#(also just a psa i am pretty close to their age so....) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bubblyhoney · 4 years ago

Text

win for me

warnings: lAnGuAgE, alcohol consumption (both reader and all other characters are of age to drink), marijuana use, Making Out™️, a miniscule Flowers from 1970 reference. PSA: WHEN UR INTOXICATED AND/OR AT A PARTY, TELL UR FRIENDS WHO YOU WILL BE WITH AND WHERE YOU WILL BE AT ALL TIMES. DRINK AND PARTY SAFELY!

tags: sapnap x fem!reader

summary: a collection of moments throughout the beginning of your relationship

words: 5000

A/N: even though this isn’t my most organized or perfect fic this was so incredibly fun to write. and it’s a college!au!! one of my favs. hope you guys like!! let's pretend the pandemic doesn't exist for this one too (please wear ur masks btw)

Sophomore Year:

Smells like shit in here is your first thought upon entering the laundromat.

It does, in all honesty. What would you expect a place where college students wash three months of dirty clothes and comforters with vomit to smell like? Urine and just a hint of marijuana, incidentally. The door closes noisily behind you and a guy in a black baseball hat turns his head at the noise. Half of his face is hidden underneath the shadow of his scruff and he says nothing, but you still offer an obligatory polite-stranger smile. The place is pretty deserted, what for it being nearly 4 in the morning. And you’re a rare kind of customer; only a few things to wash and you brought your own detergent.

There’s an empty washer next to an old woman in an acid-trip of a parka, and you sweep past the few other patrons with your mesh bag close. The man in the hat nods at you as you pass, looking up from his phone.

Okay. Dark load in one and delicates in the other, you remind yourself. The quarters get pushed through the slot (not without dropping three and having to scramble to pick them up before they disappear between the machines) and you fill the dispensers with a flowery laundry detergent your roommates hates. Oh, and the clothes go in. Done. You relax into a cracked plastic booth around the corner of the machine, pulling a book of crosswords from your bag.

Somebody yelps halfway through filling out a five letter word (“a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep”) and you jump. Baseball Cap rips open the dryer, fumbling around and supplying a pair of gray sweatpants. You can’t help but watch. He digs through both front pockets, pulling out a wad of dollar bills. He sighs, shoves the pants back into the dryer, and starts it with a hard push.

“Gut feeling?” You ask. He looks around for a second and settles his gaze upon you. Nice eyebrows, you think.

“Yeah,” he laughs, slightly nervous. “Yeah. I wore them yesterday and just remembered I put some tip money in my pocket.” Leaning back onto the shelf behind him, he shoves his phone into his pocket and folds his arms tight to his chest.

“I feel you,” you empathize, and set down your pencil. “I washed a parking ticket with my underwear last week.”

He stutters out a laugh, nodding.

“That must’ve sucked,” he adds.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to pay it anyways, but would’ve been nice to keep it for memory’s sake.” Rubbing at your knee offhandedly, you just watch him. He’s cute. And easy to make conversation with.

“Hey, um,” he mutters and clears his throat. “Do you by chance know some guy named Karl? Tall, messy brown hair and a horrible laugh?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Actually—,” you start but huff out a laugh. “Yeah, he’s uh, he’s dating my roommate. Why’d you ask?”

Reaching a hand to rub at his neck, his face twists into something sheepish.

“I’ve seen you at some parties this semester. I didn’t mean to sound creepy like that— I just—yeah.” His cheeks flush pink and he looks down to the ground.

“No worries,” you say, barely even thinking. “I think I’ve seen you too. You’re in Delta Tau Delta, right?”

“Nah, nah,” he laughs. “Just got some friends in there.”

“Ah.” You nod.

The conversation falls into silence, but not uncomfortable silence. He pulls out his phone again, and you look back to the crossword in front of you. The old woman between you leaves with a humongous load of blankets and a small family leaves with a cart full of bags; now it’s just you two.

When the washer with your delicates ding you nearly jump two feet in the air. Exhaling, you set your work down and open the door.

“Shit,” you curse as two bras fall onto the tile. You reach down to get a hand on a black lace bra and hide it quickly under your elbow. A sneaker squeaks loud in the almost-empty room and you see Baseball Cap’s shoulders.

“Here.” He’s kneeling as he hands you your pink bra and you accept it, biting your lower lip.

“Thanks,” you mumbles, slightly embarrassed, and step back to shove those bras and a couple pairs of your underwear into your bag. He offers you a small smile and backs off to his own machines, humming an off-key version of Unchained Melody to himself. Your other load of laundry gets shoved right on top of your delicates.

It’s when you’re nearly out the door, bell jingling, that you think to look back.

“Hey,” you start, almost stuttering for no reason. “What’s your name?”

He turns, dark eyebrows raised.

“My—uh… My friends call me Sapnap. You can call me that too.” Rosy cheeks once again; you seem to be making him awfully nervous.

“Sapnap.” You try it in your mouth, pursing your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you around Sapnap.”

He nods, affirming your statement.

“See you around Y/N.”

It doesn’t hit you until you’re buckling your seatbelt and starting your car that you realize you didn’t tell him your name.

Perhaps he knew more about you than you thought.

Yeah, you laugh to yourself. Karl’s got a big mouth.

Junior Year:

It takes you a collective twelve minutes to go talk to him.

It’s quiet in the library, students that happen to come here to study or procrastinate few and far between the scattered tables. Your poison today is a 4 page history paper on Normandy that you’d been staring at the instructions for for days. You’d already written a bunch of, frankly, horseshit for the body, but the introduction and conclusion were throwing you for a loop.

The vibes in Ridgeback Hall were also certainly off, today more than any other day; the main help-desk was empty and everybody had to do the tedious task of locating niche textbooks themselves.

Lifting your head from the wood of the table, you squint and focus your vision on the guy in the white tee and denim jacket that had been the focus of your thoughts for minutes. He chews at the end of his pencil, mouth screwed up into a ball, and shoots daggers at the empty notebook in front of him. You’re surprised it hasn’t caught on fire yet just from his gaze.

“Sapnap!” You whisper-shout, stretching your arms across the table as if it would make him any closer. A person with purple hair jumps at your voice but turns back to their laptop. “Sapnap!” you try again, tapping two fingers on the table. His head jerks up, eyebrows furrowed and an angry expression on his face, but softens at the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he counters, equally as loud but with a smile on his face.

“What’re you doing?”

“Calculus.” He sticks his tongue out, making an awfully tortured face. You laugh and wave your fingers at him, gesturing for him to come closer. He just huffs out a sigh, stacks all his papers in one pile, and gets up. The trek over to your table is short but he takes it so slowly you wonder if he always walks like that. Like a varsity basketball player who just got off a horse.

“You’re so slow.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles and settles into a chair across from you. “It’s 2 pm, give me a break. I need a Redbull.”

“Those are bad for you, you know,” you say matter-of-factly and drop your chin onto your hand. He’s even cuter from this angle, you think briefly. He just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, Miss I’d-like-some-coffee-with-my-sugar-and-cream,” he teases, pointing to your venti iced coffee. It’s about as pale as the color of a band-aid. You just sigh and close your eyes. “You tired?” He flips his pencil in his hand and leans back into the seat, sighing.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I haven’t slept yet today.”

“Wow, you’re dumb.” He looks scandalized. You just shrug.

“Perhaps. I don’t really know why I did it actually— just for funzies!” You raise an arm but let it drop back down. “I stayed up playing Sims.”

“Feel that. I play Minecraft with my buddies until like 2 am every night too. It’s nice,” he decides and folds his arms across his chest. Your eyes flit over to his strong arms, admiring the way his denim shirt looks around them. Thick.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He says too loudly and it warrants a ‘shush’ from another student. He reddens, but looks back down to you. “I—why do you ask?” You shrug, eyebrows raised.

“Just wondering. You’re too cute to not have one.”

“Right,” he huffs, but his cheeks stay pink. You two fall into easy silence, his eyes trained on the notebook in front of him and yours closed peacefully. “Are you dating anyone?”

They snap open not-so-peacefully.

“Nope. You wanna submit a boyfriend application?” A smile cracks your lips and he grins back.

“Maybe,” he replies and stares at your mouth. “I have to say—,” He stretches into a yawn. “I think I’m qualified.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyebrow quirks. “And why are you so qualified?”

“Well, first of all, I work at Ace Hardware. That’s where cool people work.” He presses one finger into his palm. Then two. “And I have a bunch of free time because said job at Ace Hardware only likes scheduling me in the mornings. Plus, I’m hot.” He shrugs.

You nod faux-seriously, considering his list.

“Those are very good qualities, sir. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” You pause. “Okay, I’ll schedule an interview. How’s 7 pm at the Chili’s on Main? Chili’s is the designated interview place.” You wiggle your eyebrows. He just smiles at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was smooth.”

“Yeah, I know.” You carefully study your nails. “I’m pretty impressive.”

“Clearly,” he mutters and chuckles. “But I do like their salsa. And margaritas. We got a deal?” He holds out a large hand. You take it, squeezing tightly.

“Hell yes.”

When you see the man called Sapnap a week later, you are very obviously in a different state of mind.

Same state, same college town, but very different blood alcohol contents.

“Sappy!” You shout, raising your arms above your head with a stupid grin on your face. He turns, that familiar look of surprise evident in his expression.

“Y/N,” he laughs and approaches your group of friends in the kitchen. It’s Greek Wedding night at Delta Tau Delta, and you assume Sapnap came to support Delta’s “groom” Alex. You’d gotten uncharacteristically drunk, trading air for sangria, and you were now in the incredible stage where everyone was both your friend and your favorite person.

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, you mash your face into his bicep and giggle.

“Missed you so much,” you try to manage out of your mouth, but it comes out slurred and stuttered. “So much.” You’d gone to Chili’s two days before and promised another ‘interview’ in the next few days, but it felt like two months away from your beloved. Beloved friend, that is. Only one date.

“Yeah?” He places a hesitant hand on your back and nudges you into a standing position. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Oh, shhhh,” you mumble and close your eyes. “Only— a lot.” Blinking them back open, you zero your gaze in on a bottle of Ciroc half-empty and looking very tempting on the kitchen island across from where you’re leaned up against the kitchen sink. He catches your gaze and steps in front of you, pleasant face filling your vision. You gasp.

“You are so cute.” Sliding your palms up onto his face, you hold his scruffy cheeks in your hands and smile all dopey at him.

“Is that your brain or the alcohol telling you that?”

“Uh,” you swallow. “Both. And my heart.”

He just shakes his head and his chest moves with a heavy laugh.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Are you having fun?” You ask, all concerned and furrowed eyebrows. You look like you’re genuinely interested and worried about if he’s having a good time or not, and it makes his expression melt.

“I’m having lots of fun,” he passes over his shoulder as he flips on the tap and fills a red solo cup with water. “In fact, I’m gonna have a nice, cold glass of water right now.” He shakes it like an owner offering their dog a treat.

You eye the cup in his hand, having half a thought that this might be some sort of backwards psychology move. The other half wins.

“That sounds so good right now— can I drink some?” Your eyebrows pull together and your bottom lip drops into a pout. It makes him blink for a second. He remembers the little game you’re playing and just hands it over, smug. You gulp it down quickly and crush the empty plastic into your palm with an exaggerated exhale. “Hit the spot,” you sigh, and pat your stomach fondly.

“You hungry?” Sapnap asks you as he steadies you with two hands on your shoulders. Something pops into your head at his words: a set of two McChickens and an Oreo milkshake.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, and mirror him by placing your hands on his shoulders. “Can we go to McDonald’s?”

He just shakes his head, grin wide on his lips, and shrugs. Perfect teeth, you think.

“I haven’t drank anything, so I’m good to drive.” He pulls his keys from his pocket. “I know you’re smashed right now so—do you feel safe with me?” The question falls from his mouth and you truly consider it, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Yeah. I’ll take this just in case,” you say, and take a large dinner fork from the counter next to you. It has some red liquid on it that you brush off onto the fabric of your jeans.

“That’s actually gross.”

“Yeah.” You grip it tighter in your head. “But it’ll do the job if you try any shit. I’ll put this in your eyeball.” Brandishing it, a smile stretches onto your mouth. He just shakes his head and heads for the back door, jerking a hand in your direction to get you to follow him.

The cool night air explodes on your face when you step onto the porch and it makes you blink rapidly. Sapnap is right at your side, offering a forearm as you slowly make your way down the two back porch steps. A tall blonde smoking half of a blunt makes a grunt noise as you two pass and your knight-in-shining armor looks up.

“Gonna go get some food. Want anything?” Sapnap stops on the rocky path to the sidewalk, tilted up to hear the blonde’s response. The other guy shakes his head but nods to you in passing.

“I’ll tell her friends where she went,” says the blonde, and disappears through the sliding glass doors.

Your hand falls from his forearm to his hand and grasps it tightly, swinging back and forth as you stumble to his car. You flash him a grin that he just chuckles at.

“Watch your step,” he warns as you yank on the handle of the passenger door and nearly fall off of the curb.

“I’m fine,” you huff, and scramble to get yourself upright into the seat and buckled. He closes your door and jogs to the driver’s seat, climbing in and starting the engine quicker than your head comprehends.

The small space fills with the sound of Letters to Cleo as he’s maneuvering out of his parking spot and he slaps a hand at the stereo button almost immediately. His cheeks redden as he glances at you once.

“I love Letters to Cleo,” you admit, and switch it back on. Ah, Co-Pilot. A classic. “Be my co-pilot!” You sing, loud and sharp. He shakes his head but huffs out a reluctant laugh.

“My older sister loved them. Bit old for my taste, but—you know. Can’t deny that I love a little bit of 90’s angst.”

“Absolutely,” you nod vigorously and pick at your nail. “Oh!” The fork magically reappears at your side and you grab at it. “For my McChickens.”

“And for me,” he adds.

“Yup. You too.” But you drop it onto the seat and lean forward, fumbling with the volume dial until you feel the lead singer’s voice thumping into your heart. “I love this lady!” You shout and rock your head to the beat.

Shaking his head, his shoulders move in an easy laugh. The drive-thru line is kind of busy for 2 am, he notes, pulling in right behind a navy BMW sedan. But it moves quickly, especially when you’re moving in your seat, scream-singing the lyrics to I Want You To Want Me.

“Yeah,” he says, loud into the mic. “Two.”

“Alright.” The voice reports from the speaker, a background clicking joining their bored tone. “Two McChickens, a double cheeseburger—ketchup and pickle only— , a medium fry, and an Oreo McFlurry. Anything else, sir?”

Sapnap chews on his lip, and glances at you. You just give an encouraging thumbs up.

“That’ll be all,” he reports.

“Second window, and your total is $9.67.”

He barely has time to call a “thank you so much!” before the line ends with a click. Rude.

“Jesus Christ,” you moan the second you sink your teeth into your first sandwich.

“Agreed,” he mumbles and pushes as much cheeseburger he can fit into his mouth.

“This,” you start, swallowing. “is the sexiest thing I’ve encountered in all of my years. I thank all higher powers when I consume McChickens…” Trailing off for dramatic effect, you stare down the sandwich before mimicking a dinosaur war cry and practically shoving it down your throat. He just nods in agreement.

“It’s so nice out tonight,” Sapnap comments, swinging a look out his rolled-down window. He parked right in front of the Campus Quad, large bubbling fountain the show to your dinner. And some geese fighting each other for half a rotting hot dog.

“Mhm.” You crumple up your wrapper trash and toss it into the empty paper bag. “Could totally go for a swim.”

He turns and gives you a look. You look right back.

“Should we?” It’s barely a question.

“Um, hell yes,” is all it takes for you to say before you’re clambering out of the car and starting for the fountain. He follows closely after, jogging to catch up with your borderline track-star sprints.

“Wait up!” He calls as you reach the border of the fountain.

“Ugh,” you sigh, impatient. “Hurry up.”

“Mouthy,” he grumbles before kicking off his shoes and bending to fold his pants up over his knees. You just climb straight in and brave the cold.

Squealing, you hop from one foot to the other, shoulders tight as you get used to the freezing water. He laughs and climbs in right beside you.

“Shit,” he curses, and shivers. “This sucks.”

“You suck,” you quip right back and splash around. He stares, disgusted, at the water soaking up your jeans all the way up to your knees.

“You’re gross for wearing jeans in a fountain. That’s worse than wet socks.” He starts to move around as feeling comes back into his toes.

“What, would you prefer me taking my pants off?” A sassy look paints your face and he rolls his eyes.

“No, but you could’ve folded them up like a normal person.”

“I think you forget,” you start, and splash a palmful of water his way. “I’m quirky.”

He gasps, face twisting as the water hits his thighs.

