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fallloverfic · 1 month

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I know not everyone has read the Delicious in Dungeon World Guide: The Adventurer's Bible, but there's an interesting section I think even some folks who did missed when it comes specifically to Mithrun and what he can and cannot do in re: taking care of himself. Spoilers for the manga. (And obviously to each their own headcanon, but I'm just looking at what's in the canon text)

On p.73 of the Delicious in Dungeon World Guide: The Adventurer's Bible, there's this bit of text in Mithrun's character section, "Even though he has no desires, he still has routine habits, so he can handle everyday life on his own. However, when he's in a dungeon, he tends to neglect things like eating and sleeping." Nowhere in there does it say anything about him needing help to bathe or go to the bathroom. We know Cithis is assigned to look after him (so that he "doesn't collapse during missions." (p.82)). We know from Daydream Hour that he at least seemingly needed help to bathe while he was recovering. It's possible he's since gotten over this and can do it on his own (one targeted focus of Milsiril helping him was to get him to keep himself clean).

Another note is that while Cithis does kind of leave things vague when asking Kabru to "see to his needs" (p.144, Volume 9, Chapter 61), the only thing she specifically tells Kabru to do is make sure Mithrun eats. Kabru is the one who takes it a lot farther. And while, yes, carrying Mithrun to safety and making sure he rests properly is a lot more than feeding him, it's also not "make sure he goes to the bathroom regularly". You could argue Cithis was just being delicate or they didn't have time... But still. Cithis didn't say this. She just says, "Until we do, we'd like you to see to his needs. Food in particular! Three meals a day. If you feed him properly... ...we'll overlook this incident." And this matches what the Adventurer's Bible says. In the Cithis comic in the Adventurer's Bible, the only things we see Cithis telling Mithrun to do are: eat, sleep, and switch out his clothes. While the clothes thing is kind of a question mark (and probably a joke), again: the only things we really see him having an issue/getting help with are really eating and sleeping properly. Principally, while it's clear he does need more help than just someone to feed him... the things we see Kabru do are adjacent to his eating and sleeping properly. Mithrun doesn't register a need to rest or eat, so he doesn't sleep or ask for food until he collapses. He's unable to sleep without aid (and a foot massage, to my knowledge, does not solve "uncomfortable but ignored need to go the bathroom"). And he generally tends to overuse his magic until he collapses. He doesn't like... collapse because he just forgot to go to the bathroom for too long. Nor does Kabru seemingly indicate that he smells.

Additionally, what does Cithis say when Mithrun is using his magic a lot on floor one: "We'll have to make sure Captain Mithrun eats soon. Once we're finished here, let's get some food in town." (p.146, Volume 8, Chapter 55). Again... all roads lead back to: he forgets to eat and sleep properly at least some of the time, and his comrades have to keep an eye on him for that. But that seems to kind of be it.

Where I think folks might be getting confused is in trusting Kabru's estimation of things a bit too much, and I do understand why. After all, he's the massage feet guy! He kept them alive (with Mithrun's help)! He helped Mithrun choose to live on! He knows his stuff!

...But that doesn't mean that Kabru is always right. In fact, he's not right a number of times in the manga (e.g., when he's describing Past!Mithrun in the Adventurer's Bible, or when he's trying to convince Laios to wait without explaining what happened to Marcille).

But let's start at the beginning: the one set of panels where it's left sort of open-ended whether or not Mithrun needs help to remember to go to the bathroom:

(I personally imagine Mithrun just going along with it in the end might be due to the fact he's exhausted to the point of collapse, and just generally goes along with what other people want in these situations so long as it doesn't endanger his mission, such as with Cithis and Fleki)

I just think it's interesting it never seems to come up anywhere else that I'm aware of (even Daydream Hour doesn't show the caretakers going to that level of care, though I imagine he would at least need help getting out of his bonds to go to the bathroom), nor do we see how this specific scenario - Kabru literally dragging Mithrun out of bed to go to the bathroom while Mithrun protests he's doesn't need to go - turned out. The scene literally fades to black while they're running; not that I'd expect Kui to draw Mithrun doing his business or Kabru forcefully encouraging him to, but it does still leave it more open-ended than clear-cut. You could argue that because bathroom stuff grosses people out a lot (though I've seen shounen mangaka draw it so it's not like it's unheard of), bringing it up once and only once and solely for a gag works, but also only showing this much and not bringing it up again makes sense as well, so the fact that it isn't clear-cut + isn't brought up again doesn't necessarily mean that Kabru was wrong in his belief that Mithrun needed this help, so much as it's practical storytelling...

But also it still leaves open the idea that Kabru was wrong. Because while Kabru is often right about things, he isn't right all the time (especially when he panics). And one of the notable times he was panicking about something, Mithrun was the one who slapped him to his senses.

(I mean part of it was probably revenge for Kabru knocking him out at Sissel's home earlier but the point still stands). This isn't even the first time Mithrun calls out Kabru's wild imagination: it's technically the second/third.

Also as astroloquacious pointed out in the notes: Kabru's role model for caretaking was Milsiril, who was notably overbearing. Specifically before he is thrust into working with and then looking after Mithrun, he recalls a memory of Milsiril being overbearing in her caretaking of Kabru, and how he would rather stay in Merini with its dangers than return to that life. He probably internalized some of the stuff he disliked about her. And if Milsiril, who is a lot older than Kabru, can get stuff wrong about his needs, then who's to say that Kabru doesn't get stuff wrong about Mithrun's needs?

tldr; Believe what you want about this aspect of Mithrun's lifestyle. Not showing a thing doesn't make a heavily implied thing untrue. But I think the Adventurer's Bible is pretty clear. Also, according to the complete Adventurer's Bible, it seems Pattadol is still helping him a little post-Merini, and he's clearly not averse to having a helper (e.g., Fleki). I just don't think it's necessarily factual that Kabru is right in that Mithrun needs this level of care/attention in this particular area, particularly outside a dungeon.

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #kabru #mithrun #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #manga spoilers #dunmeshi plays a lot with truth and implication and reading between the lines #and I enjoy that a lot #I honestly enjoy the idea of exploring this aspect some caretaking involves #but I also hesitate to say that it's genuinely something Mithrun needs a caretaker for #especially with the info in the adventurer's bible #fallfthoughts

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izzyhandsrightglove · 8 months

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The Izzy Hands Is Autistic PowerPoint Essay

(this is the essay i submitted to the above all else zine (@izzyhandszines ), the exclusivity period of which just ended. enjoy!!)

Hello!!

I would like to start off by saying I’m absolutely fucking terrified to write this essay for a variety of reasons. But I want to express my love of Izzy Hands and how important he is to me, and the best way I’ve found to do so is to express the weird ways I relate to him as an autistic person. I’ve joked in a couple friend circles that I was going to make a PowerPoint presentation about why Izzy’s autistic (hence the title) but I decided to write an essay instead.

Disclaimer: I’m not diagnosing anyone, nor do I want this essay to be used as a diagnostic paper. This is by no means an academic paper, it cites exactly one (1) study, it’s based on my own experiences, light research, and the experiences of my fellow autistic friends. I’m just a dumbass who likes imprinting themselves onto the characters they hyperfixate on.

Reason one why I think Izzy is autistic: because I’m autistic and I said so. *cue end credits*

I’m kidding.

The real first reason comes from Izzy’s interactions with Stede FUKIN’ Bonnet. For one, Stede hates Izzy almost the second he meets him. Now, you could argue that it was because Izzy “stole” his hostages but we’ll set that aside for a sec. It’s been proven that people inherently don’t like autistic people if they don’t realize they’re autistic (Neurotypical Peers are Less Willing to Interact with Those with Autism Based on Thin Slice Judgements by Noah J. Sasson (2017)). Traits that are often put towards “untrustworthy” or “creepy” people tend to describe autistics too. It’s entirely possible Stede caught a vibe and hated Izzy because of it. Stede is kind of an asshole after all (and we still love him for it). Another reason is Stede’s entire existence throws a wrench in Izzy’s routines as a First Mate. He whisks Edward away to do pirate-y things while Izzy is left to deal with a crew who frankly want nothing to do with him because he’s introducing structure on a ship that didn’t have any to begin with. Sure Izzy came off as an asshole (emotional regulation is a bitch) but he’s just a lil guy trying to follow his routines so nobody dies. He has the worst case of sense of justice. He’ll complain that an ambush is “unprofessional”, he’ll play fair in a duel even if it’s to his detriment, he’ll chase Edward around asking for a plan because Bad Things happen without a plan, the list goes on.

I’d like to dedicate this section to his stimming/eye contact/other little habits that make me think he’s autistic. Izzy has a tendency to touch his face when he’s stressed. Not just that, he’ll wrap an arm around himself and rest his hand on his chin so he can fidget with his beard, as if to self soothe. When he’s talking to people, unless he’s threatening them or yelling at them, he doesn’t look them in the eye. Often he’s not even facing them. When he is facing them, he often looks down at their lips, as if he’s struggling with eye contact. He walks around with his hand resting on his sword either because he’s short and the sword will touch the ground if he doesn’t or because it’s more comfortable for him to have his arm up near his chest. This is often referred to as T-rex arms and a lot of us find it more comfortable than letting our arms rest at our sides. He’s a little pyromaniac, he seems to use candle fire to soothe himself. He’s done it at least twice, once while he was lying to Edward about Stede’s response to meeting Blackbeard and once while talking to Spanish Jackie about Stede in her bar. He sleeps in his underwear like a WHORE (affectionate) which could be argued is temperature regulation because a lot of autistics (myself included) H A T E being overheated. Then there’s the ooh daddy scene. From my little list I made prior to this essay, “ooh daddy scene (thank u conbert), yes i have an explainiation for this. a weird ass intimidation tactic? sure. however what if he can’t read social queues and doesn’t fully realize how fucking weird it was to do that”.

Then there’s his glove. I could dedicate an entire essay on speculation on that fucking glove. Is it hiding something? Is it just to look cool? Is it a sensory thing where he doesn’t like the texture of his sword so he wears the glove to make sword fighting easier? We may never know. Or we might in s2 who knows. Speaking of sword fighting it could be argued by me that because Izzy is supposed to be the best swordsman in the world, sword fighting could be his special interest. He probably spent hours perfecting every move until he got to the level of carving his name into a man’s shirt without leaving a single scratch on him.

We’ve seen Izzy have at least one meltdown re: the duel. He’s losing the duel, the crew are jeering at him, Stede isn’t helping, he finally screams at him before his sword breaks. We’ve also seen him have a shutdown where after Edward goes below deck after realizing his plan against the Spanish isn’t going to work because it’s a leap year, Izzy is in the foreground of Frenchie and Lucius staring off into space. It’s possible that after everything he went through that day and the realization that he’s going to die made him completely shut down.

I have no proof of this since we never really see izzy by himself but I don’t believe in the entire time Izzy has been subjected to the constant torture of being alive and autistic in the late 1600 early 1700s he has unmasked even once. When living in such close quarters with other people and being First Mate to the physical embodiment of ADHD he probably doesn’t get a lot of time to himself. Therefore he has to cope with his existence in other ways, as mentioned above. And the crew of The Revenge have ruined almost every way he uses to cope and manage his autism. We’ll have to wait and see what other horrors unfold for this poor little autistic man, but for now all we can do is pick him apart and see what’s under the hood.

#above all else zine #izzy hands

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thebloggerbloggerfun · 3 years

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@jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time @katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

LINK

Thanks for letting me write this, guys!!

AO3 (2.1k)

The thing about Heaven was that it was whatever you wanted it to be, and most of its residents wanted it to be familiar.

Technically, Dean didn’t need to fill his car up on gas anymore, but there was still a gas station just down the street from where his new home was placed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still had a large king-sized bed he made sure to make use of at least once a day. He didn’t need to eat, but there was a thriving supermarket that catered to whatever he was feeling like eating and always boasted the freshest ingredients for when he wanted to get a little fancy with his cooking.

Like today, for example.

Bobby had said he doubted Dean could make a proper souffle, so obviously Dean had to make the old man eat his words - and a souffle.

Dean stared at all of the different options of eggs, trying to decide if “free-range” vs. “organic” actually meant anything in Heaven, or if it was just meant to give him some sort of familiarity.

He grabbed the “free-range” option and moved on to the dairy.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye in the meat section across the way, and the way his heart stopped in his chest when he turned to look would have killed him if he wasn’t already dead.

It was Cas.

Cas, who Dean had spent every day thinking about since he’d left. Cas, who Dean had been trying to find ever since Bobby told him he was still around. Cas, who Dean still had unfinished business with.

He’d spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room and rehearsing just what he’d say when he saw him again, but in those scenarios Cas had shown up on his doorstep or in the passenger seat of his car where they could have a moment to just be .

He’d never been buying hamburger meat.

Dean rushed forward, cart forgotten, and skidded to a halt in front of Cas, just as he looked up in surprise.

“I love you -” Dean said in a rush, heart pounding, head reeling, “Of course I love you. You’re - fuck - you’re everything I could ever want and I’m - I’m so damn sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have me, too.”

Cas blinked at him, and it was in that moment Dean realized something was wrong.

His expression, his hair, the way he moved, the way he was dressed - all of it was wrong.

None of it was Cas, he’d just been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Oh, uh... hey Dean,” Not-Cas said, and finished putting his selected meat in his basket, “I didn’t didn’t know that you died. Um, if you’re looking for Castiel -“

Dean turned and ran out of the store.

What were the fucking chances that in all of Heaven, he and Cas’s old vessel were neighbors?

Dean gunned the gas pedal on his car as he drove endlessly, trying to walk himself through what exactly had happened the day before.

Jimmy Novak was here.

Jimmy Novak who - last Dean checked - hated him.

Dean had just spewed his feelings all over him without even thinking about the possibility that he wasn’t Cas. He’d been wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud - but he was willing to forgive himself for that one because he didn’t really know how Cas would dress if he had the choice.

His hopes had soared so high when he’d seen the familiar figure, only to be dashed the moment Jimmy had opened his mouth. They sounded absolutely nothing alike - and Dean yearned for the deep gravel of Castiel’s greeting.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened.

Where was Cas?

Didn’t he know that there was nothing keeping them apart now?

In what could only be an act of fate smiling down on him, Dean zoomed around a corner near the Heavenly library, and instantly had to stomp on the brakes of the Impala as a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped into the previously empty crosswalk.

Old habits die hard - Dean was still going to brake for Heavenly pedestrians, especially ones that looked like Cas.

Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Dean shoved the driver’s side door open in a panic. The trench coat was unmistakable this time.

“Cas! Cas - don’t go okay? I gotta -“

Cas shook his head sharply and let out a breath.

“No - Jesus Christ - it’s still me, you idiot.”

Dean gaped at him as his brain tried to catch up with the conflicting bits of information it was processing.

“...what?” He heard himself saying.

