And he still won’t look at Billy.

Feels like they’re right back where they started, and Billy wants to crawl out of his own skin. He grits his teeth, and hisses, “Listen, I know you come from a family of fuckin’ bigshot lawyers or what-the-fuck-ever, but it doesn’t give you the right to treat people like dirt if they don’t—”

That, at least, gets Steve’s attention. He whips his head around, stares at Billy with his mouth open. “Is that what you think—Billy I haven’t had a real conversation with my parents in nearly ten years, I don’t give a shit about all that.” 

“Then what—”

“You make me feel dumb! Alright? Happy?”

Billy blinks at him. “What?”

Steve groans, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You—you show up here all, all hot and—” he waves a hand, gesturing up and down Billy’s body, “like that, and it was annoying enough that you knew that, strutting around like you own the place, but then you go and open your mouth and—” Steve buries his face in his hands, sighing, rubbing his eyes. “The first time I heard you talk you were explaining some shit about—about—nemo devices or something—”

“Mnemonic.”

“That! That right there, that thing you always do. I get it. Okay? You’re smarter than me. I’m just a dumb art teacher who gets headaches when he tries to read.” Steve throws himself back against the headrest, all furrowed brow and expressive hands.

And Billy stares. Frozen in place. He is, for once, at a loss for words. His mouth works soundlessly as he searches for something to say. But what falls out of him is, “You think I’m hot?” and he mentally slaps himself. 

“Really. That’s your takeaway?”

“No—no, well, I mean. Kind of. Yeah.” He wets his bottom lip. Tongues his cheek. 

Steve groans, “Seriously?” He tugs at a stray lock of hair. “No one who wears pants that tight doesn't know they’re attractive, alright, why is this surprising. I have eyes.”

“Because it’s you.” Billy’s brain slams to a halt the second he says it, shock freezing him in place. Apparently his filter is just fucking broken today, Jesus Christ.

“...What. Y’know what, fuck you, I’m not that unobservant—”

Billy snorts a disbelieving laugh, “Are you sure about that.” 

“Alright, fine, I didn’t realize you were gay, for like, a really long time, but you didn’t notice that I’m queer too, so there!” Steve looks at him, triumphant, like he’s won the argument—if that’s what this even is. And Billy scoffs, stupid, irrational competitiveness tightening like anger in his chest, and—

“It’s not the same, Harrington,” Billy says flatly, heart pounding. 

“And why not?”

“Because you haven’t been after my dick this whole time! You didn’t care if I knew that you’re queer,” he’s almost shouting, frustrated and not even sure what he’s trying to prove, arms thrown wide to punctuate his dumb and nonexistent point, until exactly what he just let slip sinks in. He lowers his hands, clenches them into fists resting on his thighs. Steve hasn’t said a word, he’s just staring, jaw slack. 

“Wait...so—”

“Don’t.” 

“But—”

“Harrington,” Billy growls.  

“Jesus Christ, Billy would you let me—”

“No.”

“I have been though!” Steve yells over him, and it stuns Billy enough that he falls silent. “Dumbass, I have been into you this whole goddamn time, are you kidding me?”

“...What.”

Steve runs restless fingers through his hair, making even more of a mess of it. “Listen, do you have any idea how irritating it was that you’re as hot as you are? I wanted to badly to hate you because you were so fucking annoying, but you were all—” he gestures to Billy, waving his hand around wildly, “like, a fucking...walking wet dream, so.”

“Gee, thanks,” Billy responds, utterly bemused. 

“And then I find out you’re a great teacher, and really smart, and kind of funny when you aren’t being a douche, and suddenly I’m head-over-heels for a guy I’m pretty sure hates me, because I have no self-respect apparently, and—” He stops, chest heaving, eyebrows drawn, and curls in on himself, folding his arms. 

“I never hated you.” 

Steve scoffs, dipping his chin ‘til his face is shadowed by his bangs.

“Listen to me,” Billy scoots forward, wedging his knee over the cupholders between their seats. He hesitates, a hand hovering mid-air while he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. And then touches Steve’s elbow. He jolts, looks up at Billy from under the fall of brown hair hanging over his forehead, his eyes are wide and questioning. Billy presses his fingertips firmer to the warmth of Steve’s skin under his starched dress shirt. “You care about your friends a ridiculous amount, it’s mind-boggling. Honestly. I grew up around people who would’ve barely given a shit if I died, and here you are worrying about everyone in your life, like it’s your fuckin’ job. You’re a good goddamn person, and I wanted…” he pauses, and bites his lip. “I was pissed that I wasn’t one of the people you cared about, alright. Fuckin’ Wheeler gets to be, but I...” He trails off, gestures vaguely.  

Steve’s fingers are cold, sneaking up from under his folded arm to touch the back of Billy’s hand. “You were. You are.” He ducks his head again, the ghost of a smile just barely visible before he disappears into shadow again. “I came out here to check on you, didn’t I?”

“I mean…I was supposed to be helping out inside—”

“Billy, there’s, like, eight volunteers in there, they can handle a bunch of middle-schoolers.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a quiet breath. “I, uh. I’m sorry. I never thought you gave a damn about my opinion, to be honest. I didn’t—I was just…”

“Insecure?”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah.” 

And that’s something Billy’s more familiar with than he’d like to be. He squeezes Steve’s forearm. “You’re not stupid, you know.”

“It’s fine, I know I am. Everybody in my life is some kinda damn genius, so. Someone had to draw the short straw.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Steve.” That gets his attention, surprised eye-contact, and Billy tilts his head to maintain it. “I don’t give a shit that your goddamn friends can speak five languages, or understand organic chem, or any of that crap, they aren’t better than you, alright, they’re just nerds.” Steve snorts, and rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin tugging at his lips and it makes Billy smile. “Look, you play guitar, right. And you taught that dweeby little friend of yours the chords to his weird song about physics. Wouldn’t have been able to pull that off without at least a couple brain cells floating around under all that hair.” 

“I mean, that was just—”

“That was just something you’re good at. You don’t gotta be able to read Shakespeare to have smarts, you’re just smart about other shit.” 

A blush colours Steve’s cheeks. “I—thanks,” he murmurs. 

Billy doesn’t get a chance to respond.

In the front seat of his beat-up old Camaro, with snow starting to fall outside, gathering silently on the dimly illuminated windshield, Steve Harrington kisses him for the first time. He’s still holding Billy’s hand. One second he’s glancing down shyly, smiling small and crooked, the next…

His lips are soft. Gentle. He kisses like he’s asking permission, barely touching Billy at all. 

Despite the light brush of a kiss, Billy feels it everywhere, lit up with a jolt of electricity right through his chest. He chases Steve when he pulls away, with a hasty press of his mouth, kisses him again. 