“You’re dead.”

If campus police were patrolling the Quad right now, they’d see two college juniors wading around in a fountain, water up to their knees, having a competition to see who can inflict the most damage. He won, it seems, because your shirt is drenched all the way up to your ribs.

“Okay!” You shout, hands spread to brace yourself. The water in his palm falls. “I’m cold and I want my other McChicken.”

“Fine,” he sighs, and with some difficulty manages to get out of the fountain and back into his shoes. You just make your way back over to his car barefoot, braving the mulch and poorly-sanded concrete.

You both finish your food quickly, discussing menial things like how fast food restaurants always skimp on the pickles and how it’s truly a disservice to the world that so many people don’t know it’s Biggie singing the song Kat dances on the table to in the 1999 classic 10 Things I Hate About You.

When Sapnap pulls up to your house, he shifts the car into park and lets loose a heavy sigh. You whip around, hand on your buckle, and sport a very confused look on your face.

“I’m tired,” is all he says. Head falling onto the seat, he rolls over to give you a half-lidded look. You nod empathetically and climb very carefully out of his passenger seat. Your drunk muscles haven't caught up to your mainly sober brain, which is impairing your ability to look like a functioning human being.

“Thank you for tonight,” you chirp, smiling in at him with your arms folded on the open window sill. The half-drank Oreo McFlurry is lukewarm in your hand. He stares at your flushed lips.

“Anytime you want a drunk McChicken let me know.” He winks. “I have a gift card.”

“You spoil me,” you coo, and step up onto the sidewalk. “I’ll see you sometime soon, yeah?”

He nods, pursed lips fighting a grin.

Cute, you both think at the same time.

Sometime soon, somehow, means the very next day.

It’s breezy yet uncharacteristically hot out, and certainly way too bright for a hungover Y/N.

You’re sat on the porch swing, nursing a hot decaf coffee with lots of sugar and cream. Sunglasses sit comfortably on your nose, but you still have to squint. The pills you took have yet to kick in, so all you have to do is wait and try not to vomit into your mug. Suddenly, your phone lights up and buzzes to life. You press the green button and lift to your ear.

“What do you want?” Your voice is awfully froggy, you realize, and clear your throat.

“Good morning to you too.” Sapnap’s voice rings clear yet husky into your ear. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile. God, you’re whipped just for the sound of his voice.

“It is definitely not a good morning,” you grumble and switch him into speaker phone. You drop the phone into your lap and stretch out further on the swing.

“Good morning for me,” he chirps cheerfully. “Take anything for the headache?”

“Yes,” you report, sounding like a pouting child and rubbing two fingers into your temple. “Some idiot fed me ice cream last night so this morning I woke up having to both shit and throw up.”

“Aww,” he sympathizes, sounding way too entertained. “That sounds like a you problem.” You stuck out your tongue, but upon realizing he can’t see it, make a ‘hmph’ noise into the mic. “Anyways. I called to see if you wanted to go get breakfast with me. Waffle House, specifically.” You make a face but lift yourself up off the swing, wincing.

“I saw a rat eat an entire piece of french toast there once. But—sure. I’ll pay.” He starts to whine, but you scoff. “Let me love you, bitch. You pay for my McDonald’s and I pay for your pancakes. Easy trade.”

“Whatever. See you in five.” He hangs up right as you twist the front door open and drop your phone onto the couch.

“Who’re you talking to?” comes from the kitchen and you jump, pressing a hand to your chest. A shirtless Karl enters the living room with a bowl of fruit loops in his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, and duck into the hall closet for your pair of dirty tennis shoes. “I was talking to Sapnap.”

“Oh,” he says around his mouthful of cereal with a grin. “You guys dating yet?”

You pass him a weird look, bending to tie your shoes.

“Gimme like two weeks. I’ll have him at my beck and call,” you laugh and collapse back into the couch.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He quirks an eyebrow and exits stage left into your roommate’s room.

The few minutes it takes for Sapnap to come to your house are short but filled with contemplation. Do you really want to date him? He’s certainly cute enough. Nice enough. And smart enough. He seems to like you too—

A honk interrupts your thoughts. Always having to be obnoxious, huh?

“You’re annoying,” you mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He just shrugs, tiny smile tugging his lips, and shifts into drive. The short trip to Waffle House proves more quiet than lively. He seems awake, actually, so you attribute the silence to your tumultuous thoughts. The music is nice, though. Bikini Kill is perfect for 10 am.

After you two order (three chocolate chip pancakes for him and two regular waffles with a side of hashbrowns for you), he finally breaks the silence.

“Hey, are we dating?”

You pause with your lip on the rim of your orange juice. Your gaze falls from his lips to his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug. Two silver rings adorn both his middle fingers and they glint underneath the fluorescent lights.

“Do you wanna?” You squint back up at him. The tips of his ears flush pink.

“I-uh… Yeah. Yes,” he says simply. You try to hide a smile, but realize there’s no point.

“Okay.” You take a long drink of your orange juice. “I really like you. A lot. A surprising amount, actually; I haven’t really dated seriously since highschool.”

He nods, shuffling his feet on the tile. What else does he have to be nervous about? you wonder.

“I’ve… kindasortamaybelikedyousincesophmoreyear,” he mumbles and you swallow.

“Huh?” Leaning forward, you set your glass down.

“Um,” he starts but doesn’t finish.

“Did you say you’ve liked me since sophomore year?”

“...Maybe.” His coffee becomes the most interesting thing in the world, apparently. “Do you remember that one time during the Summer Carnival where Karl lost his phone?”

“Uh—yes! Yeah, actually. I do remember that. He found it in the porta-potty. What about it?” The waitress sets down both your plates in front of you and you offer her a smile in thanks before she trundles off to the drink station. You pick up your fork and wait for him to continue.

“I left two hours early because you invited Michael from your computer science class.” You pause around your mouthful of potato and he just stares back, trying not to grin. “Yeah. I thought you were hot and left early because you brought another guy.”

“Michael is gay,” you say slowly.

“Yup.” He nods and shoves a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “Isn’t that so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you tease but your cheeks blush pink.

“Anyways. Now I’m dating you, so. Win for me.”

“Ditto,” you murmur, and manage to fit half of your first waffle into your mouth. “This is the easiest it’s ever been to start dating someone.”

“It’s ‘cause we’re cool, I’m pretty sure,” comes from a mouthful of pancake.

“That’s facts.”

The rest of Pancake House is bustling, a few families with young kids and some other hungover college students scarfing down similar breakfast foods and confections. You two barely give any other customers the time of day, too wrapped up in conversation and each other. The waitress gets a heavy tip after an hour and a half of struggling to swallow dough soaked in syrup and chocolate.

Sapnap walks you to your door after breakfast, hand on your waist and pressed to your side. It feels good. Right.

“I’ll see you Wednesday right?” You ask, turning to him with hopeful eyes. How could he resist?

“Definitely. Wouldn’t miss Game Night for the world— I can’t wait to beat your ass at Uno.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You murmur but you’re already slinging an arm around his shoulder and bringing his mouth down to yours.

You taste like sugar, he thinks. His hands find the small of your back easily, pressing you further forward into him. You hum at that, tracking a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair to grip it between your fingers.

He smells both musky and sweet and cool at the same time: heaven. One of his hands slides up to grip at your neck, thumb rubbing at your jaw, and you make a pleased noise into his mouth. There it is.

“Y/N!” Shrieks from inside your house and you jump, pulling away from Sapnap with a smack.

“What?” You yell back, irritated, and he just laughs as he dips to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Stop tonguing your boyfriend and come help me with my photography project.”

“God damn it,” you sigh and drop your hands. His slide down to just rest on your hips, comfortable. “I have to go.” You're annoyed, that’s for sure, and he prays you aren’t too mean to your roommate.

“Alright.” He dips for a quick kiss one last time. Okay, two more times. Maybe three. But he pulls away, grinning. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

And then he’s stepping off your porch, walking to his car with his hands in his pockets. You watch his back fondly.

God, boyfriend. He’s your boyfriend. Boynap. Sapfriend. You can’t decide on a name, but all sounds perfect.

Perfectly him.

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comments = welcome!

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x reader #sapnap x fem!reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap fic #sapnap oneshot #mcyt imagine #bubblyhoneyfics #mcyt x you

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 3 years ago

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Disclaimer tho, all my knowledge of the fandom is strictly from fanfic and google. I don't read the comic or watch the anime. I only have some vague knowledge of what's canon or not and making this fanfic has been somewhat of a fever dream.

Tags: Fluff and angst. Attempt at humor. Crying. Probably ooc. No smut, just holding hands and some hugging and some kissing. Shouto smokes, and probably incorrect depictions of smoking. Implied child abuse (you know who). Lowkey Fuyumi bashing.

Warning: In character cussing from explodo boy.

Summary:

They found each other in coinciding vulnerability. Shouto was smoking, Katsuki was crying. Miraculously, no one died. It seems that vulnerability is exactly what they need to get through their respective problems, because vulnerability makes them do the one thing the two boys are allergic to do, opening up.

Or, Shouto and Katsuki cope with each other. It miraculously didn't end in explosions, just a lot of physical affections and crying.

Words: 10.9 k

You don’t have to take life so seriously Shouto! It can be whatever you want to be, it’s yours!

Shouto knocks his head back and parts his lips. White ribbons bleed to the orange sky. The clouds are pretty pink instead of white. The smoke doesn’t blend in with the white clouds anymore like a few hours ago. He taps the amber ash on the portable coffin-shaped ashtray. More than a dozen filter buds crammed there.

He should go back to his room. Any darker then it would be noticeable when goes back to his room. But there’s always that small whisper at the back of his head: Maybe after one more. This spot has been his salvation from overstimulation. It’s the highest building in UA, the rooftop of the dorm. He’s been here for two years and has always been alone.

The door slammed open.

High on nicotine, Shouto passes through shock to immediate acceptance that he’s busted.

Only, he’s not busted. The next sound that came is sobbing. The first thing he sees is awry blond hair and a tear-streaked red face. Soon came the already red blood-shot eyes, staring at him with a sadness that not even in Shouto’s wildest imagination can imagine on Bakugou’s face. It takes a few seconds too long for the default glare and anger to return.

“The fuck are you doing here!” He yells, his voice croaks in a not angry way. Wet and breaking at the pitch.

Shouto, still a bit floaty and relaxed from the nicotine in his system, nor is he yet to register the shock from seeing Bakugou’s tears, just points down towards his fingers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” his voice is scratchy, a tad bit deeper. He never smoked so many that that happened. Then again, today is a special day.

Seemingly just as shocked, Bakugou seems to still. Shouto expects crackling hands, bared teeth, or maybe a ‘TELL ANYONE AND DIE’, but never that he strides his way and sits on the floor beside Shouto.

“Still have one of those?” Bakugou leans back.

Wordlessly, Shouto digs the last pack from his pocket. There are six left. Bakugou takes one, and Shouto lit a fire on the tip of his thumb towards Bakugou.

“How do you do this?” Bakugou says, eyeing the fire.

“You’ve never done this before?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I have Icyhot! Now fucking tell me already.”

“You put it between your lips, and inhales a bit as you put this corner on the fire.” Shouto crowds him cupping the end of the smoke with his palm and keep the fire controllably small. It feels like Deja Vu, but this time, Shouto is showing someone how to smoke instead.

Bakugou tries, and before Shouto can say to take it slow, Bakugou already choked and doubled over coughing. Shouto pats his back.

“What the fuck was that!” Bakugou roars and grimaces when he sees the stacks of cigarette buds on his ashtray. “How the fuck do you smoke that many!”

Shouto shrugged, “I’m used to it.” He puts out his bud on top of the pile and picks up the mostly one-piece cigarette that Bakugou chucked to the floor and lights it up. He feels eyes on him as he put the filter on his lips and lit it up in one smooth move.

With the cigarette properly lit, he offered, “Wanna try again?”

“No! That shit’s nasty.” Bakugou snarled at the hand holding the smoking cig.

“Suit yourself,” Shouto takes a deep drag and sighs. Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t up and leave, and more so that Shouto doesn’t mind the silence.

Alas, it only lasted exactly 33 seconds.

“How the fuck did you get in here!” Bakugou grumbles, “The door was locked.”

“I made ice stairs from my balcony.”

“Like how Elsa did?”

“Exactly like Elsa did, she was my inspiration.”

Bakugou snorts. No sadness left, just a condescending smile, which is better than the ghostly tears in his eyes.

“How did you get in through the locked door?”

“How else would you think?” Bakugou lifts his hand, cradling a small cluster of explosions.

Shouto face palmed, dragging it down.

“What?” Bakugou barks.

“Well when they figured out the door broke then they gonna figure out that someone’s been here, don’t they?”

“That nicotine is already killing your fucking brain cells.”

“That’s not how it’s-”

“Let’s get the fuck outta here before anyone finds us you loon.”

“But I-”

“You’ve burned through enough death sticks, let’s go!” Bakugou grabs his hand and pulls him up.

“Fine fine, let me tidy up.” Shouto could barely close his ashtray with all the buds in it, and he dusted the ashes that drops to the floor.

Shouto already makes the stairs down to his room before looking back at Bakugou, “Want me to drop you to your balcony?”

“I don’t know,” Bakugou narrows his eyes dangerously, “Will it suddenly melts away as I walk on it?”

Shouto huffs, “You have no faith in your favorite sparring partner?”

“The only thing I learned these past couple of years with you being shoved at my face as my sparring partner is that you’re a little shithead.”

Shouto makes the stairs towards Bakugou’s room first, reveling in how badly Bakugou tried to cover his amazement at the stairs.

“Just like Elsa’s, right?”

“You want me to give you Elsa’s number 1 simp trophy?”

Shouto melts Bakugou’s step and lets him fall blond head first into his balcony.

“YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR THAT, COCA-COLA SHITHEAD!”

Bakugou roars, and Shouto giggles as he jumps upstairs to his room with explosions fading behind him.

Not until he’s laying in bed that night that he thinks about Bakugou’s tears again. Rest assured, his imagination spiraled to ‘what could it be’ until 4 am.

++++

I don’t understand why your dad wants you to be number one when he should’ve want you to just be happy. Nothing in life really matters unless you’re happy.

Shouto loves everything about living in the dorm, but it has one and only one weakness. He can’t smoke as freely.

His dad knows and just rant about how it’ll affect his performance.

Now, Aizawa knows, and he’s at the principal’s office.

Shouto instantly knows how. Bakugou broke the rooftop door. Iida must’ve found it, reported it to Aizawa-sensei. Maybe his homeroom teacher has magnifying vision too because Shouto could’ve sworn he left no trace.

Yet Shouto can’t find it in him to blame anyone. He knows as an aspiring hero he shouldn’t smoke, those reasons never matter at those desperate times he needed to smoke.

“Tea?” Nezu raises his pot of pink teapot, Shouto narrows his eyes at the paw (how did that paw hold the teacup?)

“Yes, thank you.” The cup is equally pink, with two cheerful yellow flowers on each side. This looks like a tea set Eri had.

Shouto sips the possibly herbal tea, trying to ignore the glare Aizawa-sensei is sending his way from beside Nezu.

“Todoroki, how long have you been smoking?” His sensei’s voice gravels, like he just woke up from bed, his bed hair supports the theory.

Apparently a little mental, Shouto said, “Overall or in school?”

“Both.”

“Started when I was in first-grade junior high school.” As soon as he has any time away from home. “In UA, as soon as I stayed at the dorm.”

“Now, Todoroki,” Nezu put his paws together, “You know someone as young as you shouldn’t smoke. You’re underage, and an aspiring hero on top of that...”

Nezu then continues his PSA on smoking. Nothing Shouto hasn’t heard. Every word goes in the left ear and came out the right. He also isn’t surprised that Aizawa will be taking his stash of cigarettes. It doesn’t suck as much because Shouto doesn’t have a lot left anyway, nor is he been regularly smoking. He smokes when he’s stressed and nothing else could calm him down. He never reached out to the cigs first. The coffin-shaped portable ashtray reminded him that.

As soon as he’s back at the dorm, he’s greeted with a cheerful environment. Half his classmates are hanging in the living room. There’s a group playing Mario Party, a group that’s putting on nail art, and a group that seems to cook something ambitious. Shouto usually joins the group, but not today.

“Todoroki!” Iida comes from the hall, “Aizawa-Sensei came earlier and ran through your room! He seems to confiscate a pack of cigarettes. I’ve tried to tell him that it’s all a misunderstanding-”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Todoroki! At our young age as aspiring heroes we sho-”

“Nope, sorry not today Iida. Good night.”