Had he just wanted it to be Cas so bad that he’d ignored all the signs?

Jimmy gestured at himself like it was enough of an explanation.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“But - but you’re wearing his trenchcoat! ” Dean said, waved at it like maybe Jimmy hadn’t realized he was walking around as the mockery of the angel who’d once shared a living space with him.

Jimmy placed an affronted hand on his own chest.

“It was my trenchcoat!”

Frustration boiled inside of him and Dean quickly slid back into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sped off, once again running from what could have been.

Dean was sulking under a pile of blankets in his bed when there was a knock at his door.

He ignored it.

After a few moments of silence, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time.

Grumbling to himself, Dean threw the blankets off and trudged down the stairs, flinging open the door with a scowl.

A person with nearly combed hair was standing on the doorstep holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and had a sticker on his shirt that said, ‘Hello, my name is Jimmy’.

“Very funny.” Dean said flatly.

“It’s not funny. It’s just in case you try to kiss me or something.” Jimmy held up the six-pack expectantly. “Can I come in?”

Dean didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but he didn’t mind the beer.

And after accosting him twice he might as well let the guy do what he wanted.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbled and left the door open as he walked back inside and flopped onto his couch. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me?”

Jimmy hummed as he set the beer down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Dean.

“I don’t not hate you.” He said with a shrug. “But last time we talked you were trying to convince me to chain myself to a comet again and I can’t say I appreciated it.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s nice here. I take a yoga class with my wife.” Jimmy smiled at him. “I think I’m in a much better mental space now to consider liking you, especially if we’re going to be neighbors.”

Dean winced.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like Jimmy, it was just… that was Cas’s face. It wasn’t , but it was. Was he really going to have to be constantly taunted with it?

“Look man - I’m sorry about - you know. That.” Dean waved a hand in the air generally. “But you don’t have to do all this. I’ll stop harassing you.”

“That would be nice,” Jimmy said, opening one of the cans and taking a swig, “So, considering the things you’ve said to me, I take it he finally told you he loved you?”

Dean paused, still raw every time he thought about it.

“You knew?”

Jimmy smirked.

“That angel’s love for you permeated both of our beings so potently I’m amazed I don’t love you.” Jimmy said, like it was the kind of fact you could drop casually. “Though even I will admit, as a happily married heterosexual man, that having a man as handsome as you proclaim your love to me in the middle of a grocery store was very exciting.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jimmy said, “That first one was pretty good. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

“He’s never gonna hear it.” Dean muttered.

“Sure he will. You’ve already practiced it twice.”

“I can’t find him!” Dean said, and looked back up, “He’s here somewhere, and I can’t find him. It’s killing me.”

Jimmy held out a beer can.

“Good thing you’re already dead.”

Begrudgingly, Dean accepted the beer and opened it.

“I just. . . I just wanna see him again.” Dean took a long drink. “I want to talk to him. Tell him everything. Share everything. If he wants that.”

Dean let out a long breath, expecting Jimmy to interject with a quip.

He looked over at him when nothing happened, and Jimmy was smiling at him in a way that Dean could only describe as ‘fond’.

“What?” Dean said, indignantly.

“Nothing.” Jimmy said innocently. “You’re just not what I expected.”

Dean looked away.

“Anyway, you asked why I’m here,” Jimmy took another drink, “I’ve seen Castiel.”

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet, beer can dropped to the floor and forgotten about. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I’m an enigma,” Jimmy shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the plush chair, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as someone who has literally been in Castiel’s head - I'm pretty sure I know the reason he’s not showing himself to you.”

“Well, fucking spill.”

Jimmy paused.

“Why do you love him?”

Of all the things Dean had been expecting Jimmy to say - this wasn’t it.

Dean sat back down.

“Why?” He asked, a little breathless. “Why does it matter?”

Jimmy shrugged again.

“I guess -” Dean said, trying to unspool his emotions from the knot they’d made in his heart, “He’s - he’s Cas. He cares . . . so much about everyone and - and he’s selfless and kind and he fucking saved me in more ways than just one. He’s always been there for me and Sam and he’s just… he’s just. He’s just good . I’ll never deserve him, but I want to try.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath.

“He pulls me away from the edge, man. I just love him.”

Jimmy nodded once, set down his beer can, and in a bizarre turn of events, began yelling at Dean’s ceiling.

“Did you hear that, Castiel? Not one goddamn thing about how you look! Nothing about me or my vessel!”

Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Wh-”

“He doesn’t care what you look like! Can you please just come talk to him so I can stop playing marriage counselor for you two?”

Care how he - what?

What was happening?

Before Dean could fully compile all of the new information, there was a hesitant knock at the front door.

Dean whipped his head towards Jimmy, who was smiling in satisfaction.

Nearly tripping over himself, Dean rushed to the door faster than he’d rushed towards anything in his life, and swung it open.

In front of him was the wavelength of celestial intent that Dean had always known existed inside of the vessel of Jimmy Novak - the glint of angelic creation he’d caught glimpses of in the glow of his eyes and in his healing touch. The being was massive and stretched high into the sky with what was (maybe three? four??) pairs of wings scraping the clouds even further above everything. He was flaming rings and rotating divine faces that Dean could barely comprehend - he was raw power and all-knowing eyes.

On the front of his form was a sticker that read, ‘Hello, my name is Castiel’.

“. . . Hello Dean.” The voice rumbled through the air like thunder.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I - yes. I’m sorry. I lost my vessel to the Empty - this was the only way -”

“I love you, too.”

The rotating faces on the form towering above him froze in place.

“I do! I love you, Cas. Okay? You didn’t let me say it back before - and if I’ve ever made you feel like I couldn’t love you back, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

“. . . you love me?”

Dean nodded, his heart clenching at the disbelief he could hear in Cas’s voice.

“ Even as this?”

“You’ve always been this.” Dean swallowed. “I fell in love with the angel, not the vessel.”

“Dean. . .”

Dean smiled up at him in understanding.

“Just a shame that we’ll have to get a bigger house.”

“Oh I can -”

And as Dean looked on, Castiel began to shrink. The form didn’t change - he was still as striking as he’d been the first time with his wings and halos and faces still firmly in place - but he was now maybe one foot taller than Dean instead of one hundred.

“- make myself more manageable.”

Dean grinned and took a step forward, giddy and thrilled that this was finally, actually happening

He reached up, resting a hand on one of the divine faces.

“Bite-sized.” He murmured fondly.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind them.

“Just so you two know - I. Am. Moving!”

#spn #destiel #destiel ficlet #spn coda #jimmy novak #akasdflks I barely know what this is guys I'm sorry #sometimes I write

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applesontheground · 3 years

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Riri!! ~ oml okay this is a shot in the dark but like... mm. Okay. May I please request any of the Sinclairs with a uni student reader? Drinks too much coffee, sleeps 5 - 6 hours a night & when they wake up, they're grabbing coffee & going straight into it without really waking up first & when they wanna take a break or whatever, they specifically spend time with the Sinclairs before they carry on bc Sinclairs = love = motivation? This is v niche & specific but I just wanna read some student reader things hhhhh😩😩😩you don't have to do this if you don't wanna!!!!!💗💗💗💗 On this note though, my req's are always open if you ever wanna drop smthn in!!!💗💗💗

erika omg! hello! 🥺 as a fellow uni student who also has an unhealthy caffeine dependency and a beyond fucked sleep schedule, i'd be glad to! ♡😂

i love all three of them too much, so you're getting all three. no sinclair left behind. 😊

[Y/M] = Your Major

headcanons - The Sinclair Brothers with a College Student S/O (GN Reader) 🕯️

Bo 🛠

☆ This is just me, but I like to think if Bo did anything after public education, he went to a bit of trade school to learn a few things for the odd jobs he wanted to know about and do around town. So, while he’s not familiar with university life or the college experience as a whole, he has a little bit of semblance of what a student goes through. He hunts them for sport sometimes, after all. ☆ Going after something you want to do? Sure thing, honey. He’s listening to you describe what you went over or a dumb moment that happened in class, venting about assignments/professors, etc. Sometimes he listens, sometimes he just likes the sound of your voice. It becomes a nightly routine depending on how much you have to say about it. ...But if you start pushing yourself too far while pursuing it? Slow your roll, cowboy. ☆ The only two people allowed to be sleep deprived under his roof are him and Vincent (and even that took a fight and a half between them before Bo gave up), so don’t be surprised when he’s literally hauling you to bed whenever he’s ready regardless of your status on homework. If you’ve said anything about deadlines, he’s an either bigger stickler. “‘s after midnight. Nothin’s due until tomorrow, right? Think it can wait.” ☆ If you’re shaking or sick from too much caffeine, he’d be adamant about trying to persuade you in another direction for that, too. He’d even get a little controlling and defensive for your health over any sort of assignment/college course you could be in. It’s not worth it in his eyes, not even close, and that’s a hill he will die on each time. ☆ Lots of study sessions in his lap, the both of you snug on the recliner at the end of the night, you cramming from a textbook while he’s watching something on TV, the closeness being enough comfort for both of you. You’ve caught his eyes downcast here and there, reading parts of the book in passing, but never called him on it.

Vincent 🎨

☆ Again, just me, but Vincent did go to college. Maybe he went to just get an Associate’s before getting pulled back to the *bo voice* wax sculpture thing, but he’d be the most sympathetic to your role of a student. ☆ The workshop would become your study hideout. It’s a perfect place to be left alone for the most part -- besides Vincent idly working, playing some old classical or opera CDs he has around the place. ☆ He also has a habit of embedding into his work, so at first you two would be a collective mess. As mentioned with Bo’s section, man rarely sleeps and prefers to stay up during the night. He’s adapted to those extreme stretches of not doing much besides working downstairs or coming up to help Bo deal with people. ☆ At the same time, if he glances over and notices you slumped over a book/notes, barely functioning and running on fumes, he’d be pausing in his own work to check on you. ☆ S/O: “Oh, so you can work on a sculpture for hours on end, but I can’t cram for this test for another hour??” Vincent, with tight hand movements: “Do as I say, not as I do.” ☆ You might even find Vincent setting things aside, changing his schedule that he’s had longer than he can remember, to make sure you’re not starving or sleep deprived. He won’t sleep, necessarily, but he would start taking you to bed at a certain hour. He’d also be keen to deadlines like Bo. If it’s past midnight, you’re going to bed with him. You can’t bullshit someone who’s been there before, after all...

Lester 🦌

☆ School did not come easy for Lester, but he’s always found people who choose to keep going after high school to be insane (affectionate). He looked up to the twins for their own endeavors in this (playing into the ideas I’ve discussed), and that goes the same for you! Look at you you funky little academic. ☆ You’ll find him catching a glance at what you’re studying and giving it a dirty look, saying shit like, ��What th’hell is that word even doin’ there? What’s an ‘overimitation’? Extra imitation? Why they need extra?” ☆ At the same time, he loves it when you actually tell him what all that means. He rambles to you all the time, so you best believe he gives that sort of respect back. He especially likes it when you’re really excited about what you’re dedicating a significant part of your free time to. That he does sympathize with. ☆ He’d brag to people he lures into Ambrose. “Yeah, I’ve heard of that. My [Mrs./Mr./Sweetpea] studies [Y/M], you know...” I have a headcanon he absorbs random facts he’s heard like it’s nothing, so he’d just be the same old guy but now knows a lot about what you learn about day in and day out lol. ☆ Like Bo, he wouldn’t let you overextend yourself if he could help it. While he isn’t one to literally take you away from your studying, he’d be pestering you to the point where you can’t focus and have to take a break. He is a younger brother, after all. If you won’t come to bed with him willingly, he’s just gonna be over your shoulder, reading what you’re doing aloud right in your ear and smiling in a way that you can’t stay mad at when you finally try to shoo him away.

#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #the sinclair brothers #slasher requests #requests #headcanons #✏️#🕯️#ajokeformur-ray #like. just to clarify. i do NOT think lester is dull. he's just not very booksmart.#he knows the ins and outs of a lot of outdoor-based activities -- and definitely knows a thing or two about killing obviously #but i was worried i came off like that when i was writing his section ;;

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bittermuire · 3 years

Text

A (long) analysis of Azriel,

+ a bit of discussion about Gwynriel vs. Elriel at the end.

Lately I’ve seen much discussion surrounding Azriel, and there seems to be a lot of hazy gray area. We know he has a terrible past, carries a lot of trauma, is both mentally and physically scarred, and has disturbingly possessive habits. But why? That’s the question.

I think most of Azriel’s character can be filtered into three sections: his anger, his possessiveness, and his self-loathing. Altogether I believe these form his crippling sense of emotional immaturity, which ultimately shines through most every action he makes in the books.

So yes, I firmly believe Az is a child in the body of a 500 year old Fae. But is he treated as such? No. No, he is not. In fact, he’s treated as the exact opposite, and that can’t be doing wonders for his mental health (which is already in shambles. Off to a cheery start.)

Let’s take a look at his past. He was both mentally and physically abused for the majority of his childhood. Then he was thrown into an unforgiving culture that both mentally and physically abused him as well. Then he was essentially bullied by Cassian and Rhysand for quite a while... until they randomly decided to like him, which is a choice he didn’t seem to play a hand in. And then he became a professional torturer. All the while falling madly in love and becoming obsessed with a female who can’t love him back. Not to mention he’s been ostracized his entire life.

(One big thing though, that I’m going to reference frequently, is Azriel’s constant chase of “happiness.” Kind of like my friends with ADHD. We squeeze all the serotonin we can get out of one thing and then fall into a listless, depressed haze until we find another. I honestly think Azriel does the same thing with people--he latches onto them and lets his mood swings rely on how much attention they do or do not pay him, and whether it is positive or negative.)

So I’m going to go through his relationships with pivotal characters and try to explain what I think is really going on with Azriel.

Regarding Mor:

He was obsessed with her for most of his life. He was incredibly possessive of her and fell instantly in love upon seeing her. Do I think it was love? No. But does Azriel think it was love? Yes, and that is so important. It shows how desperate he was for human connection.

This “love” spiraled into centuries-long obsession that we’ve all seen play out throughout the series. But why is it obsession, and not love? Well, I’m going to go ahead and say that Azriel doesn’t know how to love. He’s never been shown genuine love and so he doesn’t know how to show it to others in the way he intends. He’s basically a baby.

But right after he falls head over heels, Mor sleeps with Cassian, and then Cassian plays the role of the buffer between the two of them all the way up until the events of ACOSF. This is where I think Azriel’s anger comes into play. He can’t get to Mor. His best friend, his brother, is blocking him from her. He can’t touch her, love her, feel her, and he’s so desperate to. But he literally has no way to communicate it because he doesn’t know how, and so he responds in the one way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. And intense protectiveness that eventually begins to translate as possessiveness.