And again.

His free hand comes up to cup Steve’s cheek, holding that warmth in the palm of his hand, trying to keep him close for as long as possible. Steve makes a quiet noise against his lips, and his heart clenches, his breath catching in his throat. 

They part eventually, Billy still basking in the phantom sensation of Steve’s smile pressed to his, leaving him tingling and warm. Their foreheads touch, resting together, the point of contact is grounding, the only thing stopping him from feeling like he could float away at any moment. 

“So,” Billy says after a moment, “Fair warning, I’m gonna have to start complimenting you more if that’s how you react to it.”

Steve laughs quietly. His eyes are still closed, so Billy starts counting his eyelashes.

“This some kinda fairy tale, Hargrove? I kiss you and you turn into a polite human being?” 

“Hardly. But I’ll see what I can do about the happy ending part.” 

“The Disney kind, or the massage parlor kind?”

Billy kisses Steve again, grinning. “Both, if I’m lucky.”

And he was.

[falcqns]

please do!!

okay here we go:

here's what alejandra has done:

- called Cove a brat for crying in the middle of the night (she was a week old and she was hungry)

- ruined my birthday because she got shit faced drunk and started swearing at my mom in spanish because she told Tatic to get his 'drunk ass gf' out of her daughters birthday party

- tried to kick me out of my own apartment (which tom and i pay for half of because we live there with our daughter) because i wouldn't eat her cooking that had pineapple in it (i am anaplactically allergic to pineapple and there's a shortage of epipens)

- bought me the first harry potter book for christmas when i bought her a new laptop because hers was really old and i wanted a good relationship with her (ive been rereading the series since i was 8 i can practically recite Goblet of Fire by now)

- yells at me for things that Tatic does (like leaving his dirty dishes in HIS bedroom but somehow that's my fault)

- i was sick with the flu about a month after Cove was born and she complained that i was 1) crying because i was profusely vomiting and i have severe emetophobia so i was sick and scared out of my mind 2) 'dumped' Cove on Tatic for the night (he willingly took her so Tom could take care of me)

- doesn't refer to Cove by her name, just 'the baby'

- calls me a baby anytime Tatic chooses her over me because it always upsets me and i always run to moms because i don't want Tatic to see me that upset bc i still love him

- gets angry when Tatic and i talk in Romanian because she cant be involved in the conversation

- hates my bunică because she always chooses me over Tatic

- constantly calls me 'Puta' in spanish (dumbass thinks i don't know spanish smh)

- Tatic posted about me after i gave birth and she reposted things about "children raising children" on her story but took it down after Tatic got angry

- there's lots more too but i don't want this post to be too long but here's some times Tatic has chosen her (or other girlfriends) over me:

- i had covid at christmas in 2021 and was hospitalized because of it and he chose to go on a date with her instead of being there for me when i got a CAT scan done (i am severely afraid of CAT scan machines)

- i had a school play but his girlfriend had a premiere and he deemed that more important

- he went on a vacation during the pandemic with aforementioned girlfriend when he had a child at home who was traveling back and forth between a house that had a immunocompromised person (my brother who's under 5) and he could have easily spread it to me and i could have spread it to the lil guy

- he didn't want to take me on an audition and made me find my own way across New York at 15 years old because he his girlfriend was sick (she made him take me once she found out, loved her, miss her lots)

i have so many stories about this dr ajdjjfisdf

[shotofire]

Sibling Rivalry

TODOROKI x F!READER

BAKUGOU x SISTER!READER (no, not incest. We don’t allow that here)

•Overview: Bakugou is your crazy brother who would die before he’d let you date Todoroki

•Warnings: cursing, angst

•Season: in the season one range, but it’s not specified

This fic is more of a Bakugou brother au then a Todoroki fic, but I love it.

-

Getting accepted into UA was your greatest dream come true. You’d imagined it happening for years, you’d practically counted down the days until you could take the eligibility test. And when the day came you absolutely killed it, you did better than your twin brother Bakugou.

He had totally freaked out when the results came back. Saying how, “It was rigged,” and, “There’s no way you could’ve done better than me.” But you knew he was happy for you, deep down in his angry heart he was proud to have a sister like you. Your mother constantly told you how much he admired you but may never admit it, even if he was on his death bed.

You didn’t really mind him though, he was your brother and you cared for him. Siblings aren’t ever going to let the other get the upper hand especially under your guys’ circumstances. You both wanted to be hero’s, more importantly the number one hero.

From day one you and Bakugou have competed to be better. It was one thing after another. Your parents even said you two fought for the ‘better rattle’ when you were babies. There’s no sibling duo that shows rivalry better than you two.

But, there was also admiration. You may argue a lot and possess crazy anger issues, yours being way more controlled than his, but you were still joined at the hip. You both didn’t like the same people, both wanted to be hero’s, had a mission to get into UA, and wanted to save people.

The only thing that really bothered you about Bakugou was the fact everyone was afraid of him. He made it hard for you to have friends, and especially boyfriends. Guys have always been scared to even talk to you because of him.

When you got into UA you hoped things would be different. Maybe he’d calm down because he’d reached one of his goals, but no. He still yelled, he still got angry, he still picked on Izuku, and he still tried to boss you around.

The constant drama Bakugou was starting among your classmates was unbelievably tiring. It seemed that he had a problem with just about everyone you talked to, and would yell at anyone who even glanced at you. All you wanted was a good experience at UA and your brother was making it pretty much impossible.

The main reason Bakugou acted the way he did towards certain people was because of you. He’d heard the things boys said about you in middle school and it made him want to rip them to shreds. It didn’t take a genius to know that you were a very attractive girl, and boys naturally gravitated towards you. But with Bakugou in the middle they always backed away.

You used to tell yourself that the one who didn’t back down was the one for you, but it seemed like that day would never come. He was like your personal bodyguard that you didn’t ask for and didn’t want. You even gave up on liking boys pretty quick. You accepted the fact that every guy was going to be scared of your insane brother.

Then you came to UA and met him.

Shoto Todoroki, truly the best looking boy you’d ever seen. He had these two different colored eyes that had you breathless, and his hair looked so soft you just wanted to rake your fingers through it. More so, you wanted to talk to him without Bakugou around.

Todoroki and your brother were constantly at each other’s necks competing, and you were tired of it. There’s no way Todoroki would even consider talking to you knowing your brother practically hated his guts.

“Give me an actual reason why you don’t like Todoroki,” you had asked one day, “and you can’t give me some bullshit response. Tell me what he’s actually done to you to make you so angry.”

Bakugou grunted and narrowed his eyes, “he thinks he’s better than me!”

You had only scoffed at his response before dramirally rolling your eyes, “did he say that to you? Or are you just butthurt that someone might just naturally be stronger than you?”