Todoroki feels a few eyes on his back, but he walks on. With him naturally keeping things to himself, his friends tend to worry but they trust him to reach out to them in his own time. When it gets too long they usually check up on him. Shouto wished they never will.

+++++

You have the power to be whatever you want, but why are you following the wishes of someone you hate? I know he’s your dad, but your life is yours, Shouto.

Shouto’s wish didn’t come true when Bakugou bugs him on the rooftop again two days after he was raided.

It’s Deja Vu, but fewer tears from Bakugou and Shouto isn't a pack and a half deep in cigarettes.

“I fucking know you’d be at my spot again!” Bakugou spat scathingly.

“Excuse you,” Shouto scowls, “I’ve been smoking at this spot since the dorm opens. This is my spot.”

“Well, I’ve been- I’ve been-” Shouto should’ve known that Bakugou would turn red and explodes instead of admitting he’d been caught emoting, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway! You’re doing nothing!”

“No thanks to someone.”

Bakugou narrows his eyes, confused at the implication, but his exploding friend is smart, so he figured it out, and isn’t happy with what he figures out. “The fuck, get your accusing eyes away from me discount Sans, I don’t tattle.”

“No, but you exploded the door which leads to Iida reporting it, which leads to Aizawa inspecting the premises, and him figuring it out that smoked here.”

“That’s just your fucking fault for not covering your trace clean!”

Shouto inhaled indignantly, but then too tired to justify himself. There’s no ending of arguing with Bakugou, and Shouto had learned to choose his battles.

“How about you? How did you get in here?”

“Stole a key from Iida.”

“Are you here to cry again?”

Bakugou’s palms explode, his face an embarrassed flush and teeth bared in anger, “WHOS FUCKING CRYING!!?”

“I have eyes.”

“You’ve been sucking on those death sticks way too much.”

“I wasn’t smoking that type of substance.”

“Whatever, I’m not dealing with this,” Bakugou turns to step away.

“I don’t get it, it’s not a big deal!” Shouto raises his voice a bit, for some reason his heart rate picks up when Bakugou starts leaving. “So what if you sweat through your eyes? Midoriya does it almost every day, sometimes twice a day...”

“Don’t fucking compare me to fucking Deku you fucking fried ice cream!”

“...And Midoriya beat you at this year’s Sports Festival,” Shouto dismissed.

Bakugou grits his teeth, but his eyes watch over Shouto. “Stop stalling and tell me what you want from me,” Bakugou growls.

Shouto’s eyes widen at the sudden honesty, he nibbles on his bottom lips, “Stay here?”

For a second, Bakugou glares at him, but after two years of being his classmate, Shouto can confidently say that they’re friends. He knows Bakugou isn’t angry at him. As to prove his point, Bakugou sits beside him, a bit closer than Shouto expects him to, though still with that permanent scowl. Shouto moves his palms from his pocket, letting go of the aluminum ashtray. Shouto tests the waters and moves closer so their shoulder bumps. No explosions, no snarl, success.

Instantly, Shouto relaxes. Focusing on the pressure of their shoulders, the light shifts Bakugou does (because he can never fully stay still), and the clouds moving. No thought, just being alive.

Alas, no quiet ever lasted long with Bakugou, he expected it though.

“No wonder Aizawa figured it out, this place still stinks of tobacco.”

“It does?” Shouto takes a deep sniff, all he smells is Bakugou’s sweat that always smells sweet because of his quirk. “I didn’t smell anything.”

“Yeah no shit scar head, your nose is probably numb at this point.”

“I don’t smoke that much.”

“Said someone who smoked more than a dozen in one sitting,” Bakugou’s nags turns to worry, “Damn, was it really in one sitting?”

“Is that worry I detected?” Shouto deflects.

Bakugou grits his teeth, “I’m not worried! Go die off lung cancer I don’t fucking care!”

“Good, then, because yes it was, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Fucking hell it’s not! What the actual fuck are your lungs made of? I barely suck it past my throat and I almost coughed out my insides.”

“I missed your dramatics,” Shouto says genuinely, and he waits for an explosion to come. Bakugou doesn’t do well with praises thinly veiled with snark.

It never came, Bakugou watches him closely instead, “Yeah? And who’s fault is that?”

Shouto dared to glare back, but it didn’t last long, he knows the answer. Shouto had come out of his shell nicely, as Momo had put it. He’s still awkward, can’t really quite grasp ‘pop culture’ and how to correctly implied it, but he regularly hangs out with his friends. As of late, he’s noticeably withdrawn. Going straight to his room after class, and opting out of game nights, nail nights, and even soba nights.

They had been giving him space, which he finds endearing. Of course, Bakugou isn’t one to give anything liberally.

“Mine...” Shouto admits, and Bakugou looks surprised.

The fun part of befriending Bakugou is that Shouto could be a bit of a bitch and Bakugou would be a bitch back, and it wouldn’t matter. No one’s feelings were hurt, and Shouto can let go of steam without guilt. Shouto could’ve been in denial, said that Bakugou should step off his dick and no feelings would be hurt.

But he had enough of space, though admittedly, he should’ve confessed that with someone that wants to be in his space.

“Finally, you’re done moping around, everyone’s been on my ass worrying about you.”

“Why would they be on your ass?”

“Hell would I know.”

“Was that the reason you cried?” Shouto is just teasing, but the grim in Bakugou’s face isn’t a familiar one.

“I told you that didn’t happen!” he growls lowly.

Shouto considers, clueless yet curious. “I’ll tell you about me if you told me about you.”

“Just because you’re vomiting your crisis that I didn’t ask for, doesn’t mean I’m obligated to do the same!”

“Okay, that’s fine too.”

“No, shut-”

“My mom and dad are getting back together.”

Bakugou’s expression mellows to confusion, “That sounds convoluted as hell. Didn’t they just got a divorce or something?”

“They never got a divorce. She’s just sent to a mental hospital and never came home, doesn’t mean the marriage is legally broken.”

The fact seems to sink slow with his explosive friend, “What the fuck.”

Shouto sighs, looking down his jittery hands, his mouth dries. “Last year when I visited my mom, we were talking about the future. She said she’d filed for a divorce, and I’d live with her.” Shouto feels oddly numb, but there’s this dull ache deep in his chest that’s constant. “I should’ve known. She said that before he ‘tried to change’... she said that when everything was still bad, she thought it still happened.”

“What still happened?” Bakugou sounds angry, but he always does.

“I got hurt a lot when I was a kid, because of training. She thought he still hurts me.”

He felt the shoulder beside him tensed. Beside Shouto’s jittery hands is Bakugou’s clenched shaking fist. Shouto looks up from their laps and finds that Bakugou’s face... an eerie stoic.

“Hmmm,” Bakugou hums, and a chill runs down his spine. “When did you start training by the way?” not even a curse in that sentence.

Shouto realizes then, this is Bakugou truly angry, even though Shouto can’t figure out why on earth would he be.

“The day after my quirk manifested.”

His childhood is unforgettable. The day his training starts with fear and pain, then ends with exhaustion and anger. The day Touya never came back, the day his mom left, the longing stare towards the backyard wanting to play with his brother and sister. He remembers it all, like a tattoo in his memory.

“We been knew that Endeavor was an ass but I didn’t know he’s a fucking child abuser.”

The words snap him away from his musing. This time, Bakugou looks angry angry. Teeth-gritting, scowling, boiling anger.

Oh, that’s why he’s angry.

“It was training.”

“Not at five fucking years old you e-boy himbo!” Bakugou barks.

“That’s new, what’s a himbo?”

“Not the fucking point!” Bakugou takes his shoulder away, and suddenly Shouto feels cold. Then he’s held by his shoulders, pinned by sharp maroon eyes, and the lack of warmth turns cold when a growl says, “You’re telling me that your dad’s been abusing you, and no one stopped him? And he’s fucking getting away with it??”

There are so many things wrong with that question and implied statement. One is that it was not abuse. Two is that no one could’ve stopped the then number two hero. Three is that Shouto didn’t tell him any of that but Bakugou assumed anyway.

Shouto doesn’t get to say all of it as Bakugou lets go of him and takes deep breaths. Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly displeased at what he’s thinking.

“Why did you think your mom wants to get back together with your dad?”

Shouto feels relieved now they’re back on topic, “I don’t know. It feels like one moment she’s afraid of him, and now she wants to be with him again. I guess... he did ‘try to be better’. Everyone else seems to forgive him, but I can’t.”

Then Bakugou does something that he didn’t expect, he defends them, “I mean... He’s not that much of a dick now, right? He’s a dick but he was pretty alright when we have a work-study at his agency. And your mom’s better, so maybe they could make it work?”

Shouto knows it’s technically true, but displeasure clawed him still, his blood boiling.

“I don’t care whether it works! I hated that she forgives him so easily!” Shouto shouts.

“Well, that’s selfish of you, isn’t it! It’s her decision, not yours!” Bakugou barks back.

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Shouto spats, he stands up, “They’re going to destroy each other, and what then? Do they want me to just look at their trainwreck while they insist everything is okay? No! I’m not going through that again!”

“You’re just not trusting your mom! Things changed!” Bakugou stands up too, he looks exceptionally angrier than ever.

“No, I don’t. Especially after she said she wanted to get a divorce with him then changing her mind only a year later. Of course, I don’t trust her!”

“But isn’t it better to have both your parents together?”

“No, it doesn’t especially when she’s not happy!”

Bakugou doesn’t bark back, and Shouto only realized how Bakugou’s question was laced with a cracked voice. Shouto looks, only partially surprised that the eyes that look back thinly veiled with tears. The heat in his bloodstream wanes out, more worried/horrified that Bakugou is now openly crying.

This is the worst. Both of them are socially awkward lone wolves that have no idea how and what to do with emotions. So, Shouto does his #best.

“You can tell me.”

Bakugouu glares. Okay, so maybe Shouto’s #best isn’t what he needs.

“Only if you want, if you don’t then it’s okay too.”

“Shut the fuck up, thermostat.”

What else do you do when someone cried? Shouto racks his memories of times when he was crying a lot when he was little, trying to find examples he could follow. He remembers his mom.

“Come here.”

“The fuck are you trying to-”

Shouto cuts him off with a hug. It’s as awkward as it comes. Shouto has his arms around the broad shoulders, his chin hooked on the right side. Shouto doesn’t know how tight he should hug, but it’s enough to press their chest together. Then one of his arms, the left one, rubs Bakugou’s back, emitting a slight warmth. In two languid swipes, Bakugou’s tenseness bleeds slowly.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Shouto says, mimicking what his mom had said once upon a time when he’s upset. “But it’ll be okay. Maybe it’ll take a long time, or it’ll be really hard, but you...” have me, you don’t have to deal with everything alone, was what his mom finished with. He doesn’t know if Bakugou would see him as reliable, but Fuyumi had said that intentions are the most important. “You have your friends, and you have me. I don’t know what will help, but I’ll do it if you asked.”

Shouto surprised himself that he means it. When he encounters an emotionally fragile situation, he usually gets Midoriya, or Urakara, or Momo to handle the situation. With Bakugou however...seeing that his usually prickly friend tipping at the edge like this, Shouto felt like he wants to help. Perhaps it was the camaraderie of the S.S. Emotional Constipation that makes him reach out his personal hand towards Bakugou.

Shouto found another surprise when Bakugou hugs him back, his spiky blond head tucked at the crook of his neck. Shouto also didn’t expect the reflex tears pooling in his eyes at the feeling of tightening arms around his torso. He’s being held, tight and needy. When was the last time he’s held like this? Tears pours without his will when he realized the last time someone hugged him was Touya as Dabi when he was about to burn himself along with Shouto.

They stay there on the rooftop just holding each other as if they’ll fall apart if they don't. When Bakugou lets go, his eyes are even redder than it already is. When those red eyes look up, he noticed the tear streak down Shouto’s face and doesn’t comment about it.

Instead, Bakugou says, “My parents are splitting up.”

Shouto says nothing, only to pull him in his arms again.

They say nothing else as they sit at the same spot on the concrete floor leaning on each other, hand in hand. Shouto instinctually teared up again when he remembered the last time someone holds his hand was his mom as she walked him to a park, all those years ago. Other than that, it was for survival and fighting.

Bakugou leans his head on Shouto’s shoulder first, Shouto says nothing about it. He then leans his face on top of Bakugou’s hair, it feels like a bed of grass, Bakugou says nothing about it too. Shouto realizes that Bakugou can be vulnerable as long as no one points it out. Being untalkative, Shouto can do just that.

The future is scary, especially when their supposed foundation is changing. Bakugou’s foundations are breaking apart, while Shouto had grown accustomed to the torn apart pieces now move together crossing fingers that they fit.

But the future is for tomorrow. The changes are not theirs to make. All they can do now is hold themselves together as everything changes, hoping they don’t break in the process.

Eventually, nightfalls, but none of them moved. Shouto suspects that Bakugou might be sleeping on him.

It’s a suspicion no more when Aizawa found them there, and Bakugou doesn’t stir from being found. Those tired eyes already look exasperated as he finds Shouto’s tear-streaked eyes looking back.

Aizawa sighs, “Is it life-threatening ?”

Shouto knows that the teacher is prone to worries despite his appearance. Their stumble at first year seems to scar him and made him extra vigilant with his students ever since.

“There’s nothing we could do about it,” Shouto says, which is true, but seemingly a wrong thing to say.

“That doesn’t answer my question, trouble child.” Aizawa scowls, which means his worry cranked up to max. “Are the both of you facing a problem that harms you, or threatening your life?”

“It’s nothing like that,” says the bundle of blond in his shoulder. Bakugou sits up and stretches, yawning so big his jaw seems to unhinge a bit. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. “It’s family drama, you know how it is.”

“Is it really just drama?” Aizawa squints at Bakugou, too knowing for someone without a mind-reading quirk.

Bakugou looks at Shouto, searching and prodding. Shouto doesn’t understand what he could be looking for, or what he wants. Bakugou just sighs, “Yeah, just drama.”

Aizawa looks at Shouto too and softens. “If you two need to cuddle you can just do it in your respective room.”

“Nah, too many nosy people.” Bakugou starts to leave.

Shouto follows with a “Good night Sensei.”

Aizawa grunts.

“We can use my Elsa stairs,” Shouto pipes in as he walks alongside him.

Bakugou looks at him and huffs, “Turns out you’re not a himbo after all.”

Since Bakugou won't tell him, Shouto looks up ‘himbo’ himself. This raises a lot of questions about how Bakugou has been seeing him, but Shouto decides that he’d be offended by it.

++++++

You could still be lonely even though you have tons of sibling, or even when they really love you. I guess they just don’t know how to show us they love us.

He really should’ve known. He really should’ve fucking known.

The thought spins in his head as he smoked the last cigarette on his freshly bought pack. No one to catch him this time. It’s the weekend and he’s supposed to be at home, but it’s unbearable to be in the same room with his family. Usually, he could just slurp his soba in feigning ignorance but not now.

He’s sitting by the bench of a lonely park. He’s been sitting here since sun down. He has no idea what time it is. His phone in his pocket is on silent, he hasn’t checked on it since he walked out.

He should’ve stayed at the dorms, fuck the family dinner.

It’s not that Shouto wants things to end up badly. It’s not like he doesn’t want to be home, especially since his mom finally comes home after so many years. Everyone is happy that she’s back, even Natsuo, even his dad. Everyone except her. It looks so hard for her to be there. Shouto can see in her face that some places still hold strong bad memories for her.

His mother is strong because she pulls through. She holds herself through it all even though it seems only barely.

Yet why is he still so angry at her? Maybe not angry, frustrated. Shouto wants to ask her clarity. Why is she doing this? Why did she change her mind? Why come back here? Why not grasp the independence she had been telling Shouto she strived for? Was she coaxed to be here? Was she feeling some kind of responsibility to go back here? To salvage that sham of a marriage she had with Endeavor?

Shouto wants to ask, wants to understand. He crowded her with questions that moment when they said they’d be getting back together, only for his mom to wince, eyes widen, and quickened breath. For the second time in his life, his mom had looked at him with fear. Today, Shouto could barely meet her eyes again.

Is he really such a monster in her eyes just because he’s half his father? Then why go back to his father at all?

Shouto bought half a dozen packs as per tradition. Also because of his self implied tradition, he puts all the ashes in the coffin-shaped ashtray, even though there’s a park ashtray right beside him.

“You carry that everywhere,” Says a groveling voice that Shouto would notice anywhere.

Bakugou is in casuals. Black jeans and a grey hoodie seem like he’s out in a hurry. Just like Shouto.

“You’ve got to stop stalking me,” Shouto inhales deep, watching red amber burns till the filter and sighs.

“Who fucking stalking you Zuko.”