Again, he lets his happiness rely on Mor because he can’t make himself happy, and so his lack of emotional maturity ends up revealing him as desperate and unable to communicate his feelings of inadequacy and frustration. I’m not trying to justify his behavior, not at all. But I think this could be a decent explanation.

Regarding Cassian and Rhysand:

I mean... I kind of hate the way these two have treated Azriel. They all have their fair share of trauma, but Cassian and Rhys also bullied him and ostracized him, and then basically said, “Oh, we like you now.” Which completely leaves Azriel in the dark as to where he stands with them, and strips him of awareness regarding how his friendships with them will operate.

And then he becomes the head of espionage for the Night Court, which involves lots and lots of torture. What kind of message does that send? You’ve seen dirty things, Az, so you don’t mind doing the rest of the dirty things for us, right? That’s the only real message I can get from this. Which then plants the message in Azriel’s head of: Not only do I do dirty things, I myself am a dirty, disgusting thing. Thus, furthering his already deep-seated sense of self-loathing.

Plus, the IC generally operates with a pack-like mindset. One person’s method of healing is everyone’s method of healing. It worked for one person, so it worked for everyone. It’s a very naive mindset, and very toxic as well, so it’s not surprising that literally everyone in the IC is colossally messed up despite preaching themselves as having overcome their demons.

So Azriel never really gets to understand himself and mature as a person. He’s stuck pretending to be perfectly fine underneath Rhysand’s oh-so-benevolent and compassionate hand. Rhysand and Cassian recognize Az as being a little... odd, by seeming to think things like “he’s the quiet one” and “he’s the serious, scary one.” But do they attempt to understand him? No. They leave him to his own devices and let him figure it out himself.

That’s the issue. He’s not ever going to figure it out himself, so long as he’s surrounded by the people who’ve been unwittingly suffocating him for most of his life.

Regarding Elain:

Azriel’s infatuation with Elain, in my opinion, comes as a direct result of his detachment from Mor. Just like one hyperfixation fades quickly from an all-consuming thing to a passing thought, Azriel has shifted from one obsession to the next, in order to keep his spirits on a high.

But I think his feelings for Elain reveal a lot of what Mor did not. Why does he view Elain as so holy compared to him? Why is he so hesitant to touch her? Why does he put her on such a pedestal? That’s his self-loathing coming through again. He hates himself so much that he has to place her above him.

He wants to touch her and love her, just as he did with Mor, but again he is unable. It's a repeating pattern that he can’t get himself out of.

Let’s also look at the way Elain and Azriel’s friendship/relationship began. He had to take care of her, and treat her with utmost respect. She looked at his scars or his siphons, both monstrous looking things, and called them beautiful. Let’s remember that he’s basically a child who’s rarely known genuine love. The minute he gets a glimpse of it, he’s going to grab it by the neck and crush it to his chest. Plus, the fact that she’s the last sister left unattached and he’s the last brother left unattached is probably even more convincing for him that he and Elain are meant for each other. When he’s denied this love that’s come nearly close enough to grab, he responds in the only way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. Just like he did with Mor.

But moving on, that glimpse of potential love comes from Elain. That’s why he’s able to let go of Mor; a relationship with Elain suddenly becomes possible. He’s terrified of ruining this potential love and is incredibly drawn to her all the same. Best of all? She wants him too.

BUT. Azriel knows how fragile Elain is, so he walks on glass around her, coddling her, putting her first like he’s put everyone else first since being a part of the IC. I think he wants to save her from becoming like him. He essentially plays the role of her white knight, entirely losing his sense of self-preservation (not that he ever had one), and thus loses any chance of letting Elain help him mature in return.

Regarding Gwyn:

Now, Gwyn is a different story.

We know Azriel likes her. Maybe not in a consciously romantic way, but he likes her. She makes him smile and laugh, and he finds her amusing. He doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around her.

The big thing, I think, is that he doesn’t have to take care of her. At least, I think that’s what makes him so comfortable around her. With Gwyn, he can relax, and he doesn’t have to watch every move he makes. She treats him like a regular person and he treats her similarly.

Now, is it a bad thing that he doesn’t put her on a saint-like pedestal like he does Elain? No. Definitely not. I think this ordinary friendship signals a much healthier relationship than his festering obsession with Elain. Gwyn simply being his friend and not someone that he feels he has to be perfect for is a good foundation for Azriel growing as a person.

Gwynriel vs. Elriel (the necklace):

Honestly, I’m scared for whatever SJM decides to do, because Azriel has a shitload of trauma to move past and years worth of emotional growth needed before he can be a steady partner in a relationship. Both Gwyn and Elain’s character arcs are definitely not finished and so I think that no matter which way his narrative goes, it’s going to be disappointing in some aspect or another, unfortunately. I don’t think that either one of the females’ arcs really fit well with Azriel’s.

But I’m going to take a closer look at the necklace, because I think it’s a telling narrative point.

For Azriel, the necklace for Elain and Gwyn herself, are both “thing[s] of secret, lovely beauty” to him.

By describing the necklace for Elain as such (instead of Elain herself), Azriel unconsciously reveals his more idealistic view of Elain rather than his love for Elain herself. I kind of get the sense of Azriel giving offerings to a goddess, or something like that. He seems to be more preoccupied with appeasing Elain than actually loving her.

Now, this probably comes from, again, his self-loathing and his emotional immaturity. I’m just repeating myself at this point. He doesn’t know how to love himself and he doesn’t know how to love anyone else.

But then he describes Gwyn as such. Gwyn, the person. In my opinion, this demonstrates a potentially much healthier relationship than what he has with Elain. Azriel, instead of wanting to be perfect for Gwyn and wanting to appease her, is simply made happy by the thought of her. It is Gwyn whom he is taken with, not the idea of Gwyn loving him. And so that takes off so much pressure for him, and introduces the hope that he might be able to mature as a person in a friendship or romantic relationship with Gwyn.

Closing thoughts:

Azriel is a blundering, hormonal child desperate for love with no idea of how to get it, in a 500 year old Fae’s body. He’s also surrounded by people who refuse to address his clear issues... his future’s pretty dim, and I think he realizes it. Which is why whoever SJM chooses to be his romantic interest is going to be very important.

In short, I’m scared for what’s to come. But fingers crossed that his incredibly complex character is done justice.

#azriel #acotar #character analysis #gwynriel #kind of anti elriel #but open to interpretation

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norarigby · 3 years

Text

Ushijima Wakatoshi - The Late Nights

The Little Black Box Masterlist

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader (technically gender neutral, but it is mentioned that the reader has long hair so keep that in mind)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, talking about feelings?

Word count: ~1k

A/n: hmm, again, I don’t love how this turned out, but it has its moments. Ushijima was hard to think of for this kind of thing, but I think I came up with a mediocre concept.

Ushijima didn’t really understand what had you in such a fit of laugher in this moment. Your head was thrown back as silent giggles left your mouth. You had only had a few sips but Ushijima was sure that you were going to fall over at any moment now. And even if he didn’t understand why, a smile flitted across his lips as he watched you.

He guess it might’ve had something to do with the wine you had smuggled with you. You both had rushed out of the Olympic Village so quick he must’ve not seen the bottle peaking out of the bag.

The Olympics had been exhausting for Ushijima, and rightly so. The workouts were brutal and the constant pressure of trying to be the best was taking a slight toll on the spiker. Over the past few weeks, you had noticed his mental health starting to tank. So in a burst of spontaneity, you had shown up with a bag in hand to drag him away for a late night date. He grumbled while putting his shoes on, but you knew that he was secretly overjoyed to spend time with you and take his mind off the stress for a while.

You had found some park on the outskirts of Tokyo to have your picnic date. You had brought a nice blanket to sit on and as you unpacked the bag, Ushijima was surprised to say the least when he had found his favorite meal laid out in front of him—you promised you wouldn’t tell Iwaizumi or his personal trainer, jokingly adding that calories eaten after 10PM didn’t count.

Throughout the dinner, Ushijima expressed his frustrations and exhaustion while you listened to his dutifully. When prompted, you would even add your own advice or reassurance. He wasn’t very good with his feelings, but he had been getting better. It helped how patient and understanding you had been with him, not just during the dinner but ever since the two of you started dating.

So as the topic shifted to something much for trivial, Ushijima felt as though a weight had been lifted off of him. It was nice to have someone to just listen to you and let you know that you were doing alright. He had never really known how nice it was to just let it all out to understanding ears. So even if it was hours past the time he should be in bed, it didn’t matter. He knew this time with you was worth it.

Especially as you wiped the tears from your eyes, finally calming down from laughing about whatever you had found so hilarious. But he still hadn’t figured out why you were laughing so hard. The curiosity was killing him, “What’s so funny?”

You sent him a playful look a disbelief, “You! Why am I just now finding out that you still sleep with a volleyball plushie?”

“It’s comfortable,�� He sat back so his weight was resting on his hands, “Besides, I’m sure you have your own ‘embarrassing’ habits.”

“Nope, not a single one. I don’t have a single embarrassing bone in my body.”

His eyebrow quirked up and he smirked, “Is that so? So what about the Adlers sweatshirt you hide in your closet every time I come over? Or the keychain of mini me you hide in your purse? Or the-“

“That’s enough!” You tackled him to the ground, silencing his confession. You hovered over him while glaring daggers into his skull. But your face softened into a small smile when you saw how amused he was. “How did you even know about those in the first place?”

He chuckled and tucked a section of your hair behind your ear, “My dear, you’re not very good at hiding things from me.”

You groaned and fell onto his chest, too embarrassed to come up with a response. Ushijima, pleased that he had one-upped your teasing, pulled you closer to his chest and rubbed circles into your back.

These soft moments with Ushijima were semi rare, mostly because of his busy schedule. Regardless, you always made sure to savor anything you got with him. So even though you felt a tad bit embarrassed, you sighed and sank into his embrace.

But this moment was cut particularly short when you felt something on the back of your neck. You pushed up on his chest, “‘Toshi, did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

Almost comically, it began to downpour out of nowhere. You and Ushijima stared at each other for a moment before scrambling to get everything and run to the car. Meanwhile, your laughter and shrieks rang through the air joined by Ushijima’s own low chuckles.

Slamming the car doors shut there was a moment of silence. Then the two of you broke out into laughter again. As Ushijima calmed down a bit, he held your face in his hands and gave you a chaste kiss. Although, the kiss wasn’t exactly great. You were still giggling and he couldn’t stop his lips from smiling. But he still tried to make it somewhat romantic and loving.

You held his hands in your own, leaning your forehead against his. Closing your eyes, you hummed as the last giggles escaped your lips, “‘m sorry that ended with the rain. I should’ve checked the weather. Hopefully, you won’t get sick.”

“I would get sick a hundred times if it meant I got to be with you.”

“Aw, ‘Toshi,” You whined. “You’re getting too soft. It’s making me flustered.”

You tried to pull away, but his hands held you in place, “I mean it, y/n.”

You sighed, “I love you too.” Placing a kiss on the inside of his palm, you pulled away to start the car. “Now let’s get you back so you can get dry and warm.”

There was more Ushijima wanted to say. But he wasn’t very good with words anyhow. So as you started drove back, he let his mind wander. He thought about what you’d done for him and how he couldn’t imagine a life without you. While holding your hand, he also thought about how better it would feel if you had a band on your ring finger.

Ushijima wasn’t very good with words. So he hoped you would understand everything he felt could be described by the little box that was in his jacket pocket and the question he was determined to ask you tonight.

(Posted March 11, 2021 11:57AM MST)

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sorryimanon · 4 years

Text

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state.

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

#mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bnha izuku #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya headcanons #deku x you #deku x reader

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crystallizedkingdoms · 2 years

Text

this is yesterday’s fic for @johann-appreciation-week that I could not complete on time bc I saw mitski live! it was wonderful, and I am once again reminded of how much love i have for her and her songs and how she inspires me to write :)

it’s a johavi fic today! the mandatory “second day johavi fic that’s written from Avi’s pov but hes appreciation johann to the fullest so it still counts!” he is also shirtless in this one, bc I am bisexual.

today’s/yesterday’s song: Because Dreaming Costs Money, My Dear (Retired from Sad, New Career in Business, 2013)

word count: 1,139

Avi listens to Johann play his violin when no one else will. He knows that it helps Johann deal with the constant mourning of sending his compositions off to be fed to the Voidfish. That, of course, he’s glad he can help with. Though, in a more selfish admittance… It makes Avi feel special.

Few would describe Johann’s face as serene when he is deep in concentration. Many see it as a hardened expression, a face of dissatisfaction, or terrible melancholy of a musician letting whatever music he can escape from its terrible fate. That may be some part of it, in certain circumstances. But when Avi is laying down on Johann’s bed, watching his boyfriend play as softly as he could next to the bed, he sees nothing but serenity.

“You look tired. Want me to stop?“ Johann asks. It is barely a whisper, but Avi catches it.

“No, not at all. Keep going, if you can.”

“Of course I can. I can play until the sun rises.” Johann speaks as he plays, a type of multitasking Avi simply has not been able to understand. You couldn’t get Avi to speak if his life depended on it while he was working on something.

Avi breathes out a laugh, still staring up at Johann. He wears an oversized shirt that is not his own— he in fact stole it the night before from Avi— though his legs were bare. His preferred sleepwear.

“I wouldn’t let you. I’d drag you down here and make you sleep,” he says. His voice is light, his words almost said in a joking manner, but both know he isn’t joking. They’ve been trying to improve Johann’s sleeping habits, one little concert at a time.

Johann doesn’t comment on that. He doesn’t have to. Instead, he continues playing his gentle piece. There isn’t a name to it. Over a year of feeding the Voidfish, Johann has grown fearful of naming what he’s proud of, but Avi doesn’t need a name for it. He knows that this specific sonata, with how it feels so heartbreakingly warm and lovely, is one written for him. And him alone.

So, you see, you couldn’t blame him. Avi simply couldn’t help feeling very special. Who else would have the greatest violinist in the entire world writing sonatas about and for him, some engineer who shot people out of cannons on the moon for a living?

“How long did this one take?” Avi asks as he rests his cheek on his propped up hand. The blankets that previously covered him now slip off his bare shoulders, revealing that he is, in fact, shirtless. He catches Johann’s eyes as they wander over to him, and hears the faint sound of a note gone wrong. Johann tears his glance away and pretends the slip up never happened, but it forces a huge, dumb smile on Avi.

“Just the past week,” Johann hums with indifference. Avi doesn’t know of any other musicians other than his boyfriend, especially one that could match Johann’s level, so he can’t judge whether that’s a normal amount of time to write something as wonderful as this. It did help to know, however, that the ones he makes for the Voidfish can be written in under a day.

Avi closes his eyes for a few moments when he notices something. “You’re repeating.”

…

“Yes, that section. You’ve done it before. That’s the one you fed the Void the other day, isn’t it?” he questions. Johann rarely repeats those things if he can help it, especially not so close to each other.