Yeah, that conversation really pissed him off. All of his responses to you for that next week consisted of aggressive yelling and calling you annoying. Brotherly love, you just couldn’t get enough of it could you?

Today was a new day, it was Friday. So once the day was over you didn’t have to hear Bakugou pick fights with other students for two days. You really valued the weekends, you could shut your room door and be in your own space. Bakugou eventually came to talk to you out of boredom, but was never necessarily mean when doing so. It’s actually the only time he’s somewhat tolerable.

“Can you not be on full asshole mode today, just for me?” you ask, pleading with him.

He only huffed dramatically in response. His fingers were gripping at his backpack straps tightly. Something was wrong with him you could tell. It wasn’t even a twin thing, he was just obviously distressed about something. You had no idea what could already be up with him this early in the morning, but you never knew with Bakugou.

You take your seat, which was right next to your brother, and couldn’t help but glance at Todoroki. He had his chin propped up on his hand and seemed sleepier than usually, but he looked so cute. He felt your gaze and his eyes met yours, and you gave him a small smile. He sleepily smiled back and you felt your cheeks heat up.

When you turned back towards the front you could feel your brothers eyes burning into you with anger. You look at him with a annoyed expression and dramatically say, “What?”

He only ignores, eyes still looking at you as if you know why he’s being like this. But really you had no idea, he expected you to know the root of every single little anger issue he had.

The day went by and he continued to ignore you, and when he would speak it’d be one word laced with attitude. You’ve about had enough of him being like this, especially when you had done absolutely nothing wrong.

Your class was outside doing some training  exercises when you decided enough was enough. You grabbed your twin by the ear and began pulling him away from the group, and they watched in amusement.

“Let go of me you brat!” He says with his ‘scary’ voice, but it was nothing to you. You use your quirk to heat up your fingers and that makes him shut up.

“You’re going to tell me why you’re being and extra bitch today before I embarrass you infront of this whole class!” you whisper yell at him with stern eyes and hands on your hips.

He lightly chuckles at you, “Someone sounds like Mom right now.”

Yep, your angry side is coming out right now. It was only two months into school but your classmates had yet to witness just how angry you can get. It can be way more intimidating than Bakugou, and you sometimes loose control.

Bakugou noticed the anger building up within you and can feel your classmates eyes looking from afar. He knows you’d be so ashamed to let them see you in your worst state. He moves himself so he’s standing in front of you, and the only thing prying eyes can see is his back.

“C’mon (y/n) breath, don’t go all fire bomb on me. Our class would be more scared of you than me,” he says while having his hands grip your shoulders.

Sometimes it was hard for you to come back to reality when he made you this mad, but he knew how to fix it. You took deep breaths but anger still coursed through you. Yes you were calming down and more aware, but punching your brother in the face would definitely do the trick.

“Now tell me what your problem is,” you say through gritted teeth.

You were tired of this. All of the class heard how he had been talking to you and it was stressing you out. You didn’t want to look like his weak sister who let his words walk all over her.

He lets his hold go on you and wonders his eyes around to look at anything but you. He’s acting all weird all of the sudden, hostile. As if what he’s about to say is going to make the situation even worse than it already is.

“I, uh, may or may not have read your journal,” he starts and your eyes widen, “and know that you like Todoroki.”

You can’t even stop yourself before you’re kneeing him in his groan as hard as you can. He drops to his knees and that’s when you take the opportunity to smack him in the face. You guys may fight a lot but he was your bestfriend and you were to him. And the fact he broke your guys’ privacy rule like this pissed you off.

He yells out in pain before dropping to the ground. His hands stay cupped on his center and there’s already a bright red handprint forming on his cheek. Your classmates stare in complete shock, none of them had ever seen you act this way.

Mr. Aizawa wasn’t happy with this little scene. Usually he lets you two talk it out whenever you’re bickering because you’re siblings and that’s just the best way to go. But to disrupt his class this dramatically without a care in the world pissed him off.

The black haired man was already walking towards you two. The whole class couldn’t even say anything. The fact that you just got Bakugou on the ground with two hits was beyond impressive, and you didn’t even have to use your quirk.

“You two, laps around the school until I tell you to stop, NOW!”

For the next hour and a half of school you and Bakugou ran. You lost track of how many times you’d gone around once your head started to pound. He kept trying to talk to you the entire time but you just kept telling him to, “fuck off.”

Not even once in your life had you gotten into your brothers business. If he wanted to tell you he’d do it himself, and you’d rather it go down like that. Finding out something you’re not supposed to know would make you feel like a bad sister. So you knew Bakugou felt like shit right now, and you wanted him to feel that way.

Finally you could come back to class, but the period only had thirty minutes left until the day was over. The classroom was filled with you and your brothers heavy breathing. Also, you both smelled like shit.

“Take the dynamic sibling duo as an example to not disrupt my class,” Mr. Aizawa says, and you wished you could kick him where the sun doesn’t shine.

The bell rings and Bakugou once again tries to talk to you, but you cut him off, “I already have to deal with you when I get home you dick. So the least you can do is let me walk by myself.”

He doesn’t say anything, he only walks away. Bakugou only seems to understand his limit when it comes to you. He knew he went too far reading something so personal. You’d never did anything like that to him, so why would he do it to you?

You keep your head down as you stuff your books aggressively into your backpack. Anyone watching you right now probably thought you were crazy. You feel a presence walk up to your desk and you tighten your jaw.

“Katsuki Bakugou, if you do not leave me the hell alone i’m going to-“ “Um, sorry it’s Todoroki.”

Your breath hitches as soon as you hear his voice. You halt your movements and slowly lift your head up to look at him. He had a blank expression on his face but he obviously had something to say.

“Oh my gosh Todoroki i’m so sorry. I thought you were my brother, well duh I thought that. I’m just so mad at him I assumed he came back after I told him to go away cause he always does that,” you nervously laugh and realize you’re rambling like an idiot. You gulp and quickly zip up your backpack before slinging it over your shoulder.

“Um, do you need something?” you ask as politely as you can.

It takes a lot for you to get nervous, and this boy definitely doesn’t the trick. You’ve talked to him a good amount of times, but all conversations were short lived because of Bakugou. And each time you have talked you said something stupid out of the growing nerves in your stomach. He never seemed to mind though, but you still chewed yourself out about it.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d mind if I walked you home?” He asks with a soft smile.

Your heartbeat increased lightening fast and your words got caught in your throat. He’d never ever asked you anything like this, the boy had never even talked to you outside of school functions.

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” you say with a squeaky voice and your cheeks heat up. You looked like a complete idiot, but thankfully Todoroki thought you were adorable. Only if you knew.