“Zuko doesn’t have-”

“Shut up,” Bakugou plop his ass beside Shouto, sitting waaay too close. He snatched the coffin tin, inspecting it. “Even when you didn’t smoke you carried this.”

“How did you know?”

“It shows your pocket, not big enough for a phone.”

Shouto knows he can’t get away once Bakugou began prying. “My first friend gave it to me.”

“That fucking Deku???”

“No,” Shouto chuckles at the image of Midoriya taking the role of what his first friend did. “It’s someone I met first-year junior high. She gave me this after introducing me to cigarettes.”

“That’s so fucking passive-aggressive I would’ve punched her in her teeth,” Bakugou grumbles, putting the ashtray to Shouto’s lap. “And why the fuck would anyone smoke at thirteen anyway!”

“Exactly because we’re thirteen, Katsuki, just because,” Shouto chuckles again at the memory. Seemingly too carefree from the nicotine, Bakugou had become Katsuki in his tongue. Katsuki bristles at his given name, but says nothing about it. It mysteriously made Shouto very happy.

“Among everything though, she was my first best friend, she teaches me a lot of things that make me who I am. She made me realize that I didn’t have to follow my dad’s wishes. That I can be what I want to be instead of what I was born for. That it’s valid to be lonely even though I technically have a big family. That it’s okay to not strive to be the best and just to be... happy.”

Shouto closes his eyes, remembering her lessons always fell bitter-sweet. But he’ll hold it in his heart forever.

“What you’re born for?” Katsuki says scathingly.

“Yeah, you know about this.” Shouto was told that Katsuki had eavesdropped on his conversation with Midoriya. Shouto was born to fulfill another man’s vendetta. A purpose first, and a son last.

“Seem like a wise person for a thirteen-year-old,” Katsuki sneers.

“She was, I loved her,” Shouto’s confession brings Katsuki’s face to a red grimace.

“Shit, I didn’t ask you to tell me your fucking secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Oh, really?” Katsuki spat bitterly, “Then why are you hiding your girlfriend from us?”

So many things wrong with that question. Shouto raises his eyebrows in surprise, “She’s not my girlfriend, and I’m not hiding her. She’s dead.”

The grimace fell like a hot potato, it would’ve been fun watching how Katsuki splutters if he didn’t look like he’s legit choking. “Holy fuck, that's... fuck, then why the shit you’re so stoic talking about it,” Katsuki seems appalled.

“It happens a long time ago. She seems accepting of her death that I... well I want to respect her decision.” Shouto knows it’s weird to not feel mournful of the departure of your closest friend. He still misses her, but she had been so positive until the very moment she left. Shouto was sure that she’s happy, so Shouto wants to be happy for her.

Katsuki paled, horrified, seemingly to misunderstand again.

“She had a terminal illness. Very likely no chance of survival. She chose to live her remaining time normally instead of undergoing treatment.”

“There’s... There’s no way her parents let her do that.”

“They’re economically challenged. They tried though, just too late in the end.”

“Fuck...” Katsuki cursed, running through his hair roughly. “Never thought you’d be the type of person to have life-changing moments like that.”

“A lot of people have proven to me that everyone has potential to be unexpected, and that’s just how it is.” Shouto looks pointedly at Katsuki, who glares at him in retaliation. “There’s a reason why we’re both here instead of home.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki mumbles, clearly not wanting to talk.

Shouto doesn’t too, to be honest, and yet keeping it in feels more exhausting, “My mom’s home.”

“No shit?” Katsuki was mildly surprised, “So it’s really happening huh.”

“It’s like walking on eggshells with her. I wanted to ask, but last time I did she flinched at me. I couldn’t look at her today.”

Katsuki sighs. This time, Katsuki is the one that scoots over till their shoulders touched all the way to their thighs. The contact makes Shouto breathes easier, he’s drawn to it like moths to a flame. His body goes limp as if it’s been too tense too long from holding itself together, and he drapes himself on top of Katsuki. Shoulder pressed together, his head heavily falls on Katsuki’s shoulder. Instinctually, his hand looks for another hand. Katsuki snakes around his hand and clasps it with his. It’s uncharacteristic, but Shouto finds himself grateful for it.

It’s warm, it’s damp, it’s grounding. Like lying on even earth after running away for so long.

“I don’t want her to be with him under the obligation that parents are supposed to be together for the kids. She’s been through so much, I would’ve understood, but I didn’t know how to say it without triggering her.” Silence follows, and Shouto realized what he said. “Sorry, uh, I’m not insinuating-”

“Shut up candy cane, I know.” Katsuki leans closer, his head on top of Shouto’s.

It’s warm, just what he needs in the middle of an emotional crisis at the beginning of November. It’s a bit out of character for Katsuki to do this, nor Shouto, neither of them are known for physical contact or talking about their personal lives. Yet here they are.

And Katsuki speaks anyway, “They’re fighting.”

Shouto, contrary to what Katsuki called him, isn’t a himbo. He knows who they are and he knows what a fight could entail.

“Did they hurt each other when they fight?” Shouto asks, then mused even if they did, could Katsuki do anything about it? Shouto couldn’t back then.

“No!” Katsuki says, indignant, “Of course not, they’re just bitching at each other about... about... I don’t know, it’s fucking stupid.”

“Hm, that’s good.”

“Fucking hell it’s good, they’re being idiotic!”

“They’re not hurting each other.”

Katsuki paused, his hands clenched tighter, “Did he hurt your mom when they fight?”

Shouto takes a deep inhale at the surge of memory. The fear that settles is old, he knows. Just leftover trauma that never went away, still, it bubbled to the surface, makes his skin cold.

Not trusting his voice, Shouto nods.

“They were fighting about me,” Katsuki says after a while, his voice a bit shaky, and Shouto knows better than to point it out. He keeps his head on the shaking shoulder and listens. “They didn’t know I was listening, they never did. They never... Turn-Turns out they didn’t even plan on having me.”

Katsuki holds his hand tighter and trembling.

“I’m a fucking accident,” Katsuki spat, venom dripping in every word. “Then they had a shotgun wedding, they didn’t even love each other at all.”

Shouto hears one escape of a sniff and lets himself relax, feigning clueless that Katsuki must’ve been crying. He lets the silence stretches until the hand holding his relaxed and the shaking subsides. Shouto had the same breakdown before. It downs to him that they’re not so different after all, children of a loveless relationship. Though he wonders if that instantly means he’s unloved. It had felt that way, but now... now it feels so much complicated than yes or no.

“Does it matter why we’re born?” Shouto hears a deep inhale of an incoming rant but he cuts it off with, “We’re our own person, with our own lives, and our own dreams. No one can tell us otherwise. Not even the one who makes us.” Shouto pauses and listens, what came to his ears is soft breathing, so he continues. “So what you’re not planned? That doesn’t mean you’re unwanted,” Shouto rubs his thumb over the damp knuckles, “You’re not unloved.”

Because Shouto had been to the Bakugo residence. Bakugou Mitsuki is as explosive as he is, but he can see her adoring stare at her son even when she’s scolding him. Bakugou Masaru is softer, always trying to calm both of them and giving small smiles when Shouto tells him stories about his son at school.

“What the fuck do you know, water dispenser?” Katsuki lowly growls, but it doesn’t have that biting hate, he doesn’t move away from Shouto.

So Shouto only hums and lets the silence stretch. He grabs the ashtray with his other hand, rubbing the plain surface with his thumb, remembering her, thanking her.

“What’s her name?” Katsuki says after minutes of silence, his voice with less snarl.

“Arisu.”

“... I’m sorry you lost her.”

And that’s what happened, isn’t it? Shouto may be able to let her go, but she’s still lost to him. Still hurts, Shouto still mises her. “Thank you.”

They didn’t let go of each other until Shouto’s phone rings. It’s Natsuo. His brother is just as unhappy about their parents' reunion, though for him it’s more about hating their dad and less about questioning their mother as Shouto did. Natsuo called to offer to spend the rest of the weekend at his place. Shouto immediately agrees, then he remembers Katsuki.

“Is it okay if I bring one of my friends?”

Katsuki instantly glowers at him.

“Who?”

“Katsuki.”

“Who??”

“Bakugou.”

“Oh, yeah sure. Buy some dinner on the way, I didn’t get to eat much.”

“Okay, me too.”

As soon as they hang up, Katsuki bares his teeth.

“Who says I’ll go with you, Pokeball?” His voice raised a bit, his arms crossing defensively.

“I’m not, I said if. You don’t have to, but if you want, you can.”

“No one fucking asked you for shelter,” Katsuki scoffs, facing away.

“I know...” Shouto knows Katsuki would rather leave than accept help. The only way he accepts it is that if no one acknowledges it. He knows Katsuki can take care of himself, but Shouto is the one that doesn’t want him to leave just yet. Shouto knows he’ll go back to Natsuo’s place only to hear him bitch about Endeavor when the real problem is with their mom and her odd decision.

“Can’t you just stay for dinner?” The desperation in his voice is real, Katsuki seems to notice it and is bewildered by it. “Please?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen at the magic word because no, Shouto doesn’t say it often, much less towards Katsuki, he had enough ego already.

Nose flared and fist clenched, Katsuki finally barks, “Fine! But we’re cooking instead of ordering take-out, I fucking know what you’re gonna get you soba simp. Your brother better has a kitchen.”

“He does,” Shouto replies, the upbeat tone in his voice is rare. Can you blame him? He’s excited that he’s not coming home, and Katsuki goes with him with his admittedly superior cooking.

At Natsuo’s apartment, Shouto helped Katsuki cook, nothing more than chopping stuff. Natsuo gave him a brief summary of what happened at home after Shouto left, but thankfully, he’s not saying too much because Katsuki is there. Once Natsuo finished talking and left to get beers, Shouto gives Katsuki an arm squeeze of thanks. Katsuki only grunts.

Dinner is ‘simple’ in Katsuki’s opinion. Stir-fried vegetables, miso soup, and hamburg steak. As always, it’s delicious, and Natsuo who’s none the wiser to Katsuki’s God-like cooking skill is blown away.

They’re in the living area on the sofa watching TV when Shouto scoots closer again. Natsuo is in his room studying.

“You can stay here for the rest of the weekend if you want,” Shouto says, bumping shoulders.

Katsuki frowns, eyes on the screen. “I don’t have my change of clothes with me.”

“You can borrow mine, I have some here.”

“Ran away a lot don’t you?” Katsuki sneers.

“You have no idea,” Shouto admits.

The sneer falls, “Why?”

“Just because I finally can.”

“You couldn’t before?”

Shouto shakes his head, finding his head heavy, so he lays his head on Katsuki’s shoulder again. “Before he was number one, he insists on using all my free time on training. If I didn’t, he’d take my phone, or the internet, or my manga, even burned them on some occasion. He even flushed my pet fish, rest in peace Kiya. Then he’s number one, and the dorms are established... so...”

Shout shrugs. He doesn’t reach for Katsuki’s hand this time, just pressed against him, afraid if he pushed then Katsuki would retract. Shouto doesn’t want to stop his newfound comfort just yet.

Then his hand is grasped by a firm clammy hand. Shouto keeps thinking of how Katsuki’s sweaty hands must be because of the nitroglycerin of his quirk. If he’s not thinking about Katsuki’s quirk then he’d think about how it makes his heart skipped a beat that Katsuki initiates the touch again. So yeah, clammy hands that hold him tight.

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” Katsuki says, weaker than he’s accustomed to. It makes Shouto wary.

“I don’t know what is there to tell.”

A groan stretches, “What do I do with you?”

“Hey...” Shouto mock complains “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Does he still train you like that?”

Shouto feels a bit of whiplash with all these questions. Katsuki has been asking personal questions left and right, and Shouto doesn’t understand why answering it doesn’t feel as hard as usual.

“No, not since he became number 1.”

Katsuki scoffs, “Got what he wanted didn’t he?”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the case. When he got it, he didn’t seem happy, just angry. Then he started wanting the family he broke to get that number one spot.”

That renders Katsuki to another bout of silence. He knows Katsuki strives to be number one too, and at first, Shouto had ridiculed him about it. Why does a superficial title mean so much anyway? Katsuki changed over the years though, with Midoriya being the main cause of it.

Heart on his throat, Shouto dare asks, “Hey, Katsuki? Why do you want to be a hero?”

Katsuki tensed, but Shouto holds him tighter, “Why are you getting nosy all of the sudden?”

Shouto knows he’s not getting things easy, “I just wanna know.”

“Yeah, that’s nosy.”

“No, I just want to get to know you.” Shouto bites his lips as soon as the words left, was that too forward?

They’re not looking at each other, but Shouto can feel the glare directed at him. “Why?”

“We’ve been friends for a while...”

“We’re not fucking friends-!”

“...But I feel like I’m taking you for granted. I didn’t even know you’re going through something so big.” Some friend I am, Shouto broods.

It takes a few seconds, but Katsuki defeatedly sighs, and Shouto smiles in victory, “At first, I just want to be the best.”

“Best at what?”

“Everything...” Katsuki muses, his head knocked back, “Then I realized that it was an impossible goal... Did a lot of thinking, did a lot of uh, self-reflecting. Started talking to Ito-san too. I realized that I just want to be needed.”

It makes sense why Katsuki is here then. Shouto wished he could outright say that he needs him so Katsuki would stay longer, but just imagining him doing so already makes him pink in embarrassment.

Ito-san is the school counselor, her doors are open for every UA student. Shouto had half the mind to go to her, but there’s always this weight of silence from being a son of a high-profile hero. Endeavor always drilled him about secrecy and how he shouldn’t say anything about his family to anyone or it’ll ruin everything. It’s the reason why Arisu was his only friend, she was dying, and she did take his secret to her grave. Shouto still feels guilty about that.

“Have you ever talked to Ito-san?” Katsuki asked as if reading his mind.

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Everything that comes out of my mouth is tabloid-worthy. Endeavor had drilled me from way young that I can’t run my mouth about our lives. He’s right about that at least, I didn’t want paparazzi swarming us demanding half-assed rumors if I can help it. It had happened before, someone even sneaked into my mom’s hospital to reach her. I guess... that’s also why I never told anyone at all about anything.”

“You told Arisu didn’t you?”

Shouto bites his lip, guilt gnaws at him, “Because I know she won't carry my secrets long enough.” Please don’t hate me. Shouto’s grip on Katsuki tighten.

“But you told Deku, you told me.”

“Well, I trust you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing. “You sure you don’t want to stay over?”

Katsuki leans away, and the cold strikes immediately. Shouto leans back, pointedly not looking at red irises.

“Fine.”

Shouto quickly looks up, then he finds Katsuki’s face odd. There’s something familiar with it. He’s... smiling, only slightly, but it’s a smile, and his eyes aren’t furrowed or angry or glaring. His eyebrows relaxed and he looks.... soft. Maybe Shouto fell asleep and currently dreaming.

“I’ll need to call my parents first,” Katsuki says after clearing his throat, looking away a bit flushed.

“Sure, I’ll get you settled.”

Shouto is half excited half worried. He told Natsuo that Katsuki will be borrowing the couch, which only replied with a hum while his eyes doesn’t leave the book. His brother is not unfamiliar with runaways. Shouto isn’t the only one seeking shelter at his place.

Shouto passes the balcony where Katsuki is screaming at his phone. Shouto can only hear muffles, but he gives Katsuki some privacy and gets some spare clothes. When Shouto sees that Katsuki is still on the phone even after ten minutes have passed, he takes the liberty of taking a shower first.

When Shouto walks out, he finds Katsuki sitting by the sofa, his hands suspiciously inflamed. He faces the screen but looking particularly nowhere. Shouto had seen those empty looks before.

“Katsuki?”

He jerks slightly as his name is called. Katsuki schooled his expression to a careful stoic, walls up. No matter, Shouto thinks, sometimes you don’t need to tear down walls to help a person, just hold their hand through the gate.

“Go take a shower, bath’s warm.”

Katsuki nods, taking the towel Shouto offered and the spare clothes. Shouto makes tea, for him, his brother, and Katsuki. Shouto delivers the cup of tea to Natsuo’s room, seems like the books are multiplying around his brother.

“Tea,” Shouto says before putting it on a coaster.

“Thanks.” Natsuo finally looks away from the book and takes a sip. “That Bakugou, how is he?” Natsuo asks, knowing that Shouto only brings his friend here in a dire situation.

The only other person he brought was Kaminari, believe it or not. Kaminari had said he didn’t want to come home for the weekend because he was scared of facing his parents after he came out via text. From the replies, it hadn’t been good. Kaminari spent the rest of the stay switching between sobbing and full-on crying. Only God knows why Kaminari asked him instead of any of the Baku-squad, but Kaminari is still his friend too, so Shouto provides.