“I… didn’t mean it. I wrote it thinking of you by accident, but then the… um… sorry,” Johann trails off into the apology, and so did his music.

That made Avi panic a little. He immediately sits up and opens his eyes. “You don’t have to say sorry. I’m not mad or anything. Seriously. Just surprised me to hear it,” he explains quickly.

A sigh. Johann sits on the bed next to Avi’s legs and places his violin to the side. “I’ll admit I’ve been having some trouble… doing my job recently. Both for the Bureau and for you.”

“What’s up?” Avi stretches his hand towards Johann. He takes it, his fingers rubbing the small tattoos on Avi’s fingers. That’s comforting for both of them.

“Do you think I’m burning out? It’s gotten a little hard doing all of this, watching my work get eaten. I love that you’re here, and that you listen, it really does help. Though, I do wonder if I am reaching my limit. All musicians do some day. Perhaps my peak is over.”

Avi shakes his head and pulls Johann closer. “Johann, even if you were past your prime— and you’re not— you’d still be way out of this world’s league,” Avi assures. Way out of my league, is left unspoken.

“I think anyone would be discouraged about what you put up with, Johann. I don’t think anyone would’ve lasted as long as you. Especially since our job is almost done… we don’t know what happens with the Voidfish, and your songs, after this. It’s awful, but you still do it. You still do it because you know you can make wonderful music even after this, right?”

Johann nods, “Yeah, of course I can.” He leans his head against Avi’s bare chest, and Avi can’t help but notice how hot the cheek grows almost instantly.

“Are you saying that because you believe it or because you think it would make me feel better?”

“…I believe it. Duh. Can't think of anyone else who could do better than me.”

Avi lays his head on Johann, ignoring the little groan that is made when he presses too far into those curls. “It’s okay, Johann. This block will pass and you’ll make wonderful music the whole world will hear,” he says. He can't promise it, he’s just the guy who mans the cannons. He’s not even sure what job he’ll get when the Bureau of Balance’s mission is done.

What he does know is that he will be with Johann.

“I think… I would be fine, if the world didn’t hear my music.”

“Oh?”

Johann looks up at Avi, moving their hands so he could reach up to Avi’s cheek. “I think I would be fine if it was only you that heard my music… ever. I could make all the music in the world for you,” he says. Then he leans up and kisses Avi on the lips. It would be a lie to say it is a chaste kiss, as Johann soon pushed Avi’s back down onto the bed to continue the kiss, but it is as gentle and lovely as the sonata he performed.

Avi feels incredibly special during the entirety of the night.

#johann appreciation week #taz johann #taz balance #johavi #my writing

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a-child-in-the-garden · 2 years

Text

Put a Little Faith in Me

Hi, this makes me nervous to post, but here goes.

This goes out to all my plus-size babes. If you’re anything like me, you’ve found your size to be the reason for trouble in your dating life. Whether your own insecurity, or the hurtful words of others, or being looked over because of society’s standards of what a person (particularly women) should look like. I’ve seen some more body-positive fics recently (Such as this one I just read recently by @greatervanfleet ! ) and I think it’s so good and so important to write more plus-size representation into romantic stories. It can be so hard to think of ourselves as beautiful and worthy of being desired. If you find writing about a negative body image to be triggering, please don’t read this, but I’ve found that this type of fiction has really helped me to remember my desirability. HOWEVER, I don’t want anyone to think that the male gaze is what makes or breaks their beauty. You’re stunning exactly as you are, and you don’t need anyone else to prove that to you. As usual, this is all fiction and doesn’t reflect any of the real characters mentioned.

Just a reminder that you’re all hot and I love you ;). I’m basing this Y/N character off someone my own size, I wear like a 20/22 (US sizing), 2/3X clothes. I’ve dated guys who were much smaller than me, and I’m trying to help normalize that in the fic world. This is not at all dissing thinner people, nor the writing of thin characters, because all bodies are good bodies and every size should be represented and loved. Okay, spiel over, enjoy!! This is gonna be Josh X Reader, bc I’m a twin girl at heart but if you like this and want to see a similar theme with the other guys, lmk!

Also, this is a College AU I guess?

WARNINGS: Negative self-image, insecurity about weight, mentions of unhealthy/disordered eating habits if you squint, use of the word “f*t” to describe a plus-size person (characters says about themself).

Your alarm blared in your ear. Fuck, already? It felt like your head had just hit the pillow minutes before, but your alarm let you know otherwise. It was a Saturday, so normally you’d be sleeping in, but you’d agreed to go to the art museum with your high school friends since it was spring break. You hadn’t seen them since you’d all left for school the previous summer. You were nervous to see them, knowing that you’d put on the famous “freshman fifteen” with all the late nights of studying and junk food. You were already self conscious about your weight for the entire time you’d known them, and none of the boys had ever said or done anything to make you feel bad about yourself, but your own brain did enough to make you dread having to pick out an outfit you didn’t feel awful in. Especially since you’d harbored a crush for your best friend, Josh, since you’d known him. You knew it was silly to worry about it. He’d never see you that way, and you knew it. With one more heavy sigh, you picked yourself up and out of your bed and headed to shower. You didn’t let yourself look at your naked form for long before stepping into the shower and trying to forget your worries. He’d seen you in pictures on your social media, you tell yourself. He’ll already know that you gained more weight. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t even that noticeable, and that he wouldn’t care. You were already his fat friend. You scolded yourself for using that word to describe yourself silently as the water slid through your hair and down your body. He’d told you before that you were beautiful, but isn’t that what all nice friends tell each other?

You shook the thoughts from your head and the water from your hair as you stepped out, thankful that the steam had fogged up your mirror enough to obscure your reflection. You swiped a small enough section of the condensation so you could see your face to finish your morning routine of brushing your teeth and hair, then putting on some light makeup. Next was the task of finding an outfit. It might’ve been spring, but Michigan was still chilly this time of year, so you landed on some jeans that hugged your curves nicely, and a sweater that hid the parts you didn’t want on display. You paired it with your favorite boots and jewelry before grabbing your purse and heading out to meet the boys at the Kiszka’s house. You’d always used their house as a home base, seeing as three of the five of your group already lived there. Throughout high school, you and Danny practically had too, with as much as you were there. You took the familiar and short trip to their house, pausing to collect yourself in the driveway. Why were you nervous? These were your favorite people in the world. They loved you, you reminded yourself. You didn’t have much time to get lost in thought before you saw Sammy stick his head out the front door and wave wildly at you. You couldn’t help the grin that plastered your face as you got out of your car and went up to the door to greet him. “Hey stranger” he said, pulling you into a hug. “Hi Sammy, it’s good to see you. Staying in trouble, I presume?” You asked with a laugh. “Ah, Y/N, you know me too well.” He said with a wink. “C‘mon, everyone else is getting breakfast and coffee in the kitchen.” Your stomach lurched a little at the thought of breakfast. You had of course eaten with the boys before, but time away from them had also taken some of your habitual comfort around them with it. You had hated eating in front of people since getting to college. Worried that all the new people would be judging on the amount you ate. If it was too much, because of your size, if it was too little bc they thought you were starving yourself. You figured you at least have some coffee. You let Sam lead you to the kitchen, even though you’d been there a million times.

Walking in you were met with a blast from the past. The other boys were making coffee and talking and laughing, only looking up when they heard the two of you enter. You were greeted with a resounding “Y/N!!” As the boys all came to give you hugs. Danny was closest, pulling you into a bear hug and telling you he had missed you. Jake did the same, and then was Josh. You closed your eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of him, mixed with coffee. He held on tightly for an extra moment before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Hi mama, it’s so good to see you, you look great.”

You blushed at his compliment. “Thanks, Josh, so do all of you.” You said, turning to look at the other guys, hoping that breaking your eye contact with him would will away the redness in your cheeks. “Did you eat yet, Y/N?” Jake asked innocently. “We’ve got food and coffee”.

You shifted a little nervously. “Oh I’m okay, I’ll take some coffee though.” Josh narrowed his eyes at you slightly “Are you sure? We’ve got your favorite kind of donut. Sam and Danny stopped by the shop this morning.” You chuckled nervously. “They got up early enough to do that? I’m impressed.” You tried to deflect the question with humor, but Josh saw through you. “Yes, I know, miracles aside, it’ll be a long day if you don’t eat, mama.” You internally sighed at the nickname and knew you couldn’t resist what he was asking of you. “Alright, just because you went through the trouble of getting it for me, thank you boys.” You reluctantly took the donut from Josh while he put together your coffee how you liked it. He handed you the mug when he was done and watched you take a bite of the donut. “That’s my girl,” he said quietly, smiling at you. You gave him a small smile back, but on the inside you were thinking of what other foods you’d have to cut out of your day to make up for indulging in that much sugar. You all sat in various places in the kitchen, eating and catching up on the months you’d spent apart. You told them about your classes and about people at school, they told you about the music they were working on and you made them promise to play for you when you got back from the museum.

Once you’d all finished, you headed to the boys’ van and all piled in. Jake insisted on driving, but needed Danny to navigate for him, so you, Josh, and Sam piled into the back, with Josh in the middle and you and Sam on either side of him. You had made the rule with them a long time ago that you refused to take the middle seat, joking with them that they were much scrawnier and didn’t need as much room. They could tell it made you uncomfortable, so they never pushed the issue and always made sure you had an outer seat. Your shoulder still pressed into Josh’s and you wondered if he could feel the size difference between the two of you. How one of your arms was the size of two of his combined. You pushed the thoughts from your head as the guys started playing music loudly and singing along in their signature goofy way. You couldn’t help but join in with them. “So, Y/N, any boys at school that we need to fight off?” Sam asked, leaning past Josh to look at you. You scoffed at the question. “Oh Sammy, you know there aren’t.” You tried to sound lighthearted instead of pathetic, but you weren’t sure you pulled it off. “Oh come on, Y/N, I figured they’d all be falling over themselves for your attention by now.” You rolled your eyes at this. “I appreciate the flattery, Sam, but there are much prettier girls than me at school.”

Josh had been quiet up to this point, but he broke his silence saying “I doubt that.” You looked at him, trying not to blush. You figured he was just trying to make you feel good too, but he seemed very serious. “I just think you guys have been looking at the same girls your whole life, and to be fair, there’s not much happening in Frankenmuth.” You laughed nervously, trying to pull the focus away from your appearance. “Y/N,” said Josh. “Don’t tell me that you’re smart enough to get into college, but you still don’t know how pretty you are.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know, I guess I just don’t think of myself that way.” You refused to meet his eyes. Josh sensed your discomfort and decided to not press any further, instead deciding to hold one of your hands in both of his, rubbing his thumb against the backs of your knuckles. You had only spoken to Josh a small handful of times about your self-image. There had been times where your insecurity had become debilitating, to the point of you trying to find excuses to not see your friends or avoiding any activities that involved swimsuits or food or anything that triggered your self-doubt. He’d been there for you in those moments, always gently encouraging and reassuring you. After a while, he leaned closer to you, whispering, “I think those boys at school are so lucky that they get to see your beauty everyday.” You squeezed his hand, saying a small thank you. You weren’t going to let your body image ruin your day of fun with your boys. You’d done that too many times in the past and you rarely got to see them anymore.

You brought the energy in the car back up by asking the boys about their music again, and they all lit up, fighting for dominance in the conversation to tell you about their different parts. You laughed and smiled along as they animatedly explained all the different songs to you that they were working on. Before long, you reached the museum. You all hopped out and went in to get your tickets. You found a map and busied yourself with figuring out where you wanted to go first when you looked up and realized that Jake, Sam, and Danny had already run off to explore, leaving you and Josh. “Well, so much for coming up with a planned route.” You giggled at Josh. “You know how they are.” He said with a laugh. “Well, Josh, what would you like to see first?” You asked him. “I know you’re a sucker for the classics, so I thought we could start there and then I really wanted to see that new statue garden they installed.” Your cheeks pinkened at his consideration for your tastes. “Sounds great.” You replied. The two of you made your way to the classical European painting section, pointing out your favorite pieces to each other, laughing at the ones that made no sense to you. It was easy being with him when you didn’t let your brain get in the way. You had to admit, as much as you’d missed the others, it was nice to have this time alone with him. You kept having to remind yourself that this wasn’t a date, but the way his eyes held just as much admiration when looking at you as they did when he looked at the art made it hard to remember. When you’d had your fill of that section, you decided to head out to the statue garden. It was absolutely stunning. There was a surprising amount of greenery, despite the Michigan temperatures and the statues were absolutely perfect. You and Josh stood side by side looking at a statue of a woman. She wasn’t real, you reminded yourself. She was sculpted out of stone, made to be perfect. You were made of flesh. Flesh was supposed to be soft and imperfect. “Why don’t you do the same pose as her? I’ll take your picture.” Josh offered with a smile. “Oh I don’t think so, she’s too perfect.” You said, tugging at the edge of your sweater. “Y/N, I think she should be the one that worried about being out done.” He said sweetly. “Josh, I’ll look huge next to her.” Your voice had gotten shaky and your eyes were threatening tears. His eyebrows knit together. “C’mere mama.” He grabbed your hand and sat you down next to him on the nearby bench. “What’s wrong, mama? I didn’t mean to upset you.” He looked at you with a worried expression. You used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe at your eyes. “I know, Josh, I’m sorry I’m being so high maintenance today. I just look at all these depictions of beautiful women and I look nothing like them. They’re all thin and perfect and I’m not.” His expression softened. “Y/N, you know those words aren’t synonymous, right? You’re so gorgeous. You don’t have to look exactly like them to be exactly as beautiful. I meant what I said earlier about those boys being lucky to see you everyday. You’re stunning.” You looked up at him through your watery lashes. “Do you really mean that? You don’t have to say stuff just to make me feel better.” He pulled your hands into his lap. “I mean it. We may be at the art museum, but I have yet to see anything more beautiful than you here.” You laughed bitterly at his words. “That can’t be true. I’m just me. And there’s too much of me. I feel so gross, Josh. I can’t stand seeing how much bigger I am than these girls and how big I am next to you. A picture would just further prove that. I just don’t wanna see it.”

“Oh mama, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. That’s not at all how I see you. When I look at you, all I see is your radiant smile, your beautiful curves. I see my best friend and I wouldn’t want there to be any less of you.” He said tenderly.