The walk home was nerve racking but Todoroki’s easygoing self calmed you down a lot. He talked about how his dad was the number two hero, how he wanted to do better, and how life was going. He asked you questions as well, in all honesty he seemed more interested in talking about you than him.

He was awful sweet as the walk went on. You’d never met this side of him and you were enjoying it. You even made him blush a few times which blew your mind. You making Todoroki blush? That’s insane!

“Well,” you say sadly, “this is me.”

He glances at your good sized home before looking back at you. He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“What is it?” You ask concerned.

“Well, I uh,” he purses his lips, “Someone may or may not have told me you had a little crush on me.”

Your mouth fell open and your face reached a full shade of red. His cheeks were red as well, but no where near as bad as yours. You were literally about to panic from how bad your nerves were swirling in your chest.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you grunt.

It was so hard to not yell right now. You knew he was inside, probably watching tv with your bag of chips. All you wanted was to slam his face into the concrete where you stood. Obviously kneeing his jewels wasn’t enough.

“No, no. I’m glad he told me,” he waves his hands, “Cause I am interested in you too.”

“You’re what?” you ask completely unconvinced, “He put you up to this didnt he? Is this all some big joke to get back at me for embarrassing him?”

Todoroki doesn’t know what to say. You were visibly getting angry, you kinda looked like Bakugou. Of course angry Bakugou didn’t phase him at all, but a pretty girl he had a liking for was a whole other story.

“No, it’s not! I promise!”

You look into his eyes and see how concerned he is. It takes you a few seconds to remember that Todoroki isn’t a complete jerk like your brother and would never entertain you like this. And even if Bakugou was a jerk he wouldn’t go this far.

“Shit, i’m sorry,” you say while looking down, “I got too in my head.”

That’s twice today that you’ve let someone see your anger that you can barely control at times.

“It’s okay (y/n), really. I understand you’re on edge after today,” he softly smiles, “Would you wanna go get some sushi tomorrow?”

Your frown turns into a smile and you nod. At this point you could scream for joy or beat Bakugou up just for the hell of it.

“I’d like that, a lot.”

“Okay,” he says with the same soft smile that you adored, “I’ll be here tomorrow around seven in the afternoon, is that fine?”

“That’s perfect.”

You walk into you living room and there sits your brother doing exactly what you knew he would be doing. Sitting on the couch with your bag of chips in his lap while watching his dumb show.

He looks at your happy expression and sarcastically smiles with chips stuffed him his mouth. You could tell him was angry, as if he knew what state you’d ben in once you walked in the door.

“Why did you tell him I liked him?” you ask

“Cause I knew he liked you too,” he answers while chip crumbs fly out of his mouth.

You crunch your eyebrows together and sit yourself next to him on the couch. You grab his jaw and yank his head to face you, looking at him suspiciously.

“So somehow you knew he liked me,” you say and tighten your grip on his jaw, “and out of the nonexistent kindness of your heart decided to help your sister out?”

He pulls his face out of your grip and puts another chip in his mouth, “yeah, so what?”

You can’t help but smile. This was his way of apologizing, and it really was the best apology ever. He may be an asshat at times but here he was doing something for you cause he cared, even if he hated every second of it.

“Oh my gosh!” you said loudly, “You love your sister! This is insane!”

Of course you already knew this, you were just being sarcastic to bug him further. He didn’t pay you any attention and continued to watch his show. You could cry cause you were so happy. You had a date and your brother did something nice for you. It was a good day after all, even through all the bad.

You got up with a big smile, “Thank you Baku.”

He only mumbles in response, still not wanting to acknowledge that he did something nice for you. You get up and start walking to your room, but your brothers voice stops you in your tracks.

“(y/n),” he says, “if he breaks your heart i’m breaking his face, and every bone in his body.”

You only giggle at him, “It’s a deal.”

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series: 

Outtake Collection #16:

———————————

A/N: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii babies!!!!!!!!!! Let’s fucking goooooooooooooo! I’m excited for y’all to read this juicy marathon. As of right now, I am unsure of how many collections it will be but it’s going to be one of the longest marathons ii. Check back every 20 minutes or so if you caught this immediately. Oh and I will be trying again to put my post under a read more but if it fucks up an deletes half the chapter again I am DONE and I TRIED okay??? xo

***ALSO I did not add my taglist to the last marathon so you guys might have missed collections 13-15!!!!***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Your Losty Heartbreak and Your Spy Kids Debut 😎🖊📚

Sigh. The curse of being a young adult, I tell ya. 

You are annoyed. 

Yes, two months after the breakup you are still completely heartbroken, even though, yes, it was your genius idea to break up with the love of your life: a man that girls only dream about having as a S/O….

but it was a selfless decision.

Aone Takanobu deserved more, better… than you. That was your rationale.

It’s not fair of you to just accept the perfect man because he was lost enough to lock onto you and not someone on his level. 

While it was a selfless decision , it was still a decision you selfishly regretted because …you were so in love with that man at the time that you did it….

You are….

But you will stifle those emotions so that he can get over you and hopefully see his own worth. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be annoyed. Because you were. And at what, exactly? Well:

After dating and breaking up with him, Aone had females constantly approaching him. A/N: Not constantly but it felt that way for you ofc lol

You guess it’s nice that the females of Date Teko gave him the courtesy of one month to get over you but STILL!

Kusa and Katana said that Takanobu’s admirers shot up because everyone witnessed how he treated you, how amazing he was to you, and they fell for that along with his looks.

Your ex’s new admirers are hoping they can get a man that just as inwardly beautiful as he is outwardly and hopefully he will like them, too

In other words: They want what you had. 

And what did you want? 

Well:

You wanted to rip some hair out. Yours or theirs? You’ll leave that up to subjective interpretation. 

EVERY TIME you walked past your ex—that you still love—’s locker there was some brat or another staring up at him in admiration like he was Mount fucking Everest. 

You wanted to scream. 

but isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N? Your Mountain man to find someone else? Your conscience would ask. 

Shut the hell up, conscience. You’d bark back. 

You heard from Katana who was keeping tags on his every admirer that he denied them all dates (which defeats the purpose of your break-up, but you smiled nonetheless) but that Aone did agree to host a study session with a group of girls that apparently begged/needed his help in all subjects before finals. 

give me a fucking break, you and your conscious agreed.

“Ugh. He’s too kind for his own good. Can’t he see those girls just want an excuse to be near him?!?!” You raged about the study session as you peered closely through the passenger side window to make sure that Kusa got inside her house safely. It was 6pm, and you had just heard the news while on the way home from dinner at your favourite restaurant. Katana drove. From her doorstep, Kusa waved at you before closing her door.  