But today with Katsuki is different though. Shouto had to beg him to stay, whether it’s for the benefit of him or Shouto the line had blurred.

“Hopefully he will be,” Is all Shouto can offer. Natsuo nods before going back to his book.

Shouto lays out his futon in the living room adjacent to the sofa. He’s laying down, scrolling at his phone. Putting his dad on read and ignoring Fuyumi’s and mom’s chatbox. He opted to look at cat videos instead. Soon, Katsuki came out of the bathroom, drank the offered tea, and laid down on the sofa.

They spent probably an hour separately looking at their phones when Shouto finally calls it a night. He turned off the lights, and tuck himself in. Before he said goodnight, Shouto thinks and his desires take.

“Wanna hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

Blood red eyes look at him from the screen, “Where?”

Shouto shrugs, “I don’t know, just around, get my mind off things. There’s a cat cafe I’ve been wanting to see, then we’ll go from there.”

Katsuki stares, seemingly thinking it over, “Have you ever been to a rock climbing gym?”

“A what?”

Katsuki smirks, sharp-teethed and evil, “Oh you’re in for a fucking experience, red velvet oreo.”

Shouto is a bit suspicious, even so, he finds himself looking forward to tomorrow.

+++++

I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but you shouldn’t think that way. Of course you’ll have more friends. You’re more lovable than you think, Shouto.

Something changed between them after that weekend. Comfort grows between them. Comfort that they don’t want to let go just yet, perhaps not anytime soon.

The bad thing about it is that everyone notices. Everyone.

To their friend's credit though, they came to school together, walking very close to each other. It was fully initiated by Shouto, but Katsuki didn’t snap or push him away, so he assumed everything is okay.

Everything is absolutely not okay because the moment he walks to class everyone has eyes on them. Shouto thought it won’t matter to him, but Katsuki tends to be defensive. When Katsuki is defensive, he pushes people away. Shouto tried not to watch Katsuki for the whole class.

Momo noticed, of course, but she notices more than superficial things.

“Shouto,” Momo whispers, “Everything alright?”

Shouto gives her a smile and nods.

It’s not until they’re getting up for lunch that Shouto is tested in a form of Kirishima.

“Bakubro! How long have you been dating Todobro?”

The world screech halt, and Kirishima tensed at the sudden chill he’s feeling. When Kirishima found the source of burning in his back, he sees Shouto, glaring hard and terrifyingly at him. Face darkens, pupils small, ready to kill.

Kirishima squeaks, “He-hey, uh-”

“Back off Kiri, it’s none of your business,” is all Katsuki says. Not even a scream, just a conversational tone as if he’s bored. No defensiveness, no snarling at Shouto in retaliation. “The fuck are yall extras staring at? Move outta my way, I’m hungry!” Then he left.

No one is barging Shouto with questions instead. It’s out of character of his classmates to not poke their nose in something juicy, but as he drops his butt at his chair, he finds himself alone in class.

Shouto is left in class with a big wave of relief, so much that he couldn’t stand. Why is it that the thought of Katsuki pushing him away scares him this much?

A hand landed on his desk, he looks up to find Momo’s honest stare, “Something is not alright.”

Shouto sighs, “No.”

Unlike Katsuki, Momo never pries, only assuring that she’s there for him. Unlike Momo, Katsuki understands that some things can’t be fixed, wherein if he opens up to Momo and some others, they tried to help by fixing. The number of times his friends told him, again and again, to go to Ito-san when they found out about Dabi being his brother is an exhausting amount. Maybe that’s why Shouto has been more comfortable with laying his problems to Katsuki.

So he eats lunch with Momo in the silence of comfortable company, and there’s just that.

+++++

Thank you for being there for me. You’re the bestest best friend I could ever wish for. And you won’t be lonely for long, you’ll see.

Shouto has peaceful days following that first Monday. His comfort with Katsuki doesn’t change. Though they don't get together on the rooftop anymore (Iida never let go of his key since Katsuki managed to steal it), they still gravitate towards each other whenever they don’t feel particularly great.

Katsuki would approach and say things like, “They want me home this weekend.”

“You wanna stay at the dorms or my place?”

“Can’t. I know they wanted to talk to me about who I wanna stay with.”

“We can make up an excuse if you want.”

“Hm.”

Then they spent the rest of the day together, just sitting at the school’s lawn, looking at particularly nothing. And if they sit too close together and their clasped hands only partially hidden by their legs, no one pointed it out.

Shouto would approach and say things like, “Fuyumi wants to call me, I know she’s just gonna talk about how I’m tearing the family apart.”

Katsuki snaps from his bed towards the window where Shouto is stepping down from his Elsa stairs.

Katsuki’s shock then turns to fury, “Your sister, Fuyumi, THAT Fuyumi said that to you?”

“She wanted the family together. I think she’s frustrated that I keep making my parents' union difficult.”

“You know what, her spicy mapo tofu isn’t that delicious anyway!” Katsuki barks his hands clenched down mini-explosions. It’s one of Katsuki’s outbursts that Shouto doesn’t understand, nor does he understand why her mapo tofu is related in any way, so he doesn’t comment.

“I’m gonna head up to the roof, wanna come?”

“No, you’ll just smoke and you’d give me fucking cancer.”

Shouto feels cold, Katsuki had never said no from hanging out before, “Fine.”

“Who said you can leave? Come here!” Katsuki held his ankle from the balcony, gripping tight.

Shouto blinks, remembering what Aizawa-sensei had said some days ago. “Oh, are we gonna cuddle?”

Katsuki’s face set aflame, “Just fucking come in here Katy Perry, before I yank you by your stupid Poland flag hair.”

Shouto finds himself obeying at the thought of cuddling, but then confused, “Why Katy Perry?”

“Hot and cold.”

“I guess that’ll make sense if I know who Katy Perry is but.”

Katsuki spat a curse, “Alright, time for a session of pop culture.”

“But I already had them with Mina and Sero”

“And they’re doing a shit job about it if you didn’t know the person that shapes a whole ass generation.”

It started with a music video of Hot and Cold by Katy Perry and ends with a retelling biography of Lady Gaga. Who knew Katsuki is so knowledgeable about female pop stars.

“TELL ANYONE AND DIE,” He said after Shouto pointed it out.

Most important of all, they did cuddle. They were sitting on the bedside then suddenly they’re laying down side by side. They’re watching a gameplay video of a Swedish man playing a horror game, another important role in pop culture as Katsuki said. It’s an old video, and Katsuki said that the man owns some part of Antarctica, which Shouto knows it’s some kind of an inside joke.

The nights getting late, and Shouto is reminded of the text on his phone, how it vibrates occasionally. Shouto has been in Katsuki’s room for four hours, but he doesn’t want to go back to his room.

Katsuki notices him lingering, “You wanna stay here for the night?”

Shouto looks up from Katsuki’s phone with big sparkling eyes, “You sure?”

“Tch, I wouldn’t have offered if I don’t.” Katsuki looks away, exposing his neck that seems red to the tip of his ears, “It’ll be a little cramp though with my single bed.”

“I don’t mind it. Just don’t kick me out of bed.”

“No promises.”

Katsuki didn’t. He curled away from Shouto as soon as the blankets tucked. Their backs pressed against each other because of the small space. Shouto finds it hard to fall asleep, could be the new environment or the gnawing anxiety.

He’ll admit that Fuyumi is his favorite sibling. She’s there for him when he was condemned in that lonely manor only to train and study. Fuyumi stays back for him, tend to his wounds, cook for him, keep him company. Natsuo had left and rarely come back, even though he’s there for Shouto in the end.

Then his dad had a bootleg redemption arc and Fuyumi dropped him like hot potato and shoved both of them together despite what Shouto feels about his dad. When his parents are getting back together, Fuyumi stopped consoling Shouto and started to support them blindly. So desperate to have their family together. Doesn’t she know that there’s nothing to salvage? Doesn’t she remember what he did?

“I can hear you from here, air conditioner,” Katsuki grumbles, his back vibrates, “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

Shouto can’t stop thinking, can’t stop getting angry and getting hurt. It hurts when his sister is pointing the blame at Shouto, it hurts even more when it’s kind of true. It hurts that despite his fear of facing her, he still owes her a call at least. He’ll never be ready for what she’s about to say, never be ready to be hurt by her. Shouto turns around and buries his face at Katsuki’s back, ducking under the cover.

“What is it?’ Katsuki asks, not demanding, but Shouto’s floodgates are opened.

“I don’t understand how they could forgive him. He hurts mom, he hurts Touya to a point that he left and hates us, and he... he hurts me. It’s just training but-but- fine, okay, it hurt and I was scared most of the time that he’s not gonna pull his punches. Fuyumi forgives him so easily, and mom just went back in there even though they were never in love in the first place. It’s like they’ve forgotten what he had done, how deeply he scars all of us. Like what- like what happened didn’t matter.” Shouto’s voice breaks the whole time, a sob escaped in between the jumbled words and he’s trying so hard, so hard not to cry.

Katsuki turns around, his arms wrapped around Shouto’s hunched shoulders. A burnt sweet scent hits his nostrils, his face pressed against a defined neck and collarbones. All tenseness bleeds away when Katsuki starts rubbing his back, and tears break from his eyes without his will. Shouto wraps his arms around his friend’s torso, feeling his chest constrict when Katsuki mercifully says nothing about the silent tears landing on his chest.

He shuts his lips, pressing tightly because he’s not sobbing to Katsuki’s chest. They’re comfortable with each other but not that comfortable... right? Shouto’s tolerance to breakdown cries is thanks to exposure to crying most of his childhood, the same can’t be said for Katsuki. The hug is enough, it’s everything. Shouto never realized how much he craved being touched until that day Katsuki sits way too close to him.

His lips pressed tight keeping from sobbing, but his hands tremble on Katsuki’s back instead.

“Damn, you’re touch starved aren’t you,” Katsuki sighs to his hair, his face buried there.

“I didn’t know,” Shouto’s voice shaking pathetically, breaking at the edge and Shouto is too torn to care about it.

“Me too.”

Shouto doesn’t know which one Katsuki meant, but neither let go until they sleep.

++++++

I love you too, Shouto. Don’t be scared of letting people in, okay? Not all of them are gonna leave you, I promise.

Things get rough, but their comfort pushes each other through.

Katsuki chooses to stay with his dad, but he’s co-parenting with his mom. Katsuki spends his weekends at both their house, switching every weekend. There’s still tenseness between his parents, and Katsuki explodes whenever his dad or mom asks Katsuki about the other. ‘Stop fucking asking me! If you wanna know so much then you shouldn’t have gotten the divorce!’ Katsuki doesn’t want to hear their reasoning, feeling better to just accept the change and move on, but Shouto thinks he’s just not ready to hear it. Sometimes Katsuki stays at the dorms with Shouto or the Todoroki estate when he gets overwhelmed.

Shouto finally talks to his mom. At first, it didn’t go anywhere. She’s as unsure as Shouto, but her willingness to try and salvage the marriage is as honest as it comes, even though her feelings might not be there yet. It feels like hearing Fuyumi talk, hearing the same desperation and blindness in putting things together. It’s hard to understand her foolishness, but Shouto tried to trust her. Shouto’s opinion might have been persuaded a little when his father announced that they’ll be moving houses due to mom’s tense reaction to the place. It’s a plus that his dad is willing to do that for his wife, but Shouto is still keeping an eye on them.

Then things get better, but their comfort doesn’t stop. Shouto is comfortable in following his desires without questioning them, but he quizically finds that Katsuki seeks him too even though he no longer approach Shouto with that near tears scowl, and situation bomb.

“How’s your mom?” Katsuki asked out of the blue under the summer blue sky. They’re sitting by the school lawn, their backs to a tree trunk, their friends strangely been leaving them alone.

“She’s fine.”

“Then why did you want to meet here?” Katsuki murmurs, looking down at the comic book Shouto lends him but not reading it. The tips of his ears are red.

Oh, Katsuki is testing the waters, “I just want to be with you.”

Katsuki flushes, “Ew, where the fuck did you even get that cheesy line.”

Shouto pays the snark no mind. “We haven't had any excuses for being together lately, do we?”

Katsuki hums.

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Say... If I ask you to go to a cat cafe this Saturday, will you go?”

“Satan in hell, cat cafe again? I still have fucking fur on my black jacket from the previous visit! I felt like we’ve been to all the cat cafes in the country!”

Shouto pouts, “That’s not possible.”

“Let’s go hiking instead.”

“Okay.”

Katsuki twist his head towards him, “You would?”

“Just us two right?”

“Obviously, there’s no way I’m taking those extras. Those nature documentaries made them wimps.”

Shouto only listened to the first word he uttered, “I’ll go with you.”

Then Katsuki looks him that way again. Soft eyes, relaxed eyebrows, fond stares, and the most devastating of all, a small genuine smile.

“Cool. Come to my place, we have to wake up early. I miss seeing the sunset there, it’s awesome.” There’s light in his maroon eyes, excited to go, and he’s taking Shouto with him to his hobby, his precious place.

Shouto feels warmth radiating from his chest all the way down to his toes, a smile blooms on his face. He’s been feeling this mysterious warmth pretty often lately, only now has he realized that Shouto is happy and that he hasn’t been lonely despite his current family strain.

Katsuki’s rambling about his favorite hiking spot is cut short when Shouto leans in to kiss the corner of his lips. The smile is exchanged with shocked parted lips. Shouto feels himself shrink by the silence of Katsuki’s loud mouth and the pinning stare of his sharp eyes. Blood rushed to Shouto’s cheeks, knowing that he’s blushing up a storm, suddenly nervous.

“Is that okay?” Shout asks, too cowardly to say that he wants more, closer, to continue being together for no reason at all other than just because.

“No.”

He’s grabbed by the face, and a pair of lips pressed against his. Shouto expected to be bitten, his head clawed, and his lips bruised. But the weeks he spent with Katsuki should’ve made him know better. Because the gentle hands cradling his face, the complete capture of his lips, and the soft nips are all unsurprising. Shouto melts away, leaning his whole weight so they’re chest to chest. He grabs Katsuki by the hips, pulling closer, kissing back.

Katsuki hums, and the vibration echoes on Shouto’s body deliciously. Katsuki’s lips taste sweet and hot as it moves to nibble Shouto’s bottom lip. The hands cupping his face moves past his neck. One is clutching his back and the other plays with the hair at the back of his head. Fingers card gently around his nape and Shouto has a whole body shiver.

Then the lips go missing, and Shouto goes limp in Katsuki’s arms, gasping for breath on his chest.

“And that’s how you kiss, Strawberry Shortcake,” Katsuki says smugly, patting Shouto’s back condescendingly.

Shouto scoffs and leans back. Katsuki still has that fond eyes as he looks at him, but now paired with a cheeky smirk. Shouto wants to kiss that too, and Shouto does.

From then on, it’s expected that he sometimes steps down his icy stairs just to cuddle with Katsuki, and it’s perfectly acceptable that Katsuki barges into his room and starts pulling his hand towards wherever he wants.

They’d still bicker sometimes, and sometimes Shouto unintentionally steps on some lines that set Katsuki to explode. Sometimes Katsuki is frustrated with him. Those days they fight makes him nervous.

But they always say their apologies eventually. Katsuki always comes back and tries again with him. Even when the fights are between them, they eventually get over it and get better while they’re still leaning onto each other for comfort.

Eventually, Shouto keeps the coffin ashtray in his keepsake instead of his pocket.

He’d like to think that he can finally let her go now that she’s proven right.

Shouto finds someone that loves him, someone that makes him happy, and someone that doesn’t leave.

++++

nicknames that didn't make it: Colgate toothpaste, hot pocket, tide pod, dry ice. nicknames that I magically forgot: Half and half.

Tag yourself as Shouto’s nickname, I’m water dispenser.

#todobaku #bakutodo #todoroki shouto #todoroki shōto #bakugo katsuki #todobaku fic #todobaku fanfic #Todobaku fanfiction #emocel's #I'm crying #i googled shouto's nickname for this #I saw 'Strawberry Shorcake' and I lose my mind #I saw a trope that Bakugo smells like caramel becs of his quirk and i lose my mind #todoroki shoto fluff #boku no hero #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction

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nxtheromoved · 3 years ago

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PSA: NEW MUSES

Important things to know about the new muses added recently since I don’t have any bios / etc done yet and likely won’t for a while. Please read this, it’s very important. At least read the sections involving the muses you’re interested in, if any.