“Thank you, Josh, but I just don’t think you understand. Girls like me don’t get the guy, they don’t get the happily-ever-after that thin girls do. They aren’t noticed, or loved, or wanted. We get to be funny, we get to be used for our boobs and our ass, then we get told that we’re not good enough to be anything more than that. Being a muse is a skinny girl’s job.” You were crying by this point. Josh leaned forward and wiped a tear from your face. “Y/N, it breaks my heart that you think about yourself like that. I’m an idiot for not doing enough to make you think differently.” He said. You looked at him and smiled weakly. “It’s not your responsibility, Josh. You’re a great friend. You’ve never made me feel like that, it’s just my stupid brain and society’s stupid ideas about what I should or shouldn’t be.” He nodded before saying “Would you believe me if I told you that you are noticed, loved, and wanted?” You laughed. “Not really. Despite what you and Sammy think, there are exactly zero guys that have been begging for my attention.” Josh smiled at you. “Well, I haven’t begged yet, but if that’s what it takes, I’m willing to go there.” You were taken aback by his words. “Yes, Josh, I know you and the guys love me, but not like that. You guys are my friends, you’re like obligated to say this stuff.” He shook his head and said “Y/N, I’m telling you that I love you like that. I have for a long time. I was just too stupid to tell you. You’re the only girl I’ve had eyes for since I met you. I’m sorry that you’ve believed all this time that I couldn’t want you because of your weight. A number on a scale or a stretch mark or whatever it is that makes you think you’re unlovable doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. Because it’s never stopped me. I love you, Y/N. I want you.” Your eyes were completely wide, your breathing shaky. “Really?” You asked, still not believing your ears. “You really mean all that? You’re not saying it just to save my feelings?” He laughed at your disbelief. “Yes, mama, I thought the part about me confessing my feelings for you for years and saying I wanted you was fairly clear, but like I said, I’ll beg if I have to.” He said, holding your hands more tightly. “I’m sorry, my brain is just saying that it isn’t possible for you to possibly feel that way about me.” He tilted his head slightly “What’s so impossible is that you don’t see yourself the way I see you. I thought you always knew you were too good for me.” You laughed out loud at his words. “Too good for you? Never.” You said with a smile before continuing “I love you too, Josh.” He leaned forward and wiped another tear from your face before softly touching his lips to yours. You both sighed against each other’s mouths before you shyly pulled away. “Does that help make it feel more real?” He asked with a grin. “Yes and simultaneously no.” You laughed. “Ah, well I guess, if it’s okay with you, I’ll just have to keep doing it until you’re convinced.” He said with a shrug. You laughed and replied. “Mmm, I don’t know, I can be pretty stubborn.” He pulled you in again for a another kiss, this one a little longer. He pulled away, but held your face close to his saying “You’re seriously so gorgeous, Y/N. I’ll prove it to everyday as long as you’ll let me.” You kissed the tip of his nose and said “I think I might just let you.” He then pulled you into a hug, rubbing circles into your back. “Thank you, Josh. You’re definitely the one that’s too good for me. Thank you for being so patient with me.” He nodded into your shoulder. “You deserve it, love. I’m sorry I didn’t start sooner.” You pulled back to look at him. “You still wanna take that picture?” His eyes lit up. “You want to? You really don’t have to if it’ll make you uncomfortable, I just think you look like a Greek Goddess walking next to me.” He said sheepishly. You giggled at his words.”Okay, Adonis, come take this picture before I change my mind.” You stood up and fixed your sweater and wiped your eyes before going and mimicking the pose of the statue. And for once, you didn’t worry about sucking in your stomach, or worrying whether or not your double chin was visible. You knew that Josh would look at you like you were sculpted by the gods themselves anyway.

#j.m.k. x reader

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: language)

Words: ~3K

Summary: Lars has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him in the middle of the night to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

Set mid SUF.

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to write Lars’ POV before this, but it was really fun! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

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Besides the quiet lull of the TV and the electric hum of the attic’s rickety old heater, all is silent in the Barriga household. The nighttime streets outside are vacant. Not a soul roams through his section of town, not even the newer Gem arrivals, who thankfully have been informed of humanity’s biologically mandated curfew by now. Sheesh, it’s about time.

After all, silence is peace. And in this day and age, in a world where the barriers between human and intergalactic politics are becoming increasingly blurred by the hour, peace is a gift.

Which is why having free time to play whatever old video games he wants in complete and total solitude at one AM is probably the single thing keeping him sane at this moment.

Lars’ fingers expertly flick at the joysticks of the controller as if by innate memory. It genuinely feels like forever since he’s been able to lose himself for hours in a solo campaign like this, and quite honestly, if given a choice he prefers it to any other leisurely activity. Chatting with his online friends or with that Gem gang of his is fun, sure, and working the counter at his bake shop can often be emotionally satisfying, but pushed too long and any kind of social interaction feels draining. He shifts on his bed, paying little to no attention to the slight chill against his bare chest. He’s pretty sure it’s like, near freezing outside and yet somehow it’s no more an annoyance to him than having to pause to reload an ammo clip in this game. It’s weird. Really weird. But then, at this point everything about his dumb life is.

It’s the Steven effect, he thinks with a soft scoff. Weird practically orbits him and his moms, and inevitably, every person he comes in contact with is brought into the fold. He’s a good kid, though. Don’t get him wrong. Steven always tries his best to be thoughtful when dealing with people he doesn’t understand— even when initially those people just act like dicks in return— and he for one is grateful for that, for the gift of a... a second chance. He knows full well he didn’t deserve it, (he still doesn’t), but he’s grateful.

The kid’s still on his mind when his phone lights up on the nightstand beside him, like the now familiar glow of Gems synchronizing to fuse.

(And goddamnit, does a part of him still balk almost two years later that it’s so normal to be casually relating everyday things to outer space Gem stuff anyways. What is he, with his pink hair and alien friends, the main character of an anime?)

Eyes skirt away from the grainy television set he’s been playing his favorite Immortal Combat on, and glance at the new notification.

Steven, the name at the top of the text reads. Well, lo and behold. The true shounen protagonist himself. Somebody’s ears must have been burning. Though, hmm. Come to think of it, that’s actually unusual. They pass bullshit memes back and forth sometimes, yes, but he never sends him anything this late at night.

Lars frowns, failing to obscure that annoying, instinctual worry that seizes him like the long lost sensation of hunger rising from the pit of his stomach, and scoots forward on his bed to grab his phone. What’s he want at this hour, anyways?

Steven: hey, sorry i know its late but can i come over ?

His frown deepens as he glances down at himself, clad in only a pair of boxers. He doesn’t mind having an unexpected visitor— after all, it’s not like he requires sleep anymore— but he’s not exactly dressed for company, here.

yeah but gimme a mo, he types back. kinda need to put on a shirt

Steven: k

Yawning out of sheer habit, he leans over the other side of the bed and grabs the first decent smelling tee he can find off the floor. It’s got an overlapping triangular emblem on it, a symbol from one of the game series he used to be obsessed with as a kid. He quickly shrugs it and a stray pair of sweatpants on, then returns to his phone.

decent now, he updates him.

The response is almost immediate.

Steven: be there soon

With a heavy inhale, he leans back against the headboard and begins to mentally prepare himself for the passage of One Whole Teenage Boy through the portal in his hair. For the most part he’s grown used to the changes caused by Steven’s literal magic resurrection, but not this. Who the hell knows how his pet lion puts up with it all the time. Quite frankly, how that creature has remained so docile and patient after years of interloping within Steven’s chaotic world of Gems eludes him, ‘cause it sure as hell isn’t a side effect of all the death-defying space voodoo.

Also, he’s like, 97% sure that “docile” and “patient” aren’t words anyone would pick to describe him at any stage of his life, ever.

And yet, yawning in his boredom, Lars waits.

And he waits.

And when eventually he breaks his stubborn streak and dares to check the time on his phone to see how many minutes have elapsed, how many minutes of his thrice-damned maybe infinite lifespan he’s wasted sitting up against the far wall of his room waiting for that kid to tumble right out of the literal inter-dimensional door hidden amidst the curls atop his head, he’s mildly surprised that his first emotional response to this delay is... dare he admits... disappointment.

It’s been nearly fifteen minutes. For whatever unknown reason, it seems as if Steven may not be coming over after all. Huh. He wonders what changed his mind. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Lars decides to check his texts. It’s possible the guy wrote something else and he just didn’t see it. But when he pulls up his latest conversation, all that comes up are the last messages they sent to each other. Be there soon, he said.

He hovers hesitant fingers over the keyboard, caught in the midst of trying to decide whether or not it’s too invasive and prying to send some sort of casual check-in, when he picks up on a very timid knock on the front door downstairs. And given the lateness of the hour, there’s really only one person it could be. He blinks for a moment, his mind still doing somersaults in order to process the mere concept of Steven not gleefully taking the opportunity to explode out of his hair for once in his life, and then drags himself up to his feet. Walks out of his attic room and down the stairs, being careful not to disturb his slumbering parents. Unlatches the locks on the door.

Truth be told he has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him at one fucking AM to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

He struggles not to stumble backwards at the initial force of the teen’s silent yet yearning embrace, eventually regaining his stability and... slowly, delicately... hugging him back. Honestly, he’s never been much of a hugger himself, but eh. He’ll give the guy this one. After a brief moment Lars gives him a few awkward pats, clearing his throat.

“Uh, Steven? You good to let go, now?” he asks quietly, still keeping his voice in a whisper for his parents’ benefit.

“Oh! Y-yeah, yeah,” his younger friend stammers, immediately pulling himself away. His eyes are drawn to the floor as he wrings his hands together. Timid. “Sorry, I just— I just needed somewhere I could clear my head tonight. Thank you, by the way.”

“No problem,” he throws back, gesturing for him to follow up the stairs. “‘S not like I ever sleep a wink now anyways. So I might as well have company.”

The two of them tiptoe towards the attic, a familiar setting for both. Steven’s been in here quite a few times before, so— already knowing the lay of the land— he plops himself down in the beanbag chair Lars keeps at the foot of his bed. They don’t talk about much of anything at first, merely passing back and forth brief updates about their lives. Small talk, nothing more. As expected though, Steven’s update is infinitely more interesting than his. Apparently he went on some mission to an alien planet with that Lapis friend of his the other day and had to deal with the attitude of some stubborn terraformers who didn’t want to stop working on their shitty old Homeworld assignment. (Meanwhile, the only update he has to offer is how he’s teaching Blue Lace Agate the art of bad baking puns while at work. Gotta leave behind some sort of legacy before he leaves with his fellow Off-Colors, of course.)

When the small talk finally dries up, (which seems... uncharacteristic, given the typical enthusiasm of his current visitor), Lars offers him a second controller.

“We can play the go-kart one, if you want,” he says, knowing full well that his friend isn’t a huge fan of all his war-themed combat games. Still, he figures the guy could probably stand to blow off a little steam. He looks super stressed, with his brow all creased and his stare unnervingly glassy.

The sixteen-year-old nods, adjusting his hands around the grips of the controller as Lars switches out the disk.

They race a few rounds in relative quiet, wholly insulated by the reassuring stillness of the night all around them, before Steven decides to open up again.

“Where do you think the line is?” he asks when they finish their current course.

His whole face scrunches in confusion. “Huh?”

“Between like, doing bad things, and outright being bad?” he continues, seemingly unaware of the comedic pulse of Lars’ initial response.

Lars blinks.

Considers these words deeply and thoroughly for a moment, as any good friend should.

And then...

“Where the heck did you pull that question from?”

Steven merely shrugs, his shoulders drooping a bit lower than they had been when he first entered his house a while back. “I dunno, just musing, ‘s all.”

The edges of his mouth curl downwards as he lets this corker of a conversation starter wash over him, not so much intended as a frown at Steven, but a frown at... whatever force of this universe would lead his friend to start musing about such depressing philosophical quandaries in the first place. Acting numb and brooding at the rest of the world is supposed to be his job, not this kid’s! And sure, yes, yes, yes, he knows he can’t exactly call him a kid anymore— at least not to his face— and that he’s been a teenager for a good three years now. It’s just that... well. For all his complaints about it earlier in life, Lars kinda grew to respect and feel uplifted by his cheery, upbeat, never-give-up-hope outlook. Dare he says, he kinda misses it.

(And for Steven’s sake, he kinda hoped he’d never discover the burnout and cynicism waiting on the other side. Alas, he fears that ship has probably sailed.)

“Sorry,” the sixteen-year-old mumbles upon noting his extended silence, his cheeks flushed with shame. “Probably not something anyone wants to think about at two in the morning. Just- forget I said anything, okay? Let’s play one more round, and then I can lea—“

Eyes widening, he holds up a hand to intercept that train of thought. “No, that’s— you asked an interesting question. Deep, but interesting. It’s fine, I don’t mind. I...”

He inhales deep, collecting his wits and whatever years of wisdom he may or may not have accumulated ever since dying and coming back to life.

“I suppose in my mind, people aren’t truly bad unless they intend to cause harm, y’know?” he begins, meeting Steven’s eyes. “You can still hurt others without meaning it, and like... that’s still not great, and you should still try and make up for it however you can, but... life’s complicated. People are complicated. It’s all a huge mess of emotions and ethics and beliefs all the time.”

He pauses, a twinge of melancholy rising within his chest as he catches a glimpse of a photograph hung on one of the wooden support beams at the far wall. It’s a selfie of him and Sadie he printed out a few years back when they were still low-key dating, one that— for the life of him— he can’t bear to take down. She’s kissing his cheek. He’s caught in the middle of laughter, playfully trying to nudge her away. They look... so young.

So naive.

(So human.)

“And sometimes it can be so, so easy to convince yourself that you’re always in the right,” he continues, quieter, “that people feeling hurt because of something you did is just their problem. In that case, it’s not that you wanted to harm anyone, it’s just... that you were blind to it, I guess.”

(And he was blind for a long, long time.)

“Like I said, it’s messy.”

Lars sighs, willfully averting his glance from the photographic reminder of all the ways he ignorantly fucked up with Sadie as a friend and partner, and with everyone in his life, making the same stupid mistakes over and over with nearly no improvement until he literally died to his old self.

“So, yeah. There. I guess that’s my opinion,” he mumbles, absentmindedly fiddling with the collar of his graphic tee. “Everyone makes bad choices sometimes, but you’re not actually a bad person unless you literally want to harm others. I don’t think people are bad once and bad forever, though,” he adds, pulling his hand away from his shirt.

Inhaling deep, he splays his palm wide, admiring those same old loops and whorls at the tips of his fingers, identical in every detail to his old, living, human self... but now pink. It's haunting, sometimes.

“People can change, y’know? If they make the effort to.”

When he finally glances back at Steven, he seems thoroughly spaced out by all his impassioned rambling, his gaze walleyed and void of any identifiable emotion. He scowls, unsure whether or not he should feel offended, and gives an exaggerated shrug to defuse the sickeningly earnest atmosphere out of this room.

“But hey, I’m biased,” he mutters, letting that instinctual, age-old self-depreciation coat his tone once more. “For all I know, everything I said could be absolute bunk, and I’m still just an asshole.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Lars,” Steven finally speaks up, his expression still perplexingly unreadable.

“I—“ His eyes blow wider, the sheer frankness of this comment catching him entirely off guard, overturning all of his once-impenetrable defenses. “...Thank you. I’m trying not to be.”