This Saturday, your best friends forced you on your first outing since the breakup, dressing you and even doing your makeup despite your complaining about leaving the house. You had to admit that the food that you did order at the restaurant was decent enough, but really—you would much prefer to still be in bed, flipping through pictures of Aone and Perdu and having a good cry.

Katana rolled her eyes as she stopped at a red light, responding to your initial question. “Ugh. Yeah, they are smarter than we thought. But you’re okay with this, right? I mean this is what you said you  wanted when you broke up with him. You said you want him to find a new girl,”” Katana fished for your true feelings, sounding a lot like your annoying conscience. 

You sulked, picturing other females near the man you are in love with. It made you sick. But, instead, you said, “Of course I am Okay with it. I want him to be the happiest he can be.”

Katana fixed her eyes on the road and bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t laugh. 

You had no idea why you weren’t being fully honest with your friends, but perhaps it made you believe it more the more you said it aloud. “I know Kusa had that assignment to do tonight… and you have that one with Kenji tomorrow, right? so do you want to come over? My mom got me another tub of cookie dough ice cream, and we can rewatch Bad Girls Club again.” You asked Katana in that voice that meant you didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Katana smirked. It was an evil smirk. “I’ll do you one better.”

“Uhhh… Katana….you missed my turn.” Your eyes widened when the cheer captain passed your street, and then passed her own street a few seconds later. “Katana!”

“Word on the cheer team is that Aone-san’s first study session ends in 20 at the local library. I wanna check it out.”

“What?! No you will not—!” You yelled, but you couldn’t help the surge of excitement that flew through your body thinking about seeing that man again. It was always like this.

“—Oh, lighten up— it’s not like I will be joining the damn study session.”

“You won’t?” You asked, surprised.

“Obviously not! Muri is studying something else there, so I need to give her back her notes anyway. It’s only a plus that I’ll get to see how desperate those girls are being with my besties ex. Incognito, kay? I was going to drop you off first and go, but it looks like you don’t wanna be alone. Right?” 

Your pretty best friend waited a few seconds for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she nodded. “Exactly.” She turned into the school’s practically empty parking lot, finding her favourite spot. “So, you can stay in the car. No prob. And I won’t tell you anything about it.” 

You frowned, watching as Katana reached in the backseat for her purse so that she could take out the notes she had for Muri.

“Okay,” you whispered anxiously.  

“I’ll be like, 10 minutes.” The brunette removed her keys from the ignition and stepped outside of her car.

You stayed where you were as Katana’s figure disappeared into the one of the Date Teko’s many entrances. You began to think about what your friend was going to see in there: Aone leaning over the shoulder of pretty Date Teko girls? Helping them with their homework the way he would help you? These girls smelling his fresh icy mountain scent, and leaning in closer, the way you would to him?

Naturally, you began to panic internally.

You pictured the girls twirling their hair flirtatiously and telling him that they didn’t understand when they did, just to keep him hovering over them longer. The same way you used to. 

😤😤😤

Your foot started tapping on its own inside Katana’s car, thinking about how your lost ex-boyfriend wouldn’t even pick up any of it as flirting, ugh. 

Your imagination created even more concerning visuals: more giggling, more oblivious Aone, more shoulder brushing, more oblivious Aone, and then some more….. yeah. Should it really have come as no surprise that you soon found yourself hidden behind a dusty bookshelf in the anatomy section of your school’s library on a Saturday, squatted down and peeping through the slits between books to catch glimpses of your ex boyfriend hosting a study session?!

You blamed your active imagination. 

Behind the dusty shelves, you whimpered because the obstructed vision due to the books covered the white haired beauty perfectly. You held a disgusting book to the right a bit.

“Oh,” your stomach flipped. “He looks so cute.” You put on a 🥺 face when you noticed how utterly adorable a standing Takanobu looked decked out in forest green sweatpants and a matching hoodie with the hood on, and his white hair barely visible. 

Your stomach flips were quickly bumped away by sheer annoyance as you saw him then do exactly what brought you up here, just as you thought: innocently leaning down to help a blonde third-year girl you knew by the name of Sutairu Elyts with a question she was asking. She was smiling way too much for someone doing boring ass school work on Saturday, you noted. Flipping her hair, giggling, and obnoxiously putting her cleavage in Aone’s line of sight. You picked up the dusty library book that was obstructing your view and stopped yourself from tossing it at Sutairu— instead choosing to toss it to the side without a care in the world, trying to get a closer look at how close the girl was going to get while Aone answered her question. 

You were close to literally poking your head through the bookshelf hole completely, when someone to the left of your hiding spot cleared their throat very loudly. You jumped, bumping your head and hissing in pain. 

You removed your head from the bookshelf and looked up at the cause of your newfound migraine.

There stood Katana, her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. “You got here faster than I thought,” She reached down to help you up. “Now, come on. None of this amateur shit. You know my style. When it comes to cute boys: make it obvious, and make it count.”

***

Aone was in the middle of teaching Algebra to a group of students (he doesn’t register the fact that they are all conveniently female and all too well dressed for a study session) who had desperately begged him for his help, to the point where the teacher just asked Aone to do it. 

He didn’t mind, the teacher offered him extra credit and everyone he was teaching was nice, they didn’t mind him being pretty silent, plus Kenji fully supported it. So why not? Aone mainly supported it because it was a great distraction from his broken heart and his plan…. 

Or so he thought it would be—before he spotted you in the library.

His heart skipped a beat because he absolutely was not expecting to see you today. His plan wasnt supposed to be put into action until Monday! Trying not to freak out, Aone watched you enter from a side that wasnt the entry way—which is pretty odd—but he shoved the thought to the side anyway because there you were, looking busy.

“Wow.” Takanobu couldn’t stop himself from mouthing when his eyes found you. He mouthed it to himself, of course, but it caused the observant participants in his study group to whip around to see what he was looking at. 

you were dressed pretty casually, coming from dinner with the girls, but Aone hadn’t seen you dressed in anything other than your school or cheer uniforms since your breakup, so it took him by surprise

Not to mention you looked really, really, really good:

Aone watched you scan the bookshelves with Katana—which, if Takanobu was thinking straight— he would realistically call bs on you ever coming to the library for no reason, ESPECIALLY on a Saturday— but you looked too gorgeous to him to care 

Now that he is working alongside you in a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression a bit, simply because your mere presence made him feel whole again, so he basked in the delight he felt any time he was able to see you.

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you want to be with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again. 

The premise of Aone’s plan presides on the idea that you are the only girl he wants. Therefore, he just has to prove that to you. Silently. Strategically. 

So that’s the only reason why Aone was able to to shift his focus right now and look away from you, effectively returning to helping his study group and making them forget you even walked in. 