Selina Kyle

I am not very familiar with events in DC comics at all. My portrayal is mostly based off of Michelle Pfeiffer and TellTale’s separate portrayals of Selina, with influences from Batman: The Animated Series. I am willing to write in a comics verse and with comic characters, just please be aware that if you reference events from DC canon in a thread, I probably will have no idea what you’re talking about. I plan on looking into recent Catwoman runs in the near future but I do not plan on going in-depth through her entire comic history (or DC’s as a whole) any time soon. Note on the upcoming film: I’m not sure where I stand on Zoe Kravitz’s Selina as of yet because obviously the film isn’t out yet. I love her vibe as Selina, though, so I may or may not incorporate things from the upcoming film into my own portrayal after its release.

Shipping: Open. Bisexual/Greyromantic. Please note that Selina is somewhat hard to ship with because she is non-committal by default and is not the type to ever “settle down”. She is *not* against being in a committed, exclusive relationship, so long as you let her maintain her independence.

Will have alt verses for: Marvel, The Last of Us.

Katniss Everdeen

Wholly book-based, though I haven’t read the books in a decade so my memory can be spotty when it comes to specific details. I plan on re-reading soon.

Shipping: Maybe. Katniss is a teenager so same rules as with Natsu; only muses in her age range and things have to stay PG. I’m not aging her up, and if you ask me to because you think it’ll get me to write smut with you, you’re getting blocked. Also, she’s not with Peeta by default. I have mixed feelings on their relationship in canon but I’m not against the ship.

Will have alt verses for: Marvel, The Last of Us, Squid Game

Maria

I follow canon pretty closely, but I’m okay with flexing things. Maria still exists in Silent Hill after SH2, so anyone can encounter her.

If writing in a thread set after SH2, I typically assume that the In Water or Leave endings occurred. If it was In Water, then Maria is currently caring for Laura. If it was the Leave ending, the Maria is alone.

Shipping: Open. Pansexual/Panromantic.

Will have alt verses for: The Last of Us, Devil May Cry

Ashe

Admittedly, I haven’t touched Overwatch or the fandom since 2016, so I have a lot of catching up to do. Don’t expect me to be a lore expert.

Shipping: Open. Bisexual/Biromantic. Slight masc preference.

Will have alt verses for: The Last of Us, Devil May Cry

Mirabelle Motierre

Mirabelle survives when she is thought to be dead. She is taken by the Order and tortured for information on the Dark Brotherhood, which she does not surrender. She can either be rescued by the Dark Brotherhood after the Black Dragon’s defeat or taken in by Count Carolus as an informant on the Order of the Hour amidst his power struggle with them.

Shipping: Open. Pansexual/Panromantic.

Will have alt verses for: Dragon Age

Jill Valentine

I haven’t played any of the older RE games since I was a kid so similarly to Ashe and Katniss, don’t expect me to have perfect memory of the events or be a lore expert. I mostly write Jill after RE5, still dealing with the aftermath of Wesker’s experimentation. She’ll have verses for the newer RE games (RE7 & Village) too.

Shipping: Open. Bisexual/Biromantic. Masc preference. I do hc that she had feelings for Chris at one point, but by default she never said anything / acted on those feelings.

Will have alt verses for: Devil May Cry, The Last of Us, Mortal Kombat

Fenris

I will not write plots set when he was still a slave. I’m not interested in writing a master/slave dynamic with him at all, please don’t ask. I won’t write him opposite Denarius or Hadriana for this reason. I am also not interested in writing him in verses where the Champion surrendered him to Danarius, because honestly if Hawke was the kind of person willing to do that to someone, then Fenris would have either left or killed them (or died trying to kill them) a long time ago.

Look. If you played DA2, you know how Fenris is. No, I don’t agree with a lot of the shit he says in-game about mages. You muse is 100000% allowed to give him shit for his bad takes in character, but don’t try to take it out on me as a writer, and don’t try to use threads with me as a mouthpiece for your own fandom discourse because I’ve seen people do that before. I try to steer away from threads involving IC Mage/Templar politics and discussions in general for this reason because a lot of the time if feels like someone is always trying to prove the other person’s muse wrong and their own muse right, and I’m too old for this childish behavior tbh. I’m here to chill and rp, not debate points through the guise of characters, especially when I don’t even agree with my own character’s viewpoints lmfao

If referring to Hawke in a thread, he will be referencing my own Hawke by default.

Shipping: I’m not saying no completely, but I will be very private and selective with who I ship with, if at all. Bisexual/Demiromantic. Strong Fem preference.

Will have alt verses for: idk yet

Psylocke (Kwannon)

I do not write the Betsy version of Psylocke, only Kwannon, the current incarnation.

Currently catching up on the comics. Not that familiar with Krakoa so until I have caught up you can definitely assume threads are set either before her time on Krakoa or after she leaves.

Shipping: Open. Bisexual/Biromantic.

Will have alt verses for: Marvel, Devil May Cry, Mortal Kombat

#[psa]

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heyitsyn · 4 years ago

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Yellow

psa: okay i know yall are about to blast me on this even though i’ve put this warning up here, i know kuroo’s eyes are hazel or something like that. but i actually headcanon him to have somewhat yellow or even gold eyes so we’re sticking to that for now, okay? okay

kuroo x reader (tsukishima x reader in the end)

angst....

Look at the stars Look how they shine for you And everything you do Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along I wrote a song for you And all the things you do And it was called "Yellow"

all your life you thought he was the one.

growing up with kenma and kuroo, you naturally found your soulmate mark pretty early on. it was a normal Sunday afternoon when you noticed something seemed to be off the moment you laid your eyes on the rooster’s face.

‘hm’

that was the first sound of curiosity that caught the attention of the man himself. a grin made its way on his face as he realized how deeply you were staring at him.

‘oya? am i cute, baby chibi?’

at the mere age of 10, kuroo was already the ultimate teaser he is today. the shameless and sarcastic grin has been carved on his ridiculously adorable face and kuroo tetsuro was never one to miss an opportunity to tease. combined with an older sister, kuroo learned the ways to flirt to a lady despite his initial shyness towards people in general.

then you came.

with your signature f/s (favorite smell) scent, you were the only one he could smell as his own soulmate mark was the lack of scent.

but there was one problem.

it is said that usually when you meet your soulmate, you would regain what you lost.

however, how come it was only a small part that he got back?

shouldn’t he be able to smell his mother’s cooking or the grass outside?

maybe that’s how he found himself drawn to you.

the questions and questions ended in one single answer.

he met you through kenma.

as a neighbor of the pudding head, kuroo often came over to kenma’s house to play since he was the only friend the older boy had. then maybe around the fifth time he came over, he saw you there.

you were standing in your tippy-toes and kuroo watched you try to get a box of fruit snacks on top of the fridge but obviously, you were too short. the poor kid felt himself freeze up at the sight of another kid in the kitchen but then he remembered kenma telling him the other day that a relative was coming over.

you must be the relative.

and a very good smelling one too.

kuroo’s ears turned red when he remembered what his sister told him.

‘it will come one day, tetsu. they will come one day. you will know it immediately when you see them’

it was like an invisible trail only seen by him trailed to you and he imagined it to be yellow.

there was no particular meaning to it but he just knew it was yellow.

‘come on!’

you mumbled repeatedly.

as much as tetsu found the sight amusing, he felt slightly bad for you the moment the 5-minute mark hit. even though he was nervous to speak to you, he mustered up all his courage and walked over, only to startle you with his voice.

‘watch and learn, chibi’

he cringed a little after he said it but he pushed it to the side.

in amazement, you watched as this boy effortlessly heaved himself on the counter and stood up to easily grab the box of snacks. you cheered once his fingertips touched the box but apparently, your noise of happiness scared him and his sock-cladded foot missed the marble top and instead sunk to the air.

‘watch out!’

you shrieked and dove to try and catch him but you didn’t realize how pointless it was as you both still fell and got hurt anyways.

the position was something your young mind didn’t register as anything suggestive.

but his intense gaze made you blink and fluster even more when he laughed and you found yourself comparing him to the cutest boy in your kindergarten.

this boy might be the first one to be cuter than akaashi keiji himself.

‘thank you’

you whispered in appreciation and tetsu nodded, moving himself up before offering you a hand to stand too.

unfortunately for you, colors were never in your life.

i guess you could say that your world was filled with black and white with the occasional appearance of grey.

it never bothered you until twice in your lifetime.

you wanted to see akaashi keiji in full color and you also wanted to see this boy’s eyes.

it looked sharp and reminded you of something your cousin and your cat had in common.

eventually, that desire went away and you went back to living your colorless life.

however.

the moment your 9th birthday hit, you noticed something different.

you were over at kenma’s while your parents were doing something (probably a surprise party). tetsu was over too and by now, he was already accustomed to you and he liked you, even more, when you helped get the volleyball whenever it strayed away.

‘oh! chibi-chan!’

he greeted when he saw you lounging around on kenma’s bed, reading a princess book, while the bed’s owner was by your feet playing on his games.

‘oh! hello, ku-kun!’

you waved, not even looking up from the page, only for him to pull a sour face and whine.

‘aaaaaaa, call me something cute, chibi-chan! i want a nickname too! it’s not fair that kenma gets one and i don’t! and pay attention to me too!’

kuroo childishly complained and you opened your mouth to scold him for being annoying when your heart thrummed violently and your eyes found his.

they were very light.

you didn’t know what the color name was since you’ve been stuck with this problem the moment you were born.

but you were interested to learn just to know what color kuroo tetsuro’s eyes were.

right now, you had no name for it.

all you knew was that they were very pretty.

as you got older, his eyes were the only thing you could see that was outside the black and white and grey spectrum. not even the apple you ate or the school uniform could be identified by a single color.

but his-his were yellow.

the perfect shade of not being too light and not being too dark, they evened out to be something as beautiful as gold.

oddly enough, he was the only person you could see yellow in.

added to the fact that you were still cursed of not having the full color wheel, kuroo’s yellow eyes were the only colorful thing in your life and your cousin even dyed his hair the same color to see if you could identify it on another person.

but nope.

just kuroo.

and that’s what made him so special.

sometimes, you could even see it glow brighter.

you reckon it’s just the lighting but what you don’t know is those short glowing pulses of his eyes were actually the times he realized that he falls in love with you.

so for every time they glow, it was his soul’s indirect way of saying he loves you.

‘chibi?’

kuroo snapped you out of your staring and you found yourself back to the rooftop of your high school while kenma was sipping his juice and playing at the same time.

‘oh’

you mumbled.

kuroo smirked and he scooted closer to peck your cheek before leaning close to your face. even he was flustered at the strongest smell of f/s and it was his own personal drug with no sense of limitation.

the same for kuroo, your scent would get stronger and it would happen occasionally at the most random times.

like now.

but kuroo was a smarter boy and quickly connected the dots that with your strong scent and the clear scream of love in your eyes, your strong scent was your own indirect way that you love him.

and he swears to any higher being up there, that he would always love you more.

‘what were you thinking about, chibi-chan?’

he whispered and your eyes widened at the up-close view of his face and noticed they were glowing again.

you wonder why.

your line of sight moved and you couldn’t help the way your eyes traveled downwards to his lips.

‘oh? you want a kiss?’

he teased and you could feel your ear bursting with how flustered you’ve become but thankfully, kenma decided to save you.

‘oi, kuroo. don’t suck faces when i’m here’

he chided and kuroo sighed heavily then pouted.

‘fine. i guess i can wait. but you owe me double the kisses’

this idiot knew what he was doing to you.

that was your kuroo.

he was everything you wanted and everything you needed.

yet the moment you laid eyes on the tall middle blocker of karasuno, everything faded away.

being the manager of the volleyball team meant you were obligated to go to practice matches with them and as you walked over to the entrance of the gym, you felt the world stop.

there, karasuno stood and your eyes settled on the tall player with the glasses. his height made his noticed quickly but to you, you noticed him immediately with the reasons of suddenly being able to see other colors and because his own hair color was this familiar shade of grey that only meant you couldn’t see the true color.

by the corner of your eye, there was a bright sight.

the hair of some other karasuno player shone brightly and his short height didn’t even register in your head as volleyball material, rather him being the confirmation of what just happened.

‘tetsu’

you almost sobbed and kuroo knew something was wrong by the way your scent started fading.

‘chibi-y/n’

he frantically asked and you looked at him, now seeing the bright color of his jacket.

his eyes still shone in color but now, they all blended with the rest of the colors.

it was all mixed--muddled.

‘kuroo’

you whispered and tetsu knew he should appear professional so he grabbed your waist and pulled you close by his side to silently tell you it was going to be okay.

but by god, it wasn’t.

as the karasuno players introduced themselves, you finally put a name to the tall middle blocker.

‘my name is tsukishima kei’

his velvet voice traveled to your ear.

you swallowed a lump in your throat and you asked kenma what this tsukishima guy’s hair color was.

‘yellow’ was all he said.

it was like thunder boomed in the distance.

it all made sense.

‘hey, y/n?’

kuroo quietly mumbled. you tore your eyes away from the sky and looked at the boy laying beside you with your arms around him to warm you both from the cold summer night at his apartment rooftop.

‘hm?’

‘how come,,,, why can i only smell you?’

your eyes stared at his face but his own refused to look at you.

‘why can i only see your eyes? its the same concept. and honestly, im too scared to find out’

you admitted and that was when tetsu finally looked at you and you might not be able to see anything else but his glowing yellow eyes made up for it.

‘i am too’

you smiled softly before leaning up to kiss his lips.

‘then we don’t have to find out’

you’ve heard from tetsu’s sister before about the taboo tales of twin flames and the differences between soulmates and twin flames.

your mind knew this would happen but your heart refused to accept it.

kuroo tetsuro was the boy you stayed up thinking about and dreaming of the simple wedding and the house with children’s laughter filling up the silence of the street.

but then that grinning and handsome face of your tetsuro became replaced by the face of this person--this stranger.

and there was nothing you could do about it.

tsukishima kei may have given you the colors of the world.

but only kuroo gave you yellow.

okayokayokay i know this kinda sounds confusing so imma write out this quick explanation, okay?

so basically, this is a story about soulmates duh but also partially twin flames. so when you turned 9, you saw kuroo and you thought he was your soulmate immediately because he was the only person who you could see colors to. oddly, it was yellow (i know its supposed to be hazel but please bear with me!!) and so therefore yellow became kuroo’s special thing to you. and i also talked about how their soulmate marks were only partial like kuroo could only smell you and nothing else and you could only see his eyes and its color and nothing else. this goes along with the idea that you can have multiple soulmates in your life but only have one twin flame! as sad as it sounds, he isn’t your twin flame. and when you guys were questioning about it, that was my way of kinda showing this knowledge that not everyone with the soulmate prompt probably thinks about when they make soulmate fics. your twin flame is your endgame or your partner for life. they are your person and your soulmate are just people that are special to you like theyre right under twin flame.

tsukishima kei is your twin flame, not kuroo. kuroo is one of your soulmates that you’ll meet in your lifetime and he was your color of yellow. and i kinda mentioned that despite seeing all the colors in tsukki, you couldnt see his hair color and it’s grey, meaning its a light color but you can’t actually see it bc your soulmate curse blocks it. thats why you ask kenma his hair color and its yellow so you kinda make this connection like ‘how come i still see tetsu’s eye color which is yellow but not tsukishima? or even kenma’s hair?’. bc that color belongs to kuroo. it indicates and reminds you that he’s still one of your soulmates and essentially helped you grow and connected with you deeply. you mistook that connection for romantic love when it was only meant to be platonic love. i mentioned somewhere up there that the topic of twin flames is taboo so its not really known by like everyone so that would maybe explain you and kuroo’s ignorance about it. the same goes for kuroo. say your scent is lavender. he can’t walk into a store and smell a candle of lavender bc its not from you, ya feel? i dont know i suck at explanations but i hope i cleared the air with this one!!

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simpcxty · 4 years ago

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I Grew Up (Minoru Mineta x Reader)

Warning ⚠️ Mineta is attractive in this one, and sorta likable. Just not in the beginning.

Also I have it in my head that he’d find any excuse to call you a fruit for a pet name. If you don’t like it then you can ignore it but I kinda like what I chose bc it was hard brainstorming what Mineta would call his significant other for me. So without further ado, you can enjoy this Mineta x Reader without anyone saying shit :)

And yes. I am doing this, and enjoying writing it. Bite me.

(PSA, i tried to find the artist and I’m pretty sure it’s diaboliiique on DeviantArt. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I literally found the art off of google 😔)

All Characters are ages up 18+

It was hard being the girlfriend of Minoru Mineta.

Let’s just get that out of the way now.

The way he can’t even keep to keep his mouth shut about other girls bodies even when you’re around him is sickening sometimes.

At least it used to be.

Could you even really call yourself his girlfriend anymore? You just sat nearby while other girls ogled at the now attractive version of your boyfriend.