The conversation doesn’t advance any further from there, both parties content to fade back into the understated comfort of silent companionship. They play a few more rounds of their racing game, Lars beating Steven handily each time. (Truth be told, he’s not confident he’s bringing his A-game, though.) Then, sometime around three AM, his friend drags himself out of the beanbag chair and announces that he should probably head home and get some rest. Apparently he’s got a lot of planning to do for Little Homeschool's graduation ceremony that’s happening in a few days, or whatever. Which, is fair. Not everyone is blessed enough to be a sleepless zombie like him.

“Y’know, it’s been nice, getting to hang out, just us,” Steven says— quiet, but genuine— as Lars leads him back down the stairs. “We should do this more often.”

Purposefully, given the unusual emotional atmosphere of this whole visit, he decides not to mention the fact that he's planning to leave Earth again when his all Gem friends finally graduate. Later, he thinks, when everyone's in a better place.

“Well, if you’re ever bored, you know where to reach me,” he replies as they reach the bottom step, fondly rolling his eyes. “The good ol’ inter-hair-mensional express. Just, y’know— text me. And not during work hours.”

The teen gives his thanks once again, and then exits out the front, making sure to be extra gentle shutting the door on his way out for his parents’ sake. Huh. Seems that even when he’s (seemingly) in a funk, he’s capable of being uber courteous like that. Goodness, how does he do it?

Lars stands motionless at the entryway for a few moments after he’s gone, staring blankly at the now empty space the sixteen-year-old just occupied. His brow furrows, his fingers curling in perplexion at his side. He doesn’t have enough insight into Steven’s inner life to claim anything for sure, but he can’t help but feel like something with that boy was... off, tonight. Like, beyond your standard teenage moodiness. His demeanor, his bizarre and specific question, his relative silence... it all seems to be pointing towards something, lurking in the background. Still, there’s little he can do for a person who’s not volunteering information. And it ain’t his job to drag it out of him, either. He always hated when his parents tried to do that when he was younger, and it almost ruined their relationship entirely. That’s the last sorta scenario he’d want to force upon Steven. He’ll open up when he’s ready, in the end.

And until then... well.

He just hopes that the kid knows that— beyond the bizarre magic portal in that pink lion’s mane— he’s always got a brother on the other side who’s willing to at least listen. To be but a small source of support.

If he wants him to be.

#su #su future #lars barriga #steven universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Hand-Me-Down Words

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1639

Summary: A publisher wants to print the Beth Harmon story, but Beth doesn't know how to go about writing a book. Luckily, she knows someone who does.

They want her to write a book. With triumph over Borgov behind her, Beth requires a new challenge, and with the payout from Moscow, she doesn’t need to enter any American tournaments for the time being. Tedious car journeys and rough hotel sheets combined in trips that end in prizes of piddly amounts aren’t in her future unless she wants them to be. Victory means control. Writing, writing should mean control too.

Except that Beth’s never done anything like this before.

Numbers are the Harmon language—hers and her mother’s. Expressions, equations, calculations, and chess. Even Alma made sense of life through budgeting. Beth’s first thought after meeting with the agent she selected to represent her and the acquisitions editor at the publishing house is, Thank god I’m already in New York, because she needs help here. She needs somebody who’s done this before.

Unsure how quickly or if they’ll fall into their old pattern of sharing the bed, Beth informs Benny that she’s buying him a couch. A couch which will really be for her. She rejects even the remotest possibility that she’ll ever again sleep on that stupid inflatable mattress, pretending not to get a cramp in either her calf or the arch of her foot (or both) when she had to work the damn pump every night to avoid his gloating smile, to perpetuate his mistaken understanding of it being a situation of him providing her with something instead of the opposite. She maintains that he did promise a couch and is therefore a boldfaced liar. Which she should have seen because, liar? Yes, of course. The man plays chess for a living. A face that can alternately frighten and reassure an onlooker is a necessity. Come stay with me at my apartment in New York while we’re both aware of your attraction to me. Frightening. Don’t worry, you’ll sleep on the couch and this arrangement will keep things platonic and focused on your chess training. Reassuring.

“I’m buying a couch for your living room.”

“No.”

Well, fuck him. Beth leapfrogs her original scheme and buys an entire apartment. Not a nice one—she still has the Lexington house to caretake and eventually reinhabit—but it is above ground. She insists it’s hers, a good investment, a base in New York for all of her future meetings with her agent and editor, until Benny gives her a look that has her raising her palms and halting her excuses. She never asks him to give up his place. When he walks into hers one day with the key she had made for him dangling from his finger and a box of possesses under his arm, she just scrapes her chair back from the table and shows him the space she left for him in the closet.

She thinks they might have sex the day she comes back from a publicity event (they’re drumming it up before she’s written a single coherent page) to find Benny napping on the couch with his hat over his face like a cowboy, instinctively pulling her close when she knocks it away and startles him awake. Or when he suggests that she begin carrying a knife too and jokingly taps her thigh when she asks where she’s supposed to conceal it. Or when he stumbles blearily into her room in the early morning because she’s crying tears of frustration over her typewriter and he wordlessly gathers her into a sleep-warmed embrace. Or when they quit acting like he’s a guest and he calls it “our apartment” for the first time.

Beth wants to charge through the book. She’ll write for hours at a time, answering questions only as they occur to her, the way she’s danced back and forth with her true competitors on the chessboard. But Benny has the wisdom of a published author here and ruthlessly edits these pages—verbally, never picking up a pencil. He pushes her to compose the questions ahead of time, allowing her to address them with equal weight. Also, to come up with certain themes or trains of thought that are vital to the forward energy of the book and capture the spirit of her play, which is really what she’s made this deal in order to describe. People are hungry to see chess through her eyes. They’ll pay good money for it.

Whenever they’re on the brink of an argument because Beth is hammering away at the typewriter while Benny’s trying to get to sleep, or Benny is being as pushy and transactional as her editor while Beth’s desperate for a little encouragement, one of them inevitably suggests a match.

Playing at home is helping to break his habit of wagering on games. She never says anything directly; progress seems to come more easily for him when he doesn’t feel watched, which she gets, from having people voice their concern over the tranquilizers. It’s been… well, since the night she decimated him and his friends at speed chess, that he thought he had a failproof method for beating her. He can’t afford to lose every game—he has to contribute to the household finances.

They play three games at once, on three separate boards. They play without a board, swapping moves as they eat lunch and people-watch on a park bench. They play blindfolded until they get into a fight because Beth isn’t familiar with the shape of one of his sets and thinks she’s been moving a bishop when her fingers really stuttered over the pieces to land on a pawn. (They remove the blindfolds after checkmate to see that pawn ‘checking’ the king from a diagonal across the board and Benny discounts the entire match as illegal.)

They play games that last a day or more, leaving notepads beside the board like they do at tournaments and checking each other’s over the hours for new moves before responding with slides and taps and exchanges of their own. During one of these, when Benny’s been taking forever to take his turn (because Beth has him pinned and he’s being stubborn about conceding), she comes into the kitchen to start dinner and sees him sitting at the table, staring at the board, still not making a move.

“You can get out of it,” she comments, standing next to his chair with her arms folded. She doesn’t really believe that and he knows it; she watches him shift irritably in his seat.

“I think I would’ve done it by now.”

His refusal to even try while she’s standing there watching (yes, she still loves to watch him play) makes her just as determined to beat her own white pieces back as she was formerly determined to beat him. She studies the board harder and it does take several minutes. Finally, she spots the move.

Without thinking, Beth drops down onto his lap and says, “Here,” as she reaches out and drags the king onto a new square. “It looks like an exposed placement, but it’s really the perfect bait to get white to rearrange its offensive, opening things up for a comeback by black. See?”

She turns her head and her heart swoops as Benny’s gaze strokes unhurriedly up her neck to her face. He blinks twice, quickly, like seeing her here is a surprise and a dream. Gently, he shifts her hips back a little, until she can feel the firmness at his groin. He stops sleeping on the couch.

With trimming and factchecking and too much coffee, her book is suddenly in its final draft, pressed back into her hands by the editor who’s probably really, really tired of reading about chess. Regardless, the woman still loves the book. Vibrantly, aggressively. The house’s whole staff does, the way they can only love something they’re publishing in a frenzy, before interest in the young female champion wanes. Beth is amazed to find that she loves it too. It has a lot of heart, she feels, between the numbers that have defined her career; though it isn’t one of the sections she’s been requested to rejig for this last edit, she finds herself flipping back to a page near the beginning, where she writes about going to her first tournament unrated. Though journalists have always been curious about the morbidity of the car crash and her orphanage upbringing, she doesn’t give up too much of that. The highs and lows of Methuen—Jolene’s resilience and the green pills’ quicksand—will go unprinted. Readers will have to search for the personal. It’s in the brimming praise of Mr. Shaibel that Beth fought to include, and the passages of effusive respect for Alma, who learned to both manage and mother her.

It’s in the dedication.

Beth carries a copy home from the first box of the first printing. For the moment, it’s precious, but soon those boxes will be shipped out to bookstores, where employees will stack and shelve and shoppers will recognize her name on the spine and go, “Oh, isn’t she the one who…?” She smiles to imagine it.

“Benny?” she calls into their apartment. “You home?”

She curls around him from behind when he raises a hand from the couch. He’s reading but he puts the book down to transfer his complete attention to her and she kisses him with her mouth so full of the delight of her accomplishment that they almost get carried away. Breathless, she draws back, then hands her work over. She watches eagerly as Benny turns the pages, stopping him before the introduction.

His name isn’t the only one on the list—compiling people worth dedicating her book to was an exercise in recognizing the luck of her life—but it is the last. The endgame.

…and to Benny, it reads. Let’s set it up. Let’s think it out.

#I love writing dialogue; you'd never know it #my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny

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renohasbigtits · 3 years

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Oh my goodness those Ignis mpreg headcanons were so well written! I really enjoyed them they were really cute, if ya don’t mind me asking could you do Prompto next? I’ll leave all the details up to you but plz give us more uwu

Mpreg Prompto (Final Fantasy 15 Headcanons)

Omg ☺️ I’m glad you liked the Iggy one. Honestly While making the Ignis one, I was thinking about doing a Prompto Mpreg headcanon but I didn’t think someone would ask for a Prompto one.

But I will give the the people what they want!! PROMPTO MPREG!! Expect this to be very silly 🙃

Idk where this takes place, I’ll leave it to your imagination ;) just know that no ones dead! Yay everyone lives!!

One more thing: this does contain Mpreg (Male Pregnancy. Don’t like? Don’t read! Constructive feedback is welcome!)

• He’s a lot of things (being adorable cinnamon roll is one 🥰) but stupid isn’t one of them.

• he’ll noticed 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 how he’s gaining weight and starts to become more insecure (someone hug him pls)

Minor Warning: mentions of eating disorder habits.

• he starts to exercise more but he pushes himself a little to far of what people consider “Normal” and stops eating around people. That caught Ignis’s eye.

• Ignis motherly instincts kick in (Noct ain’t his only kid ya know) he confronts Prompto’s lack of appetite but Prompto doubles down.

• Ignis asks Noctis to, as his Best Friend, To help Prompto. Noctis goes to talk to his Best Friend.

•Noct tries to talk to Prompto about his excessive exercise and seemingly lack of appetite but Noctis’s awkwardness and his unintentional nonchalant attitude, doesn’t help and Prompto just ignores his friends concerns.

•however, one day Prompto passes out while running and is rushed to the hospital.

•it’s only then, he’s given the shocking news; He’s Pregnant! Not just that, he’s already a month Pregnant!

•he’s in shock and disbelief at first. How could that happ-

•oh yeah he had sex (duh)

•to make a long story short, Prompto was at a party, met someone, was getting along great and...well yeah you guess the rest xD (tbh I’m not comfortable or good at describing sex scenes, so I’m not gonna torture you guys 😅)

•after that, Prompto never saw (or heard) from them again.

•Gladio was like “Welp, it least you got laid!”

• meanwhile Noctis and Ignis: 👨‍🦯👨‍🦯

•Now, in a hospital bed, with the news that he’s Pregnant, Prompto feels alone, confused and scared. So he, reluctantly, turns to his friends for help.

•Noctis jaw was on the floor, he wanted it to be a joke. It wasn’t a joke.

•Gladio was: 📉📈📉📈📉📈📉

•Ignis, being the most calmest and levelheaded, tells Prompto to try to contact the baby’s other parent (can you tell I’m trying to be gender neutral? What can I say I love my he’s, she’s, and they’s 🥰)

•this, however, proves to be a colossal failure, since Prompto doesn’t even remember their name!

•Out of stress Prompto begins to cry :’(

• Noctis finally sees the seriousness of the situation, promises his best friend to help him and be there for him.

•Ignis and Gladio as well! Yay Grandma and Grandpa!...I mean Uncles!!!

•One Month: Prompto begun to eat correctly again. He’s lucky that the baby wasn’t harmed.

•this poor boy...gets sick a lot!!

•morning sickness is his worst enemy!!!

• “Now I know what my Mom went through...”

• he has the most RANDOM cravings...poor Ignis.

•he has to make the weirdest shit for Prompto!

•it least he’s eating it, so it’s worth it...kinda.

•Noctis is very protective of his friend. He knows people can be... judge mental.

•if anyone gives Prompto weird looks or glares.

•Oh Hell No!

•Noctis ain’t having none of it!!

•he’ll glare at them back! “What? What the hell are you staring at?!”

•He almost fought someone.

•Gladio had to stop him, he’s making Prompto cry (and that shit ain’t acceptable)

•Ignis just sighs. (Being a single mother is hard guys)

• Second Month: Prompto’s belly keeps gets bigger. He proud and nervous. He feels like he’s getting fat.

•The Doctor assures him that he’s not getting fat, he’s womb is getting bigger, which means the baby is growing fine.

•plus his friends are the best support system!!!

•lris gets him baby clothes, baby toys, etc.

•you better believe he’s taking pics of his baby bump.

•not just because it’s adorable, but because he wants to document it! He wants to scrapbook it!! It’s one of his biggest projects and he wants it to be perfect!

•Third Month: he has to buy new clothes ;-; he’s already outgrowing the ones he has!

• Prompto’s insecurity: 📈📈📈

•Noctis still tries to fight ANYONE who even looks at Prompto.

•Even Gladio gets annoyed with Noct fighting people and arguing with security to not kick them out.

•”Noct stop trying to fight people or your getting nothing but vegetables!!!”

•oh and you just know Prompto is gonna buy some Chocobo plushies, he’s kid is gonna love Chocobo’s as much as he does!

•55% of the baby supplies is Chocobo related.

•Fouth Month: This is it. He finds out the baby’s gender!

•it takes a while cuz the baby was an awkward position.

•”poor little guy, he must feel uncomfortable as much as I do.”

•”she’s actually a girl, Prompto. Congrats it’s a Girl!”