Aone’s mission is to become the man that you want and need, naturally. He will exude more confidence: which is a testament to the fact that he was here right now: tutoring a bunch of girls who have asked him out and he has rejected before because of you,

He wants word to get back to you that your ex is the type of guy who knows how to be just friends with people who had feelings for him. Just in case you wanted to start there with him.

He wants to be your friend. Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if that’s all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that is what he would willingly accept!  

Aone forced himself to look back down, getting up to step around the circular table to help with the other girls’ study guides. 

He was able to keep his cool for the most part, but almost lost it twice... 

Once when you dropped a book and bent down to pick it up, showcasing how amazing your butt looked in those jeans. 

Aone cleared his throat to get his own attention back and turned away quickly when he felt a familiar stir under his sweatpants. He stuffed his hands deep in his sweatpants pockets and directed his energy back to the paper in front of him. He erased an answer for one of his students and plugged in the correct one.

The second time Takanobu almost lost his cool was when he heard you make a cute noise and his eyes flicked back up to you. You were trying to reach a book that was too high for you but probably met the height of his ear, your hand above your head, your bodyweight on your toes which gravitationally rose your top up as well, exposing the naked skin on your lower back. 

Aone’s throat went dry and he bit back a groan because the last time he’d stared at that lower back of yours so intensely: you were in a perfect arch, naked, using his dick to pleasure yourself when he told he was on the phone. 

Cue hands in pockets again.

He recalled how that section of your back had a light layer of sweat on it back then, making it glisten as he bit his lip, trying not to moan to the feeling of your tight and juicy walls running up and down his length. Holy, shit, that feel good. 

Aone began thinking about helping you get that book and then fucking you against that bookshelf you were leaning on: holding you up in his arm, the other hand used to place it behind your head as a cushion so that you did not harm yourself when he sheathed his big dick inside your absolutely perfect box, so hot and so delicious, and soo hard not to cum inside within the first minute…..

👁👅👁 Aone’s eyes glazed over to the point where one of his tutor-ies had to snap their fingers in front of his face. 

Highly embarrassed, Takanobu pulled it together ASAP, muttering a quick and sincere apology and thinking only of his plan. Trusting in his plan, he refused to look up in your general direction again. He didn’t trust himself to. 

***

“He barely looked my way….” You sobbed into your cookie dough ice cream later that night, Katana rubbing your back and removing your hair out the tub. 

“Please, Y/N,” Katana begged, absolutely gutted seeing her best friend like this. “Please be honest with yourself and make sure you truly stand by the decision you made.”

———————————

A New Aone and a Perfect Plan? ✅🤩

Mountain Man put absolutely all of his energy into his plan to get you back. His understanding is that you broke up with him because he wasn’t good enough for you, so that means he would just have to make himself good enough for you. While Kenji was completely against Aone trying to get back the girl who broke his heart, Kenji found himself agreeing with the plan since it meant that his best friend would be speaking, playing volleyball, and overall living life again while it was in action. The plan was to essentially fake it till you make it—show you that Takanobu could be the man you deserved. 

The gist of the plan was for Aone to disallow himself to be zombie-like anymore, because you probably didn’t like that. He started spending more time with his friends again, and he was eating again. He was banking on this plan, and if it didn’t work—sure, he’d be crushed for the rest of his life—but at least he’d have no regrets. It wouldn’t be easy, he’d have to speak back to other females kindly letting them down when all he wanted to do was speak to you. He’d have to ignore you when you walked by which meant going against his every instinct, and he’d have to speak to you confidently in class when you two were working on the project and small talk about your lives, when all he wanted to do was lean in and kiss you until he could taste you even when he pulled away. 

Thoughts of you consumed him, still, but they were now hopeful thoughts. He was not going to let his dream girl walk away that easily. 

A/N: GO BABY GOOOOO

You, on the other hand, took this new and confident Aone as a sign that he was getting over you. He didn’t seem very sad anymore, you didn’t see that same dejected and lost eyes you saw when he pushed his best friend away from you. You saw intensity there, like he was now focused on a new task in his life. It confused you, and it hurt like a bitch, because deep down you knew he’d move on soon and you wouldn’t. 

But this is what you wanted, right? 🙄🙄Repeated your conscience, again. You really wanted to fight her. 

“Y/N, you seem out of it today.” Mountain Man stopped writing the outline of the content analysis in class to stare down at you. You could see the concern in his eyes, but you refused to believe it was anything more than the concern anyone would feel for an ex turned friend, and nothing more. 

Embarrassed, you realized that you must have zoned-out, and now this gorgeous man that you wanted to jump was calling you out on your odd behaviour. “W-was I?’ You shook your head then looked down in your lap. “Sorry.” 

Aone placed his pencil down, heart pounding because he wanted that frown of yours to disappear so badly. “Is it about your University Cheerleading tryouts?” He asked kindly, too kindly—if you had any hope of getting over him in the next 5 years. 

You looked up at him, confused as to why he’d even mention that. 

The white haired beauty blushed. “Kogane—he, uh, well…” Aone took a second to look away and collect his thoughts because your big beautiful eyes were making him lose his train of thought. He reminded himself of his plan and collected himself, returning to your gaze. “Kogane-san mentioned to Kenji and I this morning that Kusa needed someone to film her audition tape, because that is the only way cheerleaders are able to send in your tryouts for schools that are too far away, correct?”

“Oh,” You nodded. “Ya—“

Aone continued without missing a beat. “I know Kogane is helping film Kusa’s, and you mentioned yesterday that Katana is out of town for a camp… so, and feel free to say no: but I’d love to offer you my help, Y/N. With filming and editing.” 

There was a pause in which you just looked at Aone with those big beautiful eyes that he thinks about 24/7. 

Afraid that he might be coming onto way too strong, which goes against his super slow plan, Takanobu adds: “As friends. Offer you my help as friend.” 

Your heart sunk, but he looked so sweet asking, not to mention you really did need to get on that tryout instead of pushing it off until you miss it completely and don’t end up going to University—

If you didn’t get a cheer scholarship you were screwed; Aone knew this. Not to mention you would love to see him more; Aone did not know this.

“I’ve taken photography as my elective for the past three years and do pretty well in that class in terms of grades, so I just thought…” Mountain Man was scared shitless, nervously listing off his accomplishments like this was an interview…. mostly due to the fact that you hadn’t answered him yet. Too fast, she can tell you want her back—now she’ll never give you another chance. Failure. Aone opened his mouth to retract his offer, but you interrupted him before he could get the first word out. 

“Um, yes. Sure. I’d love your help, Aone-san. I promise it won’t take long. Thank you so much.” 