Why couldn’t he have stayed the way he was? At least no one wanted him then.

You swore to yourself that you didn’t care. You knew the relationship wouldn’t last so there’s no reason to be upset or jealous.

At least you tried to tell yourself that.

That didn’t stop it from hurting any less.

What really pissed you off, or rather who, was Tsuyu Asui.

She acts like she never hated him now.

Like she didn’t at one point look down on him or look at him disgustedly once, and he.

He goes along with it.

You’re not gonna lie, you used to love Tsu, and you keep telling yourself you do.

Only so you can keep up the facade that how he acts doesn’t affect you.

“Hey Y/n.” You’re shocked when he moves to sit next to you, opting to sit on the bench that you had plopped down on when the group of girls saw your famous pro hero boyfriend with you, and away from the group of girls still eyeing him. Including Tsuyu.

Yes. He’s a pro hero. Now back up please.

“Yes Mineta?” His eyebrows furrowed at that and you almost cringed when his hand falls onto your thigh.

Visible to anyone passing by.

“No. You always call me Minoru. Minoru or Sugar. So stick to it. Heh, see what I did there?-“ He’s interrupted by Tsu and the words that come out of her mouth make you want to vomit.

“Minoru, why don’t you come hangout with-“

“Yeah no. Only Y/n calls me Minoru. You’re not allowed. Call me Mineta like you always do. Now, as I was saying before you RUDELY interrupted me Asui. Did you get it..?” He looks at you eyes filled with a special shine and it’s then, how you remember you got with this little shit.

“Yes I got it.” You let your smile show and he fist bumps the air but afterwards, he quickly wraps his arms around your small frame.

Somehow he went from being 108cm (3’6”) to 179cm (5’10”) and you weren’t gonna lie and say you didn’t like it.

Especially when he leaned his chin on your head while holding you close to his chest. You really like that.

Even though you don’t want to,

but it’s not like you’d ever admit you absolutely positively love it.

That you absolutely positively love him.

No, that just isn’t ethical. You’d never tell him shit.

At least not to his face..

“Why were you mad at me?” You don’t know when he managed to pull you on his lap but his grip around you tightens and he shoves his face in your neck.

“You mean why am I mad at you currently?” His head shoots up from its spot in your neck and he turns your head with his hand quickly.

“What can I do Peach? How can I fix it? Can I fix it? Did I mess up bad? Are you gonna lea-“ his voice started to shake a bit but you cut him off quickly with a finger pressed to his lips.

God. We’re still on a public bench. This is embarrassing.

“It is something you can fix. However I don’t know if you’ll even be willing to listen to me when I say it, and no Minoru. I’m not going to leave you.”

“I will fix anything I can to make you happy. Now tell me what I can do please!” His grip around you somehow managed to tighten more and you have to tap his arms so he’ll loosen the crushing grip he has around your ribs and lungs.

Mostly so you can breathe but also because the poor guy doesn’t know his own strength now that he’s got it.

“You’re really flirty, and you know, I love it..” he nods and you took this as your opportunity to continue.

“But not when it’s towards other girls..” his eyes widened and he almost tightens his grip around you again but opts to grabbing your hand and peppering light kisses across it.

“I know you’re not meaning anything bad by it. It just kinda hurts.. especially with Tsu, she used to hate you and now just because you’re attractive according to societies standards everyone fucking loves you. Which don’t get me wrong. I get it. You’re fucking hot, but one, You were hot before and two, you’re mine and I want her and everybody else to realize that.” He nods and kisses your forehead while keeping a tight but comfortable grip around you.

“I’ll work on it Peach. I promise. I can’t have my dream girl feeling insecure after all, she’s the only one I want. The only one who’s cared for me no matter what I look like and how I’ve acted. After all I love you, I’d do anythi-“ you were listening intently, so when he said that and you choked, he was confused for two reasons.

But he couldn’t decide which one he was more confused about.

1. Did you really not know?

Or 2. Did you not believe him?

Or 3. Were you actually choking?

“Is that funny?” You shook your head quickly.

“No! I love you too! I just-“ he interrupts you before you can finish.

“Just what? Didn’t know..?” You looked away at that.

“Have I really been that bad at showing you how much you mean to me?” You didn’t say anything. Or move.

“Peach.. please be honest..” you nodded and it’s then that he sees the tears brimming in your eyes, and he goes back to his crushing bear hugs.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry! I’ll do so much better! I promise Peach! I’m gonna show you that I love you and only you. I don’t need the attention of anyone else. Just you. God I just need you with me, in my life. As a part of mine. I’m so sorry that I haven’t shown you that properly-“ his repeated rambling turns into tears welling up in his eyes now.

“Sugar, it’s okay you didn’t know. I wasn’t communicating with you. It’s not just on you, you didn’t know that what you were doing was making me uncomfortable because I didn’t bother to tell you. I didn’t want you to get mad at me for being jealous.” His eyes widened again.

“W-Why would I be mad..?” When you shrugged he nodded but kissed your cheek.

“I would never be mad at you for telling me how you feel. I’m a moron sometimes, and I know that I’m not the brightest crayon in the crayon box, but, you make me feel special everyday, knowing I haven’t been giving you that same feeling kills me. I’ll do better. I know I will, because I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” Your cheeks burned as the girls behind you groaned and started to walk away.

“Minoru can we please go home. I love you but this is embarrassing..” He grins and uses one hang to grab your hip, and the other for under your thigh, holding them snugly as he stands up, and carries you as he walks.

“T-This is even worse!” He smiles when he feels your arms tighten around his neck.

“Well we’ll be home soon and then I can do even more embarrassing things Peach.” He whispers in your ear and leaves a short kiss on your jawline. Chucking when he hears you squeak and your grip tighten.

Yeah, you’re fucked when you get home.

Quite literally.

#my hero academia #mha x reader #mha fluff #class 1a #bnha minoru #bnha fluff

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unabashedlysaltyzombie · 3 years ago

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Chronicles of an Idiot (1)

Hello there. This will be the chronicles of, well, me. I am an idiot. It is January 1, 2021. I am totally feeling alone and will share my wonderful sob stories with you all. So here it goes. I can tell anyone anything here because its anonymous, I don’t have to worry who will read this or not, but at least it’s out there, and for right now, somehow that makes me feel better. Half of the relationships I have been in (half of the relationships I actually cared about) just so happened to be the ones where I was treated like actual dog shit. Packages come complete with PTSD moments, meltdowns, crying episodes, and a whole lot more. The whole point of me writing this is stupid. I am with my family for new years eve and new years, but I still feel alone; and i’m pretty sure some of you have felt the same way. I was watching Runaway bride with Richard Gere (a total hunk, don’t care what age he is), and it never made me feel more alone. Boo hoo, right. A lot of weird things are happening in my life right now. I am moving away from some bad things and behaviors in my life and it has left me feeling more alone. No matter if it was a good thing for me to leave the behaviors, people, ideas, etc. behind. That’s the scary thing of a new chapter I guess. You never know if you will ever stop feeling the way you’re feeling or if it will really get better, or if you’ll slip and put yourself some place worse. As a general disclaimer, no - I definitely do NOT want to die, I am just not having a great time at the moment. And yes, I do see someone to talk about my issues. But sometimes when you have some time to yourself, you just want to vent to someone you don’t know. Everyone I know isn’t close enough to me to allow me to go into full emotional dump truck mode. Half of my family are assholes, while the other half I really don’t feel comfortable sharing anything with them. My friends are scattered around the world, and there is no one I feel that 100% is my best friend or relates to me. I am aware I am not the only one who feels that way, and I don’t necessarily need to be told so. But growing older has proven to be, well. Weird. Here are some things I just don’t understand:

Why do people call other people they know “friends” when they are really only “friendly acquaintances?”

Does anyone want to treat your friends like family?

Who is close to their family?

When I first approached adulthood, I never understood why family wasn’t there for each other, or why my friends said “we should hang out” and always hung out with everyone except me. Friends should be people you call your family. Best friends who don’t support you no matter what. People who should tell you that you’re being an idiot, and tell you “no, if you date that asshole again I think you need to stop complaining to me and smell the coffee”. Why aren’t people like that? I suppose there are but they are few and far between. I only have one real best friend, and I don’t feel like she can fully relate to me either. That’s the whole point of this stupid journal thing. I feel like the best friend who should understand you all the way through is your partner, compadre, significant other, etc. And that, in a way, I am partially empty because I have no one like that. As a general PSA, I will be talking about God in these posts, Jesus, to be specific. If you don’t like it, tune out now and blessings on your journey. But I just wonder what God will do, what He has in store for me, and I also almost feel guilty for feeling empty. I think that I shouldn’t feel that way, and feel content with being with God and alone with myself. My stupid mistakes and current circumstances have isolated me, and it is going to make the spring that much harder for me. Maybe it will be better so I can dive into my work and make more money. Who knows. But I suppose I will write here whenever. I have barely scratched the surface of anything and may not go deeper, we will see. Anyways.

Deuces.

-V

#journals #stupid #diary

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cosmicheromp3 · 5 years ago

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let’s talk about snowbirds don’t fly for a second, shall we: the arc where roy’s addiction was first introduced, and how it actually affected the relationship between roy and ollie.

people’s perception of snowbirds don’t fly and the events surrounding it is so... weird, to the point where it often makes me wonder whether they’ve actually read the comic (and roy’s appearances right after, but i realize those might be less known) or whether they’re just going off a few very specific panels and inaccurate recounts – usually from people that will twist anything in their favour to call ollie a bad guy.

because, if you pieced together what most people seem to think happened – and this is what i was expecting to find once i decided to read it myself –, in snowbirds we should see: roy, not yet an adult and still under the active care of ollie, starts using drugs, and oliver’s so caught up in himself and negligent that he doesn’t notice what’s happening. when he finally finds out, he lashes out, hits roy and kicks him out of the house, leaving roy without a home. this makes their relationship crumble, and roy starts hating ollie because of it. they don’t speak to each other, and leave in awful terms.

and... in many aspects, that’s so far from the events you'll see if you actually go read green lantern #85 (snowbirds don’t fly) and #86 (they say it’ll kill me... but then won’t say when!). i’m assuming a lot of misconceptions happen because of a) writers with a grudge against ollie who retroactively, and unfairly, painted him in a bad light, and people took this at face value, and b) retcons that came with the new 52 reboot – but, i'll be honest, i don’t care enough to go read that mess even for this post. in general, i’m pretty sure we all agree that we ignore out of character comics; let’s not make roy and ollie the exception to that, yeah?

first i want to get something out of the way, that i feel like i need to mention even though there’s probably people that have talked about it better than i could. when we analyze this comic we should keep in mind that the characters in the story were meant to fill specific roles for the sort of... PSA comic that dc was trying to make, and in the 70s, at that. considering this, both roy and ollie are plot devices.

the creative team behind the story (o’neil and adams) have said that they chose roy to be the average “good” teen who fell into drugs – as a way to say “this could happen to anyone, even to this reputable superhero”. ollie was the caring but imperfect parent who missed the signs – not abusive but distant at the moment, he was meant to be more like a nudge to parents to pay closer attention. it was written to play as a sort of “this could happen to the best of us” situation. and in that context, ollie is made to react in a way that is at most "not ideal" for the standards of its time: he hits roy, and denies to himself that roy’s addiction is a real problem that needs to be dealt with delicately. this is used to send the message of “don’t react like this”.

that isn’t exactly the point of this post, and i don’t want to downplay the harm ollie did with his reaction or absolve him of any blame. the point of this post is: people seem to think that’s where the storyline ended, that was ollie’s final reaction, and those are the terms in which ollie and roy parted; which is just not true.

instead, ollie hitting roy happens in the very first page of green lantern #86 – we have an entire issue in which ollie is faced with his initial reaction and made to confront his mistake (which is more than we can say for, um, other father superheroes that have hit their children. i won’t name names.) the only moment you could read as him “kicking roy out” – which is the phrasing i’ve seen applied to this – happens the very next page, where ollie tells roy to “get out”.

the thing is, roy was not living with ollie at the moment. there was nowhere that ollie could kick him out from. “get out” means just that: get out of this room (and ollie didn’t intend anything more than that with his words.) the comic makes a point of stressing that roy is, by that point, independent, and old enough to be living without a guardian.

ollie, right after roy leaves, thinks: “but he shouldn’t need attention–at his age”. ollie is in the wrong here because of his close-minded view of addiction and because he’s not considering that, though a legal adult, roy is still young and needs care, but it still shows that roy was largely on his own by then. ollie’s reaction is definitively negative and a rejection, but can’t in any way be seen as “kicking roy out”, because it isn’t. (note, also, how ollie’s first thought is that he failed roy, but his denial and stubbornness get in the way and he shifts the blame. he’ll eventually have to get over this and change.)

we see that ollie plays the role of the father that reacts poorly, and he is directly contrasted with the adults who do take responsibility for roy – hal at first, and dinah after, are the ones who play the role of “this is how you should react.”

hal finds roy without knowing what happened between him and ollie, and his first reaction is to take roy to a doctor; he immediately recognizes that what roy needs is help – and will later say so to ollie. when roy refuses, saying he wants to kick the addiction on his own – to prove himself to ollie, because even though he doesn’t think ollie was right he still values his opinion and their relationship, but i’d say there’s something he’s trying to prove to himself, too –, hal recognizes that he doesn’t know anything about drug withdrawal or addiction, and he’s receptive to roy, asking him questions and listening without judgement.

so he takes roy to dinah, who is the one that (very kindly, might i add, because dinah and roy weren’t that close at the time) cares for roy while he goes cold turkey. roy, possibly rather unrealistically, though i’m no expert, kicks the addiction in the span of a few pages. before the ending of this arc, roy has already gone clean.

there’s a one week timeskip there, where we assume that out of the characters featured in this story, roy only interacts with dinah, and ollie’s been with hal. then, before the conclusion of this story, roy is given a place to confront ollie and call him out for his mistakes. roy calls him out for turning his back on him, and he gets to tell him – and show him, punching him in a scene where it’s implied that ollie completely deserves it, unlike the opposite situation that this issue started with – about the pain he’s been in. we are given, in text, a moment where roy can express to ollie what he’s been going through, what he did wrong, and how it affected him.

(this is a moment where the intentions of the comic are very clear, not only because roy practically turns to the camera to deliver the PSA, but also because of the wording: roy told ollie that he turned his back on him, and in the same page he talks about society turning its back on drug addicts, same wording twice. ollie and roy are both meant to represent something other than just themselves, even if this happened in continuity and ended up affecting their characters in the long run.)

and ollie – unlike in that first page, now ollie is shown to listen and understand. he’s not in the same place or mindset he was in when everything started. in the beginning, ollie thought that there must be something inherently bad about a person who does drugs, in a reflection of society’s – and parents’ – views of the issue. and that shows in his initial denial and reaction: ‘how could my son, who’s a good person, do this?’ then, in this scene, when roy tells him he beat the addiction, he answers “good boy” – roy immediately rejects this notion, and emphasizes that there’s more to it than his own goodness: what’s important is the help he received, namely from hal and dinah, and a caring environment. ollie, at the very least, begins to understand this, and in doing so understands very clearly what he needs to change about their relationship if he wants roy back.

this means that ollie starts undergoing character development in this one issue alone. the thing about ollie, in regards to his relationship with roy, is that he has made mistakes and the narrative acknowledges it; but, when well written, he realizes and admits it, making a point of learning from his mistakes. roy knows that ollie has fucked up, too, and doesn’t let him off the hook for it, but he also recognizes that he makes an effort to be better. especially after snowbirds, this informs their relationship a lot.

by the end of the issue they’re not hugging, and roy is leaving on his own, but that’s completely of his own accord. and these are the last panels in the entire issue:

the whole original comic, but mostly these panels specifically, is what makes me wonder about people’s perception of these events, and the misconceptions i previously mentioned – because i really am confused as to how you could reconcile these two opposite readings. unless, you know... people are speaking without ever touching the original comic. (i don’t want to blame anyone for not reading older comics, but please, if you’re gonna speak, especially if it’s to shit on a character or call them abusive the way people do with ollie, do it in an informed way.)

so, right after the events of snowbirds, because roy was allowed to speak up and ollie was made to listen, at least as much as can be expected through his stubbornness, they’re in much better terms than people usually think. if you look at roy’s chronology, he interacts with ollie in his next few appearances (barring the teen titans ones), teaming up as they normally would, with the one difference being the emphasis that’s put into the fact that roy has grown away from ollie – in the same way as any young adult would grow away from a parent. there’s also roy’s resentment for ollie’s actions, but this resentment is portrayed as deserved and it doesn’t turn their interactions into something negative. it’s still clear that they both care for each other, and there’s certainly no hate.