•”AAHAHAAHAH! IT’S A GIRL!” lris had to scream that where Noctis, Gladio and “I haven’t had my Coffee yet” Ignis could hear.

•THAT’S IT! I’M MAKING IT’S A GIRL CAKE!!

•that’s how they celebrate the announcement of the baby’s gender.

•Noct wouldn’t admit it but he’s really excited to be an Uncle.

•Gladio and Ignis as well.

•however, Prompto does not have much experience with taking care of Babies, so he starts practicing.

•for the next couple months, he training to take care of baby.

•he gets better but he fears he won’t be a good father (or mother) to his unborn Daughter.

•he doesn’t want her to feel what he felt growing up; loneliness.

•he promises her that he’ll never let her feel alone. He wants her feel loved and safe.

Eight Months: She’s already kicking. Literally!

•Seriously, She’s the most active baby the Doctor’s ever seen!

•let’s hope she won’t be too energetic....

•lris decides to make a baby shower for Prompto. The plan is simple:

•Ignis makes the food. (So many new Recipeh’s)

•Noctis keeps Prompto distracted. It’s not that hard as it sounds, he takes Prompto to a Chocobo farm!

•all tho, Prompto can’t ride the Chocobros cause he might fall and hurt himself and his unborn daughter, but he’s really enjoying himself. The plan is going smoothly.

•meanwhile Gladio decorates with the material he’s given because Iris doesn’t trust him to bring his own.

•it’s small and not many people came but hey! It’s the thought that that counts.

•Noct gets a text to bring Prompto to the party. The plan is going great!

•Prompto was so moved by all the hard work and the effort his friends made, that he balled his eyes out.

•it went great! They eaten the delicious food (THATS IT! GRANDMA IGNIS ACTIVITY!)

•the gifts were adorable ☺️

•Noct’s gift (note: lris had to drag Noct to a baby store, so she and Noct could get a gift. Much to Noct’s embarrassment) was Rare Black Chocobo plush!

•it was so cute! (In a dark way)

•Gladio’s was an adorable baby book. (He would have gotten a book about Chocobos but they didn’t have any ;-;)

•Ignis’s was a strange one. It was a coffee maker.

•”Iggy...why would I need this l?”

•”Cause your gonna be up all night.”

•believe me. Ignis knows all to well.

•lris’s gift was an Moogle Plush.

•It went amazing! (Prompto got to take some left overs home)

•Nine Month: The last month. The doctor was put Prompto on bed rest. Don’t walk around too much, try to stay hydrated.

•Noctis has to come over to look after Prompto during the last days of his Pregnancy.

•to say Prompto is nervous would be an understatement!!

•he’s sooo scared to feel what labor is like. He knows it’s extremely painful. Yeah he’s having a c-section but....

•Wait! WHAT WILL THE C-SECTION FEEL LIKE?!?!?

•he wouldn’t have to wait long...

•during the night, Prompto was having a hard time sleeping, due to some back pain (you know where this is going...)

•trying to get up, Prompto feels something wet.

•”NOCT!”

•”what I was drea-“

•”Prompto...did your water break?!”

•”I-I don’t know!!”

•unsure what to do, Noct (panicking) calls Ignis.

•”IGGY! I THINK PROMPTO’S WATER BROKE? MAYBE? I DON’T KNOW!”

•”Noct, how about you call the midwife?” Said Ignis calmly. (Let me know if you got that joke 😉)

•Noct calls the midwife, she tell him to bring Prompto to the hospital.

•(weeeeeeeeee wooooooooooo 🚑)

•They figure out pretty quickly that, the baby is coming NOW!

•poor Noct, sitting in the waiting room with a pajama top on and unclean pants (no shoes btw) hoping that it would go well and nothing happen to Prompto and his niece.

•after for what seems like forever, A nurse comes out with a small bundle in his arms.

•”He wanted you to hold her.”

•Noct was stunned. In his arms with Prompto’s baby girl!

•and she was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen!

•this tiny little thing, has his blond hair, blue eyes, even his freckles! She was the cutest thing ever!!

•Noct even shed a tear. He’s definitely not telling anyone about that.

30 Minutes Earlier

•Prompto just woken up. He passed out after he heard her cries.

•now, waking up; he wants to see his baby girl.

•once he sees her again, he basically falls in love all over again.

•Crying while her eyes were looking at his.

•”Hi there...nice to meet you.”

•She cooed in response. OMG.

•everyone else fell in love with her too.

•”She’s Adorable.”

•”hard to believe she’ll grow up so big.”

•she was basically welcome with open arms.

•over the years, shes basically a mini version of Prompto with a bit of a shy streak.

•he takes so.many.pics that she becomes camera shy.

•She LOVES chocobos and love to ride them with her Daddy ^^

•Noct is basically her second favorite person. She’s almost always falling asleep on him. He’s not complaining tho.

•btw, that Black Chocobo toy? It’s her absolute favorite.

•Ignis has to be her third favorite.

•she always refers to him as Mama Iggy. Much to Iggy’s embarrassment.

•She likes helping him cook. She’s a little mini helper and even passes out food. Ignis greatly appreciates the help.

•Gladio gives the best piggy back rides!

•she helps him a little with his exercise.

•Prompto and his Daughter are the closest you’ll ever see.

•she’s his rock and he’s her Father.

•When he finds out his origins and his “Father” he doubt downs to make sure he’s never like him. Period.

•After Noct disappears, She’s helps him get ready for Noctis’s eventual return.

•while getting stronger herself.

•When Noctis returns (and brings back the light) he’s shocked and happy to see that Prompto’s Daughter, has not changed much (besides age)

•she now helps around the Citadel.

•Prompto? Well

•Prompto is truly great full for having his daughter in his life.

•”Hey D/N?”

•”Yeah Dad?”

•”I love you.”

•”I love you too Dad.”

OMG! I did not expect this to be fucking long! 😅 well I hope I did this Justice. To who requested this, I hope you loved it!

I guess it turned more serious than silly huh? Welp, I still hoped you guys liked it!

Please Reblog!!

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

An impassioned debate

Pairing: Giles x Spike (”platonic” but they’re arguing lol)

Request: Spike & Giles bicker fest a la missing moments from when they were housemates, please?

Requested by: @staycalmandbeafan

Warning: Sex references.

A/N: Sometimes when I write I assume the attitude of one of the characters. Therefore, Spike doesn’t always appear in a good light lol (It was fun to write though and I got a little carried away sorry) 💜🖤

Giles liked to live alone.

He had grown up living with his parents. He had roommates in university. He even flat-shared in the communal house him and the friends he hung around at the time broke into and claimed as their own in his early twenties.

And that, is exactly how Giles knew he liked to live alone. Some days he could barely tolerate the young people that no matter how fond of them he was, would go on about pointless and often arbitrary nonsense in his presence.

His home then, became his sanctuary. A place where he could shut out the world.

That was until one fateful day in the all-too recent past. Thanksgiving day. A day where the Americans gave thanks for the parts of their lives they are grateful for. He thought he ought to partake in tradition and suggested how grateful he was for Buffy and the others.

A silent, more self-indulgent thanks was to the peace and quiet he would get at the end of the day. His house to himself, not shackled by parents. Kept up all hours by housemates or forced into copious amounts of overly emotional performance at the hands of the well-intentioned Americans.

This silent thought was shattered as a thud at the door announced an unwelcome visitor.

That’s how Giles ended up with a new houseguest. The vampire chained to his tub. A tub he had been very fond of until Spike had come in and ruined with his stench. He was probably the only person that smelt this bad after spending this amount of time in the bathtub.

It would be fair to say that Giles hadn’t been a very welcoming host, but to put it in context, despite being ‘harmless’ Spike had tried to bite Giles not once, but twice. Upon the first attempt being a near-miss and the second ending in blinding pain for the corpse-faced lunatic, he had the gall to tell Giles that he would taste like a dried up old prune anyway.

There was also the incident on Thanksgiving day itself where he managed to eat half a plate of cookies before anyone had the chance to stop him. A miraculous feat when you note that his hands and feet were bound tight.

These were, for the most part issues that Giles could look past. Especially now he was sure that Spike was unable to actually harm him. But what he couldn’t get past were, well, every other area that involved living with Spike.

The issues could be divided as such: Eating habits; sleeping habits; general depravity and what one could only describe as ‘The Passions debate’.

We should probably begin with the sleeping habits:

Or lack thereof. Spike was cat-like in the sense that he didn’t usually get a full night’s, or days, sleep. He tended to sleep a couple hours here or there seemingly whenever he pleased. Which meant that when he was tied up after dark, the vampire had a whole lot of thoughts and nowhere else to go so he seemingly spoke them out loud.

Giles tossed and turned in his bed desperately clinging to sleep, able for the most part to ignore the constant babbling of Spike’s innermost thoughts. Which actually amounted to shagged someone, shagged someone oh I drank some blood, shagged someone.

It was utterly mind numbing and Giles was beginning to feel that should he ever get out of this arrangement alive he would look into finding a house in the middle of a deserted island. Never to return to civilisation.

Giles managed to mostly ignore the fanged menace. Until the singing started. Or, what Giles would only call tuneless hollering. He butchered every punk song known to man and some surprisingly sugary pop ballads that Giles wouldn’t dare comment on, less he revealed that he himself knew the songs lyrics too.

He actually started singing to pass the time, it was lyrical to begin with but as the night wore on he started to shout the words, the tune lost. Sacrificed to a greater goal. Irritation.

He grinned when Giles padded downstairs to try to silence the din.

“Alright, Rupert? Here for dinner and a show?”

“I’m going to gag you” Giles warned. Something they had already had numerous arguments over.

“Well, you’re really gonna have to take me out to that dinner then” Spike smirked at Giles’ disdain for his words, moving his head slightly at the man’s reaction.

“Will you shut up! For God’s sake, man, be quiet!” Giles shouted, sleep-deprivation and living with someone that had more fangs than brains made him more and more irate. It made Spike smile even further, his next words making Giles about three seconds from throttling him (which, wouldn’t have killed him but it would have been very satisfying for Giles).

“Well, seein’ as you’re awake and all and got nothing better to do, be a love and get me some blood?” Spike cackled. Giles stopped himself from going near Spike and instead trailed to the kitchen, hoping it would at least shut him up for five minutes.

Which brings us nicely along to eating habits:

“I like a bit of texture in it!” Spike had shouted one morning. His blood was steaming but Giles had returned back into the kitchen with it to add something to try and get a moment’s peace.

He had been playing a very enjoyable game of see how many times he can send the same mug of blood back before Giles realised he was only doing it to annoy him. The highest score had been 3 times and only, in Giles’ defence, because the man hadn’t been properly awake that morning.

Giles had hit Spike twice (which was very tame considering the horror that was a feral vampire that wasn’t used to being in a domestic setting). Once because of the aforementioned incident and the second time after a particularly heated debate that we will discuss later.

Spike had been lounging on the sofa again, getting crumbs all over his chair. Giles swung his feet and made him sit up as he spoke.

“Will you bloody-”

“Oh don’t start conjuring those sweet massacres in my mind, Rupes, makes a fella’s hunger unbearable” He rubbed his stomach that did in fact appear to be gurgling at the mere mention of the word.

Spike, when he was allowed out of his restraints and Giles saw it was too much like hard work to be waiting on Spike all of the time, began to make his own meals. Which, really, just created more of a mess. And a distinct lack of Weetabix around the house.

He created the worst combinations known to man, sometimes to annoy Giles and other times to just see how it went. He sprayed cans of whipped cream in his mouth left over from Thanksgiving, ate crackers with every topping he found in the house and made sure to use the least amount of manners as possible whilst doing so.

Which brings us onto the section Giles would entitle, Spike’s ‘generally depraved character’:

Giles was still in the habit of tying Spike up at night, but he had subsequently allowed him to walk around in the day after a while.

There had been one evening where Spike ran through the entire house, struggling at every turn so that Giles couldn’t tie him up again. He was bored and it was fun making the human chase him. Eventually he was cuffed and tied to his chair and left there through the day so that it didn’t happen again.

Luckily, Spike had gotten bored of that game and just let Giles tie him up at night again now. Not without comment, of course.

“Call that a knot? I’ve had tighter curls, mate” Spike rolled his eyes as Giles looked over the glasses perching on the end of his nose. He then reached and tightened the knot by a lot making Spike yelp and scowl at him.

“Hey! You can’t just leave me like this – I’m getting’ rope burn here!” he shouted as he struggled, thus giving himself worse rope burn.

“Ah, yes and what’re you going to do about it, Spike, hm? Serenade me to death?” Giles rolled his eyes in disdain. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his position with a scowl stamped on his face.

He watched Giles get back to reading his paper. He let him get a few lines in before he interrupted him this time.

“Not exactly the five star digs I’m used to” Spike said which made Giles scoff. He had seen many of the places Spike had called home and none of them were fit for burying a corpse in let alone housing a living one.

“I can untie you and you can just leave, Spike, I’m sure burning to a crisp would really show me what for” Giles muttered, focusing on the paper he had been trying to read.

“Oh, I see you. Thinking you’re better than me – smarter. Anyone can read books, they don’t make it their whole sodding personality. You’re a good ol’ British stereotype, Rupes,”

“Ah, yes, well, many people can read Spike but it takes a particularly impervious individual to be so oblivious to their own misgivings that they result in insulting themselves in the same breath as their foe”

Spike rolled his eyes at the use of the word ‘foe’ but kept silent for a while. It was a rare silence and Giles made the most of it. Savoured it. He wasn’t sure if it was the big words that had evaded him or just the fact that his insult had resonated. But he didn’t say these thoughts out loud, less he would have to listen to Spike’s sparkling wit.

However, lo and behold, Spike suddenly spoke up again.

“You know what I miss?” Spike asked, leaving Giles sighing audibly and putting his unread book back down. He had tried several times to read the same line.

“No, but I assume that you’re about to enlighten me”

“Civil wars”

“What?!” Giles asked incredulously, taking his glasses from his face just so he didn’t have to look at the vampire who appeared to be staring up at the ceiling and reminiscing.

“Yeah” No nodded, “There’s just something about a civil war… could be the fear. Aphrodisiac, it is”

“I’m not sure I agree-”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one doing the fearing you great ponce”

“Now-” Giles was ready to launch into a barrage of insults, using all of his wit to ground Spike into the pile of dust and ash he was destined to be. But then, he took a breath. He decided to hit Spike where it hurt, “That’s it! No more television”

“What?!” Spike shouted, his eyes bulging in horror, “You can’t do that, I’m dyin’ here gramps-!”

“You’re already dead”

“Yeah, well, now I’m rotting away here with the living. I mean, you’ve aged – I saw your graduation photo in the hall. It’s like lookin’ in a particularly haunting mirror when I see you” Spike spoke smugly of the way his face hadn’t aged despite being older than Giles.