Aone nodded even though he was bursting at the seams inside. Mountain Man couldn’t believe it. After  being broken up with because your feelings weren’t there, you agreed to spend non-school related time with him?! The middle blocker couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t have said yes, had he still been acting like a zombie. Actually, he wouldn’t even have dared asked, if he was still acting like a zombie. Now he gets to help you and see you more than he has since the breakup, and he considers this like a gift! Yes!

“Great. Just tell me where and when you would like to have your audition, and I will be there.” A very cool reply.

You even rewarded him even more with a smile. “How about next Tuesday? Here on the field since it’s getting warm out again? I need to rehearse a lot and that gives me enough time.”

“Understood.” A cool second later, Takanobu had to excuse himself to the washroom so that he could celebrate in silence. He texted his friends and took a deep breath.

Selfishly, Aone also wanted to help you with this particular audition because he wanted you to go to the same University as he and Kenji. He wanted to help you with your future assignments and he wanted to see you everyday. How great would that be? A little torturous, too. But if you were on a cheer team and happy, then: mostly great. 

Baby steps, Mountain Man sighed contentedly. He would get you back in baby steps, and this was the first one. 

He just had to keep following the plan.

———————————

Taglist: @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same @marvelousbakugou @qyuanon 💛

Outtake #17: CLICK HERE!

[emmies-archives]

The Girl With The Skull Panties

Bakugo Katsuki X Reader Part 2: A Little Brat

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, (Not nsfw, but mentioned slightly)

Summary: You find that some of Bakugo’s laundry has been mixed up with yours, he finds out due to a fire alarm going off in the middle of the night. He starts to make a move on you

 You really don’t know how you got your hands on it. After racking your brain at the last day's events, the only thing you could think of is that it just appeared in your dorm room. There was no reason for it to even have made its way to your dorm, either the laundry got mixed up somehow, or someone was trying to sabotage you. You really hoped it was the latter and that the clothing items you were missing had just gotten misplaced in your unorganized room. Not misplaced in another person’s hands.

Holding the shirt in your hand, you really didn’t know what to do with it. It’s not like you could knock on Bakugo’s dorm and hand him his shirt. He would blow you down the hall thinking you were trying to plan a shitty prank on him. He would never believe that you had just found it in your room.  You would just have to keep it, for now, you could just wait for the right moment to sneak it back in his laundry somehow.

That would be difficult though. Whenever you were in a room with Bakugo his attention somehow never strayed from you. It’s not like you were anything special, you just really liked to piss him off. It was only for your own benefit really, you enjoyed his attention on you even if it was angry. You just wondered if he’d be able to be anything other than angry towards you.

You were constantly at the receiving end of his threats, sometimes he even followed through with them. It was just in your nature to try to draw a smile on peoples’ faces with your humor. It always hard with Bakugo though, your antics never humored him. You don’t even think you have ever made the boy laugh. That fueled you even further in trying to make him even crack a grin. Nothing worked. Not one thing. You always seemed to make him mad, but you kind of loved it. At least you had some effect on him, and his eyes were on you after all.

You’ve tried different pranks with Kirishima, hoping to outsmart Bakugo and catch him off guard. Somehow, he always seemed to sense something was up and would usually blast away whatever thing you had planned against him with angry shouts. The only thing that didn’t elicit rage from him was when you physically beat Mineta when he tried to perv on you or the other girls. You would just barely catch a smirk on his lips until he turned it into a snarl when he saw you notice.

What you didn’t know, and something he would never admit to himself was that Bakugo secretly loved your stupid pranks. Something about the way you were always happy and laughing even though he was screaming at you all kinds of threats made him just a little flustered. How you were always able to piss him off just the right way was a little soothing to him, he couldn’t get enough. He eventually stopped trying to find your pranks and just let them happen, he loved to see your face scrunched up in laughter.

You set the shirt on top of the small table next to your bed and left your room and rummaged through the basket of clean clothes on the floor. You threw on some grey joggers and a black sweatshirt and made your way out of your room. It was a little late but there was still sometime before curfew so you decided to head down to the common room.

When you entered, you saw there were actually more people than you expected. Mina and Jiro looked to be gossiping on the couch while Mina painted her nails. Kirishima, Kaminari, and Bakugo had a deck of cards in front of them trying to figure out a game to play. Midoriya sat at one of the chairs, his face plunged into one of his notebooks. You smiled at the sight of him and whatever poor soul he was writing about now.

“Hey, boys, what’cha up to?” You threw yourself on the seat between Kirishima and Bakugo, kicking your legs up on the spiky blonde’s lap. Kirishima grinned at your actions.

“Get your shitty feet off of me, woman!” He pushed your legs down basically growling at you, you let out a laugh and slumped down in the chair.

“We’re trying to figure out a game to play, but we’ve played almost all of them already.” Kaminari groaned. “And Bakugo keeps winning every time too!”

“It's not my fault you two are shit at everything! Maybe me and L/n should play, at least she knows what she’s doing.” Bakugo grunted looking at you long enough for you to flash a smile at him causing him to roll his eyes.

“You got that right, I happen to be an ace at cards.” You said proudly “I’m glad someone as haughty as you were able to see it, Bakugo.” This got yet another eye roll from the boy making you laugh.

“C’mon guys, we're not that bad!” Kirishima said collecting all the cards again.

“The hell you aren’t.” Bakugo grunted shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Maybe not you Kiri, I’ve seen other people beat Kaminari at Solitaire before.” A laugh ripped out of Kirishima and Kaminari scrunched his face up at you groaning again. You threw your hands up in defense, “I only speak the truth. I’m pretty sure the only person that could be worse than you at cards, is yourself if you turn your quirk on for long enough.”

“L/n!” Kirishima was cackling now, even Kaminari had a grin on his face.

“You actually might be right…” Kaminari said trying to pout at you but failing. After a few more minutes of the two of you cracking jokes back and forth, Bakugo stood up pushing his chair back.

“This is annoying, I’m going to bed.” He huffed and started to walk away from the table.

“You know, I was actually surprised a grandpa like you would be up so late, especially on a school night too.” You only smirked at the pure annoyance that dawned on his features.

“Shut the hell up! I’m only leaving because you annoy the hell out of me!” He yelled and stomped out of the room, he turned to look at the group before he exited. He saw how you now had your legs sprawled over Kirishima’s, the laughter that sounded from his mouth put a frown on Bakugo’s features. “Tch, shitty woman.” For some reason, he couldn’t help but hate the way you were close with the red-haired boy. He didn’t understand how we're always making Kirishima laugh but always seemed to piss him off.

“I really was surprised when I saw Bakugo down here this late.” You said to Kirishima while you stretched your legs across his. “He was playing a game too that was rare.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure he secretly likes playing games. He always seems to beat everyone, it's always so manly too! He puts up an angry front, but under that I know he likes to have fun.” Kirishima did have a point, not many people around your age wouldn’t want to have fun. Why doesn’t he ever laugh or crack a smile though? “Plus, I think he stayed down here late to wait to see you.”

“Pft, you’re funny Kiri. Yeah, right.” Bakugo would never wait for you just for you to taunt him all night.

“No, I’m serious, he was heading upstairs earlier but Midoriya mentioned something about you always coming down here around the same time every night and Bakugo sat right back down.” Kirishima put a finger to his chin in thought but then shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, I think I’m going to head in too. Got to get my beauty rest and all that!”

You followed Kirishima upstairs, the two of you chatting about some random thing that happened during class the prior day. Your mind was on Kirishima’s earlier words about Bakugo. You never thought Bakugo would want to see you, he was always annoyed with you. Well, he was always angry around everyone so you didn’t think you were any different. You wondered if maybe you weren’t just annoying towards him.

 When you entered your room, tiredness flooded your senses. You discarded the sweatshirt and joggers, throwing on just a pair of training shorts and fell back onto your bed welcoming the comfortable warmness. It never did take you long to fall asleep if you were tired enough, you were glad about that because you usually woke up a handful of times throughout the night. When you did sleep through the entire night without waking up, you had very intense dreams and you tended to wake up very sluggish and confused. That happened tonight.

A few hours into the night you were plunged into a wild dream about being quirk less. The dream itself was enough to shake you up, but when you dreamt your classmates, and your friends started to berate you for suddenly losing your quirk it was chilling. You had never experienced much hatred like that before. The taunts in the dream grew so intense that they started combining, turning into one loud angry sound in your head. The sound grew louder and more deafening, it was as though you could feel it. Like you could reach out and touch it.

A loud bang on your door ripped you from your sleep. The same sound you heard in your dream was blaring in your dorm. Confusion set in for a moment you started to panic. Another knock came from your door and you could just hear one of the girls calling your name from behind it. “L/n! Come out!”

It was then you realized the sound was the fire alarm going off. You jumped out of your bed, your thoughts a bit clearer now. You started towards the door but then realized that you weren’t wearing very much. Grabbing the first thing you saw, you threw it over your head and threw open your door. Uraraka was standing on the other side, her face flushed. “Finally!” She grabbed your hand and the two of you made your way to the evacuation spot the class had practiced in drills.

You saw the other students gathering together waiting for your teachers. It looked as though it was only your classes’ dorm that had been evacuated. Your mind was still a little foggy, and you felt jumpy from the dream you had, even though you could barely remember any of it. You and the girls made some nervous small talk, hoping that everything was okay.

You had your arms crossed over your chest trying to keep yourself warm in the cool night's breeze. You cursed at yourself for not grabbing anything warmer. After a while, the alarm stopped, the teachers announcing that it was a false alarm. You were glad to be able to go back inside, you just wanted to sleep. As your class made it's way back inside the building, your eyes fell onto Kirishima. He looked exhausted, and his hair was down.

“Woah, you look different!” You squeaked at him, he rubbed his hand over his tired eyes and laughed quietly.

“So do you, I didn’t know you let birds sleep in your hair L/n.” He ruffled the top of your head and walked into the school. You made a pit stop at the kitchen before heading back to your room. All the commotion and the way your dream had shaken you left your mouth dry. Just as you reached up towards the cupboard for a glass you heard something behind you.

“What the fuck?” You spun on your heals and noticed Bakugo had walked in and was staring straight at you. He didn’t say anything so you cocked your head at him.

“What do you mean what the fuck?” You quipped back, your attention on the sink as you filled the glass up with water and began to drink from it.

“Why the fuck are you wearing my shirt?” he asked so bluntly it took a second to register in your brain. You choked at what he said and water basically spewed from your nose. Looking down at the shirt you wore it was just then you realized that you had put on his black t-shirt, the white skull printed on the center looked up at you in your shock. Your face erupted into a burning red and you felt as though it would start steaming any second.

“I-I um. Well-“ He interrupted your stuttering with a sharp laugh. To say you were surprised was an understatement. You don’t think you’d ever heard him laugh before, it was almost startling. “It's not what you think! It was just in my room I swear! I think it got mixed up in my laundry. I must’ve grabbed it by mistake when the alarm was going off”

His laughing continued for a moment and you were starting to get confused. “This makes a little more sense now.” You were about to question him when he reached into his sweatpants pocket, pulling something out. When you saw what he held in his hand you felt like you were going to catch on fire. It was a pair of your underwear, a black lacy pair with silver skulls on it to be exact. If you died right there it would be too generous. “I found them in my laundry too. I was wondering whose they were. I’m surprised but not disappointed.” He laughed at the exasperated look on your face as you lunged towards him to grab your underwear and save you from more embarrassment. You were definitely glad that everyone else had gone back to their rooms, otherwise, you would’ve actually passed away.

Bakugo didn’t stop you from taking the underwear, he just grinned at you. “We are not going to speak of this again.” You said pushing past him heading towards your dorm. He followed you upstairs, apparently, he decided to embarrass you further and walk you to your dorm. You walked a little ahead of him, your face still burning at the thought he had seen your underwear. Glancing at Bakugo, you saw his face still adorned a smirk. You muttered a few choice words under your breath.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” You ignored him, finally making it to your dorm. You stopped before you went in and looked back at him.

“Thank you for giving these back. I’ll give you back your shirt, let me just wash it first.” Your cheeks burned slightly again and you closed your fist around your underwear tighter.

“No, don’t.” You snapped you head up as he took a step closer to you, pinning you against your door. He placed his hand on the door just above your shoulder, bringing his face close to yours. Your breath hitched at how close he was.

“What?” He rested his other hand on your waist gently.

“There’s no need, I have other shirts.” A cocky grin covered his face and you bit your lower lip nervously. He was clouding your senses, his scent overwhelming you. You didn’t even notice him take the pair of underwear from your grasp. “I want you to keep it.” His breath was hot against your neck as he brought his mouth close to your ear. “When you wear it, you better wearing these too.” He slowly put the pair of underwear into the pocket of your shorts and grabbing the pocket just slightly. You could swear you almost stopped breathing. He bit your jaw softly, leaving you a blushing wreck.

“What if I don’t?” You whispered just barely, challenging him. He reached down and grabbed the back of your thigh, squeezing slightly. The look in his eyes was consuming your clear head. He let out something similar to a growl.

“I’ll just have to make you then.” Those words almost made your knees buckle. He pulled away completely smirking at you. Without another word he turned away and walked in the direction of his dorm. He now knew what effect he had on you, he definitely planned to use it to get revenge for your shitty pranks.

You stood with your head leaned back against the door. What the fuck did you just start?