There was a stony silence for a while. Giles went quiet. When Giles went quiet, he was mad. The kind that could become insidious. His fists curled and his mind raced. Blood pumping hot around his body.

But, after a moment, he resolved himself. Spike wasn’t worth Ripper making an appearance. No, Spike wasn’t worth anything.

“Why don’t you read something, or perhaps figure out how to count past two?” Giles offered, stepping away from where the tv was now staying off. Spike’s face turned sour at the prospect of another afternoon with his thoughts.

“How about four?” Spike asked, flipping the v’s with both arms raised at the man who looked like he was about to thump his guest yet again.

“You’re a piece of work, Spike”

“Thanks” Spike nodded, still looking at Giles expectantly, waiting for the television to be turned back on. But when he turned way and started to look busy Spike’s mood changed.

“Come on, it’s telly time!” Spike shouted but Giles just took his jacket and left the house for the rest of the day. Leaving Spike bored and trying to avoid the patches of sunlight where Giles had ‘accidentally’ opened some of the curtains on different levels of the house.

When Giles eventually began to turn the television back on for Spike, it leads us on to ‘The Passions debate’:

“Are you blind willingly or are you truly this ignorant?!” Giles shouted, his words directed at Spike but his eyes were glued to the screen. No matter how much he had fought it, Giles had been well and truly sucked into the fictional world.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot! It’s clear as sodding day that they’re meant to be together” Spike gestured wildly at the screen.

“Their relationship is forced – there is no real meaning there!” Giles insisted, much like most shows on television in his opinion.

“You got it all wrong - it’s fate, destiny or any of that bollocks”

“Ah, yes, that would be the latter”

“Don’t be daft, Ripper – have you seen them?! Pure chemistry. Nobody can act that good either, they’re shagging behind the scenes – mark my words”

“You really are as perceptive as a wooden spoon, Spike” Giles berated him.

“That’s rot, that is! They’re shagging no two ways about it”

“Two people can have chemistry and maintain a platonic relationship” Spike raised an eyebrow at him and Giles had become heated in the debate, “They are not bloody shagging!”

“Aw, does it bother you that fictional characters are getting more action than you?” Spike mock-pouted. Trying to rile the man up further. This was where it descended into chaos.

“Ah, fortunately I’m satisfied in the knowledge that there will always be someone that is worse-off than myself” Giles paused before asking, “Is Drusilla well?”

“Bugger off! That was low for an ex-watcher who gets all his happy feelings from a group of school children” Spike pounced on him, going for the jugular, “You spend an embarrassing amount of time with dear Buffy. I wonder, what could you be doin’ behind closed-”

Spike was cut off by a blow to his face. It sent him flying backwards and splintered the wooden chair he had been sat on into pieces.

“Out!” Giles demanded, face like thunder, “Out before I do something I wouldn’t regret!”

Both Spike and Giles eyed the weapons chest that was on the floor between them before looking back at the other. Both were trying to calculate how long it would take the other to get there. After a moment, Spike got to his feet and just slinked off to a different corner of the house until he got hungry and Giles went to walk off his anger.

That had been the last straw. Soon after this particular incident, Spike was shipped off the Xander’s basement. Giles finally got his house back. His wooden chair however, unfortunately never recovered.

#Spike btvs #Spike #Giles #Rupert Giles #Spike x Giles #Spike fic #Giles fic #Rupert Giles fic #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs imagine #btvs #buffyverse #buffyverse fic #Spike btvs x Rupert Giles

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ao3gingerswag · 3 years

Note

okay headcanonnnsssss I've put my thinking cap on let's do this.

okay to go with the prompt earlier about cas reading to dean, I'm playing with that and making it into them telling stories. Sam, obviously, the nerd that he is, devours any and all stories he comes across. It wasn't so many when he was with John, for obvious reasons, but as he starts his education once he arrives at Willow Inn he starts reading about all these stories from all these different cultures so of course he shares them with cas and dean (further along the healing process so they're all happy together) and he loves telling them these stories about all these crazy things and ideas and fairytales because these they can understand, unlike all the fancy stuff like science he's learning, and he loves seeing their faces as they sit enraptured and happy as he rants excitedly about the so and so tribe and obviously they're happy because he actually gets to learn this stuff but also its stuff that's so beyond their tiny little world and it's so exciting and Sam is so happy to give them this knowledge because their so responsible about taking care of the inn and him but when he tells them stories he gets to see the excited teenagers learning about distand lands and creatures.

with dean, his stories were the ones he could give to Sam. bedtime stories, made up fairytales, little comedic rhymes to help Sam get to sleep. he didn't think much of them, of course, but he found himself enjoying the peaceful moments where he'd be curled up with Sam, talking about the faraway prince, pinching Sam when he interrupted to question him about the details. he liked to drift off into the worlds after Sam had eventually fallen asleep. perhaps the stories always had a central theme, two brothers going on adventures, but they were full of light and happiness and sometimes there wasn't even any bitterness as they recalled their situation (I'm imagining the stories always starting with the same line or something). once they're settled in at willow Inn together, the bedtime stories stop. dean never thought much of them anyways. Sam, he loved them. he'd tell himself his favourite plots and storylines when he was going to sleep, or when he was upset. and maybe at one point when sam is upset at the willow Inn he asks Dean to tell him a story to calm him down, and dean is so happy that he remembered and still thought of them and they sit there together as Dean begins with that same line, knowing that they don't need to desperately imagine any more.

cas's stories, would come as a surprise to sam and dean I think. there are two kinds. the ones he makes up are simple, based around nature, more poetry than anything as it simply praises the idyll he grew up around. theyre not much stories in the way of entertainment, but sometimes, perhaps when it's particularly cold or wet or miserable and they're all tired, they'll all sit in front of the fireplace and listen to cas's soothing voice as he talks about the meandering rivers and the animals and the trees, and describes the way he sees the world in his own unique way. sam and dean love to catch a glimpse of it too. the other type of story is the one that surprises them. cas, of course, has worked in the inn all his life. it wasn't the busiest, but it still got its fair share of traffic and moreover, his lack of talking led to him overhearing some interesting conversations as he worked. and every once in a while he'll slip a little annocdote into a conversation about a man who was going up the country to search for treasure, or the women who believed she'd found her lover in the old minstrel on the hill. Sam and dean love it, and at first cas is a surprised at how fervently they ask for more details (and probably a little uncomfortable) but as they settle down and they get used to his annocdotes, cas becomes more comfortable sharing his thoughts and opinions and guesses about where they end up, and sam and dean learn to treasure his little quips and thoughts and cas gets to share his experiences of the inn and his little section of the memories and lives the inn has held.

I got carried away in this a little, but hopefully this little headcanon does something to brighten your day :))

oh pls get carried away all u want i love this so much!!!!! oh yess sam would love to tell them all about stuff from around the world. and like ur right they will listen while he talks their ears off about math and science but they dont really get what hes talking about. but stories from around the world they love!!!! so he tells them them and reads that shit to them all the time :)

oh my god dean telling sam bedtime stories when theyre miserable just trying to imagine a happier life ;~; and then doing it again when they are happy without the same desperation, just to soothe normally ;~; !!!

cas’s stories make me emotional. u have such a good grip on the characters in the way i think of them it makes me so happy!!! yes yes most of cas’s “stories” would just be him like rambling about the world in a poetic manner...this is so sweet and would be so soothing and they would love it but it is also very funny to me to imagine sam the first time being like tell me a story!!! and cas being like uuuummmm...and then dean being like yeah cas tell us a story it will be fun!!! and then he ends up like monologuing about the migration habits of certain insects in the area. and theyre like. ....what. gvuhij like not that they dont enjoy it for what it is but theyre just like ????????

but then yes them coaxing out little anecdotes and his thoughts later on fcgvhjbhj ahhh i yes yes yes!

#asks #wander home #wander home vibes #prompts #ao3gingerswag

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wholesomemendes · 4 years

Text

Morning Kisses

Summary: Shawn’s home from tour after 3 long months and the two of you decide to just stay in bed all morning.

Author’s Note: This gif I used is from a post by @yashalex and I’ll probably reblog the whole post after this because it was the inspiration for this whole entire fic. Anyways this is about 1.6k of pure fluff of things I want with Shawn so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! As always, please tell me what you think, I love your feedback!

The bright Toronto sun streamed in through the large open windows of the bedroom, a result of the two of you being too caught up in the others’ presence last night to worry about closing the blinds. Shawn’s flight had arrived close to midnight and after he showered to get rid of the awful airport stench, the two of you headed straight to bed, wanting nothing more than to be able to just hold each other all night long. It had been a long 3 months apart and you were planning on making up for lost time at any chance you could before he had to leave again for the next leg of the tour in a couple of weeks. You missed him more than anything in the whole world and no call, text, or FaceTime could ever compare to having him by your side. He pulled you into his arms that night, humming some unknown melody quietly into your ear causing you to fall asleep soundly for the first time since he had left. When you finally awoke, head on his chest and legs intertwined, a small smile graced your face as a content sigh left your lips. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, fingers mindlessly tracing up and down your back, but the even breathing you felt through his chest was enough to tell you that he was still peacefully asleep.

It felt like heaven being so close to him after so long and you couldn’t help but breath in his scent that had slowly begun to fade from all of the clothes of his that you had stolen while he was gone. You were never one to be in love with fragrances until you met Shawn and while you couldn’t quite describe just what he smelled like, to you it always felt like home and love. Your head lifted with each breathe he took, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You took the opportunity to admire him as he slept, blinking your eyes open as you lifted your head slightly to see his relaxed face. Your hands traced his bare chest as you turned your body, never having a single complaint with his habit of sleeping with only sweatpants on so that you could trace his smooth skin when you awoke. You had always loved to gaze at him if you were the first to awake, outlining his beautiful face and chest before he began to stir. A sad smile fell on your lips as you stared at the sleep ridden boy and thought about how this was probably the first time in months that he had slept without worry, knowing how his anxiety and nerves got to him while he was on tour. Every time he came home he had new purple bags under his eyes, a telltale sign of his lack of sleep even if he tried to convince you he was fine. But he wasn’t fine. You wanted nothing more than to take the burden off of his shoulders and make his worries go away, a slight voice in your head always pleading to force him to take a break for his own health. But you stayed silent. You couldn’t ask him to stop the one thing he loved more than anything in the world, even if it meant you had to watch it slowly kill him from the inside out. It made you appreciate the moments when he was with you even more, loving the way the creased lines on his forehead would vanish slowly the more he was around. You cupped his face gently as to not wake him and stroked his cheeks gently with your thumb, giggling to yourself when he absentmindedly leaned into your hand in his sleep like a puppy wanting attention. Your fingers went up to brush through the mess of curls on his head that always seemed to be fluffier and curlier after he went to sleep, enjoying the softness of them between your fingers. Shawn had begun to grow his hair out on tour, much to the dismay of many of his fans, but you weren’t complaining. Not when it meant that there was more of his hair to play with when you gave him head massages, which just happened to be both one of yours and his favorite things to do while cuddling. You threaded your fingers through a particularly knotted section of curls, massaging his head a little to prevent any pain while you pulled your fingers out, earning a sigh that escaped his plump, pink lips.

You traced the outline of his face down to his sharp jawline before placing a soft kiss to his cheek, peppering light kisses down to his jaw and neck. You placed a final one on his collarbone, looking up at him through your lashes to see a content smile playing on his lips. Shawn let out a small groan, tightening his arm around you and turning the both of you on your side, earning a quiet squeal of surprise to leave your mouth. His eyes slowly opened so that you were staring into a pair of honey, brown eyes and a small smile tugged at his lips after seeing the most beautiful woman in front of him. “Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, a lovely rasp accompanying his morning voice as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger on the side of your face to rest on your shoulder. Twisting a piece of your hair between his fingers, he let his gaze fall back to your eyes, and he found himself lost for a moment, thoughts consumed with everything about you.

You stared into his eyes, seeing nothing but love behind his gaze, “I missed you, rockstar.”

“I missed you too, honey, more than you will ever know,” he whispered, bringing his finger to trace down the center of your nose, ending with a tap on your nose as a soft boop escaped his lips. You giggled at the man child in front of you and he took the opportunity to surge forward to meet your lips in a kiss the both of you smiled through. Shawn pulled back carefully, leaving his forehead resting on yours with a hand on your waist to pull your body even closer to his, “I don’t wanna ever leave you again.”

You sighed, rubbing your nose with his, “You say that every time, Shawn.”

“I know, but I mean it this time, I’m just gonna stay here with you forever. Just gonna cuddle you every day of my life.” He rolled you over so your back was pressed against his chest and he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, pressing soft butterfly kisses into his oversized tshirt that adorned your body. His eyes closed again with a smile on his face as his large frame encased your body, legs intertwined with yours as he pulled you tight to his chest. You let yourself live in the fantasy of being like this every morning, never having to worry about waking up to a cold bed, and you allowed your body to relax further into his.

“I wish you were here every morning,” you confessed, “but you know I’d never ask you to do that.”

“I know,” he mumbled into your shoulder, “and you know I’d never ask you to quit your job to come tour with me.”

“It’s like the world is against us all the time. “

“Doesn’t matter what the world thinks, you’re the love of my life and I don’t care if the world wants to believe that or not.”

You blushed at his words, but you could feel the seriousness behind them, and you hated that you made his first morning home so somber, “No music is the love of your life, I’m just the girl that gets to kiss you sometimes.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, his face turning from worried to a feigned offense once he saw your teasing smile when you rolled to face him, “Haven’t you realized that I’ve given all of the love I have to you?”

“What love, I’m so unloved,” you tease, hand coming up to rest dramatically on your forehead, “Never been loved by anyone before, always second place.”

“Oh shut up,” he whined, turning away from you and stuffing his face into his pillow, “You don’t appreciate my love.”

You giggled at his stubbornness, knowing he was hiding a smile behind his hurt facade and scooching closer to his giant body in order to wrap your arm around his chest. “Was just kidding, bubs,” kissing his shoulder tenderly, you let your lips linger on his warm skin, “You know I love you.” Your lips moved to his cheek and he lifted his head to meet your lips, causing your heart to grow at the movements of your lover.

Shawn rolled onto his back and pulled you down so your face was hovering over his, “I love you more than anything, baby.” You leaned down and planted your lips gently on his and he cradled the back of your head carefully. “More than the moon,” he mumbled between kisses, “The stars. And most definitely more than music.” He disconnected his lips from yours to stare into your eyes, a serious look behind his own. ‘You know I’d give it all up for you if you asked,” he told you, cradling your face in his large hands.

“I’d never ask you to,” you murmured, eyes dropping before meeting his again, “But I will be selfish and ask you to love on me while you’re here.”

“Now that’s something I can do easily,” he smiled, lips molding into yours in a passionate kiss as he promised to himself that he would do anything to have a thousand more mornings like this with you.

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