[from action comics #436/2]

this first one takes place a few months after roy goes his own way. roy is in the middle of working a case when ollie gets involved, and they work on it together. green lantern #100/2 is their next appearance and has a similar plot, this time with dinah working with them as well. in both of these, they still work well together, are able to communicate in action and have each other’s backs.

in the action comics issue, ollie insists that roy is still welcome by his side, and that he should still feel free to ask for help whenever he needs it. roy refuses in the way that’s shown in the panels above – saying that he needs to “be a loner for a while” and build a life of his own (though it’s not an exact parallel, because ollie is ollie and takes “loner” to a whole other level, the wording here reminds me of the way ollie tends to leave on his own whenever he feels like he needs to find himself). you’ll see that these interactions aren’t hostile at all – quite the opposite.

world’s finest #251/3 might be the one where their interactions are the most tense, and that’s mostly just in the end. when they’re done with the usual superhero team-up, ollie shows willingness to talk to roy:

“i can’t help out. roy’s back, and, well– we’ve got a lot of talking to do.” through these issues, we realize that ollie has learned: his previous mistake was not paying enough attention to roy, and not showing him that he could always count on ollie (both in noticing roy’s addiction, but also before, in not taking enough care so roy wouldn’t get to that point). he tries to make up for it every chance he has, but it’s always on roy’s terms. everyone is aware that ollie is the one who was in the wrong, and it’s up to roy to forgive him or not, but no one ever pressures roy to do so. when roy doesn’t want to stay and talk, ollie accepts it.

ollie atones again and again, and their relationship isn’t magically fixed and they don’t go back to being close without effort – effort which rightfully has to be done, again, mostly on ollie’s part. but they never, ever go so far as to hate each other.

then, in green arrow (1988) #75, ollie feels so bad about what happened between them, about the way he screwed up, he essentially says to roy that he wouldn’t fault him for wanting to shoot him. “so go ahead. god knows, you’ve got plenty of reason.” roy has been brainwashed here; he breaks through it because of ollie’s words.

and, after this whole ordeal is done, this is how they part ways:

by this point, roy already has lian and a life of his own. he’s gone back to being speedy and then arsenal, he’s in the titans again and he will become a renowned hero in his own right. he might have forgiven ollie a long time ago, but now that he has found himself – like he set off to do at first – he seems more prepared to make amends and see where he stands with him (maybe i’m attributing more consistency among these issues, that happen years apart, than we should actually give them credit for, but i can’t help trying to find the common themes.)

after these, which are the most immediate interactions after snowbirds, we have multiple instances of them being close again. it’s in every small moment they have together, really, but off the top of my head, a couple that are illustrative for their relationship are green arrow: the archer’s quest and justice league of america (2006) #7, even though they don’t directly interact in this last one. i was gonna include panels from both, but this is getting long enough; i urge you to read them, especially if you followed along reading the issues i’ve mentioned, because they’re great. what i am gonna include, cause it’s amazing, is this panel from justice league of america wedding special.

in my opinion, these misconceptions around ollie and roy not only are a disservice to their characters but also mean that people are missing out on what i think is a really interesting relationship. it’s almost rare to see a relationship evolve in a way that feels so organic in comics, not only because the interpersonal conflict here is shown to have real, tangible consequences but also because the characters are allowed to grow in a way that is gradual and natural and even satisfying.

ollie and roy's relationship might have never been the exact same after snowbirds – but which father-son relationship stays the same after the son grows up? and i think it's a testament to the strength of their bond that without ever ignoring these events (because, as i’ve shown, they’re very much acknowledged again and again) they not only never stop loving each other, but are also able to keep building something meaningful going forward.

#roy harper #ollie queen #green arrow #dc #dc meta #drug mention //#long post //#i was gonna put this under a read more but u know what. i'm not gonna give u the option to scroll past this. you are forced to read it #not really but u know hgsdhghsj #you'll notice how many times they call each other dad/son in these panels and that wasn't even intentional #not to keep comparing this to u know who but u know who could never

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timeforelfnonsense · 4 years ago

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Dafni of Gwynneth

(Art by @freckled-king & @mooreaux)

Dafni’s Playlist || Sunshine & Starlight (Dafni x Astarion) Playlist || Bg3 Ao3 series (EA Content) || Sunshine & Starlight Ao3 || D&D Beyond || Artwork of Dafni

With more people joining the fandom, I figured I'd reintroduce her. She's been around since EA and has gone through some changes here and there. Some have stuck, and others that ended up getting cut.

Hopefully, this will be her final big lore update. I am happy with where she is now and how she's fitting into my new drafts for Sunshine & Starlight. If you've been around for a bit, you might notice I landed on a version of her story that is close to my early drafts of her backstory in the end. So this is my PSA to writers to always hold on to your content, even stuff you cut because you never know what you might end up using.

Dafni Ríwen

Alignment: Chaotic good

Race: Eladrin

Class: Cleric of Corellon Larethina || Fey Wanderer Ranger

Background: Outlander

Age: 160

Birthday: Ches 19, 1332 DR

Sign: Pisces, ESFJ

Home: Peleira, Kingdom of Sarifal, Gwynneth’s feywild.

Nicknames/Other names: Daffodil (Astarion), Sprout (Her mother and older sisters), Kora (Childhood name), Despoena (True name)

Traits:

I was driven by wanderlust to travel far from home

I am tolerant of other faiths and respect the worship of other gods

I approach everything with enthusiasm, even the most mundane chore

I can’t stay still. I’m always picking things up, absently fiddling with them, and sometimes accidentally breaking them.

Ideals: Nature, Charity, Change, Creativity

Flaws:

I put the wellbeing of others before myself

I don’t fully grasp customs and niceties outside of the wilds

A pretty face infatuates me in an instant, but facies can fade just as fast.

There’s no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest.

Bounds:

I hold all varieties of elves in tender regard.

I protect those who cannot protect themselves.

I never leave a friend behind.

Appearance:

Dafni is a petite, chubby elf with curly hair and wide mossy-brown eyes. Like most Fey eladrin, Dafni’s appearance changes with her emotional state.

Spring/Light Form

Complexion: Light sage green skin with golden freckles

Hair: light, dusty pink

Faerie fire Illusory butterflies (Morpho aurora)

Flowers for Moods:

Snowdrops & Lily of the Vally: Happy

Foxgloves: Anger, feisty, protective

Ivy: Envy

Daffodil/Narcissus: Flirty, affectionate (Astarion only)

Wilted flowers: Sadness, low moods

No flowers: Trying to hide her fey nature

When she is particularly happy or using her cleric powers, she glows slightly

Winter/Shadow Form

Complexion: Pale pinkish gray

Hair: Light pinkish lavender

Faerie fire lunar moths

She radiates wisps of shadow when she is particularly sad, serious, or using her shadow-touched abilities.

Dafni was born on the spring equinox to Thesmia, a very old and powerful eladrin druidess and bladesinger. Her home, Peleira, is hidden deep within the feywild of the Lylarth Forest. It was built around an ancient oasis created by the first elves to come to the Feywild. It is a place shaped by sylvan and elvish magic, with spires and structures of flawless marble reflecting the breathtaking, everlasting sunset’s burnt oranges and vivid violets.

Hundreds of years of loving restoration returned the oasis to its former glory. Thesmia has made Peleira a paradise and refuge for elves, nymphs, and other fey. Peleria is a vassal of the Kingdom of Sarifal, part of the Court of High Lady Ordalf. The village is the island’s primary source of food and medicinal vegetation. It is also home to Thesmia’s Spire of Laural, one of the most vast collections of elven history and artifacts outside of Evermeet. Thesmia had taken in several wards over the centuries. These women help Thesmia run the village.

Dafni’s father is a shadar-kai knight and servant of the Raven Queen, whom Lady Ordalf has been in conflict with due to a shadow curse taking over one of Gwynneth’s forests.

When Thesmia grew tired of her life in the court’s capital, Caspian granted her the memory of Peleira in the form of an enchanted compass that would always point towards it. A gift Thesmia has since passed on to her daughter.

Due to her shadar-kai, linage Dafni’s seasonal affinities manifest differently than most eladrin. She only has two forms: Spring (Light) and Winter (Shadow). Dafni’s dubious paternity is an open secret at court and has led to some unkind treatment outside her village.

Thesmia is a loving but overprotective mother who sheltered Dafni for most of her life. Dafni was allowed much less freedom than her older sisters growing up, creating friction between herself and her mother.

Starting at age 17, Dafni began training as her mother’s apprentice. While Dafni excelled at druidcraft, she was somewhat inept with wizardry and complex magic. By age 30, her mother had released her from the apprenticeship. Despite never fully mastering the tradition, Dafni still incorporates many bladesinging techniques into her fighting style.

Cleric Calling:

Dafni’s soul holds an extra spark of the divine. She was among the few elves who chose not to take a fixed form and thus was not cast out from Arvandor. This is her first mortal lifetime.

The elves believe that to truly feel Corellon’s presence, they must seek to know themselves. Much of the work Corellon wants her to do as a mortal is centered on her learning to trust in herself more and to make her own choices for her own reasons, not because she thinks it is what is expected of her by external factors, even him.

Dafni has always tended to wander off when something catches her attention. As a small child, she followed a whips deep into the woods surrounding her village.

Unbeknownst to her, a drider exiled from the feydark had taken up residence in the forest. Perhaps sensing her dormant divine power, the creature planned to sacrifice her to win Lolth’s favor. As she was dragged into the heart drider’s den, an enchanted arrow buried itself into the creature’s skull.

A wandering Corellite had saved her. Dafni didn’t recognize him from the village, but he seemed incredibly familiar. He comforted her and headed her injuries.

He took her hand and guided her through the forest. Once they reached the border of Peleira, the man crouched down, placing his quarter moon amulet around her neck.

When she asked why, he smiled and told her it had always been hers and that he had only been holding onto it for her. He told her he had to leave but promised they would meet again.

Corellon has been known to wander the multiverse incognito, seeking new magic and ideas. Despite encouraging self-reliance among his followers, Corellon is a relatively involved deity. Dafni is entirely unaware of the true nature of this encounter. From her perspective, she was simply saved by a cleric.

After her mother released her from bladesinging apprenticeships, Dafni felt lost and directionless. She had never wanted to be a wizard, but she had seen it as her only path for the first 30 years of her life.

She had, at least, inherited her mother’s green thumb. Nature had always seemed to sing in her presence. Her inherent fey magic could coxing even the most wilted plant into bloom. But, her’s was the power of springtime, wild and unbound. She could manage a small garden well enough but was ill-suited to the organized work of yielding crops.

She became depressed and sulked around her mother’s tower in her shadow/winter form for a few months. She had to sit with herself and figure out what she wanted out of her life. Dafni had always had an affinity for the divine. Still, she never pursued it beyond a hobby out of fear of disappointing her mother.

She thought of the cleric who saved her from the drider as a girl. How brave and kind he had been. She realized that that was her calling. To nurture and protect her people.

Although she never received formal training through a temple, her mother’s library was fast and contained many resources on elven theology. Additionally, she still had some access to her primal memories. Allowing her to tap into her knowledge from her first lifetime as a priestess in Arvandor.

BG3 Set Up:

Dafni lived alongside the wood elves of Lylarth Forest in the material plane for a few decades. During those years, she began to come into herself.

She began to feel a pull toward Bauldr’s Gate following a brief adventure with a group of shipwrecked adventurers. She has taken up residence in the Twin Songs neighborhood of the outer city. She rents a townhouse out of which she runs a small clinic, providing both traditional and magical healing.

The Ancunín family owns the townhouse she lives in. After the death of their son, they moved to their country estate full-time but retained their properties and assets in the city. Dafni has never met the people who rent to her. Minimrie Virra, an elf from a lower noble family, manages the building.

Dafni was on her way to the Cloak Wood Forest on the city’s outskirts to treat an outbreak of fever in one of the local wood elf clans when the mind flayers took her. She planned to stay with the wood elves for at least a tenday. She was relatively well packed for her adventure, having her medicine chest, adventuring supplies, etc. on hand when abducted.

The feywild seeps into the material plane on Gwynneth significantly, with some locations existing both planes at once. Her only knowledge of the world beyond the island came from a group of adventurers she had aided following a shipwreck and courtly gossip. She often struggles with the customs and decorum of the material plane.

Gear & Notable Items: Long sword, Oathbow, A golden compass that points towards the nearest portal to the feywilds within 10 miles, A holy amulet of Corellon, lyre, Feywilds & Shadowfell shards, moon sickle, Medical chest & herbalist tools.

Fun facts:

Her favorite treat is lemon bars and honey cake.

She likes romance novels.

She has kept a diary most of her life. She has a century of filled journals in her room.

She loves tea and has a collection of teacups at home.

She plays the lyre & harp.

She’s an Arachnophobe

She can spin and weave.

She is vulnerable to cold iron because of her fey ancestry.

In addition to her cleric abilities, Dafni has studied nonmagical medicine and is a talented surgeon and healer.

Despite being a faerie, she can technically lie. However, the lies taste like soot and bile in her mouth. The taste is more pungent the more significant the lie, so she tries to avoid it.

She thinks she can bake, but it always turns downright awful.

Past life:

Warning: this section has spoilers for a few story elements for Sunshine & Starlight.

Despoena served as a priestess of Elyadia. The acolytes of the temple were sworn to Corellon, Creator of the Elves. The priests were healers and warriors who served as liberators to those stripped of their freedoms. Elyadia offered refuge to elves who had experienced trauma and needed rehabilitation of both physical and emotional wounds.

Reincarnation:

After the war, all but the few elves who didn’t take fixed-physical forms were cast out of Arvandor. Despoena, ever loyal to her god, chose to remain in Arvandor.

She grew restless without a purpose, wandering the empty halls of Elyadia until the temple became overrun by nature. Tired of watching her talents go to waste, Corellon began sending elven souls afflicted by malevolent magics or wounds of the heart and mind to Elyadia, along with elven clerics who accomplished great acts of healing and magic in their mortal lives who wanted to continue to serve their people during their time in the afterlife.

When she first came into being, she had felt limitless and free. She had lost herself in her grief and out of a misguided desire to please Corellon. It became apparent to her that self-discovery would likely need to happen outside of Arvandor. She implored Lord Corellon to allow her at least one mortal experience. Much to her surprise, Corellon was in favor of her request.

Corellon hopes for her to discover that while her kindness and love for her people are great strengths, self-sacrifice to the point of living for other people’s happiness hinders her potential. She’s finding balance and learning that being your person doesn’t have to be at the cost of compassion and community.

Thiramin:

“Like most other important things in their lives, elves describe this mystically. They believe that a person’s spiritual progress is unknowingly intertwined with that of another. This soulmate is called a thiramin.”

Dafni and Astarion are fated mates. They were friends and lovers in their original lifetimes. Free will and self-determination are central to the elven existence. The souls bound simply pulled them together. They have to choose what to do with it.

For Aidon (Astarion), it was love at first sight; he saw her gathering flowers near the temple. She still burned bright with magic lost to the majority of their people. Being near her felt like the wild, endless possibility of spring had taken root in his soul.

Knowing he would not be permitted to approach the temple grounds, he watched her from the shadows for a time. Aidon had a clever mind and a talent for creating loopholes in any rule between himself and his desires.

Despoena was curious by nature. When a strange trail of snow-white daffodils appeared at the edge of the temple grounds, she could not resist the urge to see where they might lead. At the end of the trial, she found a shaded meadow and a masculine elf with a pleased grin.

He was irreverent, flirtatious, and unlike anyone she had known before. He was fiercely independent and sure of his desires. His sharp wit and easy charm had taken Despoena.

Over the centuries, they often wandered back into each other’s lives. They are echoes of each other in many ways, creatures of opposing but complementary nature. This was the source of the occasional falling out, though they always reconciled.

Despoena never stopped mourning the loss of his company following the events of the war of the Seldarine. She thought of him often and even occasionally, looking into his mortal lives.

#bg3 #bg3 oc #dafni of gwynneth #The Ladies of Laurel #Dafni's Lore Doc

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juuls · 3 years ago

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Pharmacist/Me = 1 🏆 Doctor/Nursing Staff = 0

Thank you in advance for reading this rant. I’ve been really frustrated and just needed to get this off my chest, and today at least I had a wonderful knight in a white lab coat. 🩺❤️‍🩹🥽🥼💪🏻

Content warnings and squicky squicks: (further down there is) an image of a medical vial with a clipped image of a more benign part of a syringe, health conditions (endometriosis, fibromyalgia), menstrual cycles and associated terms such as bleeding and other things, lack of empathy in my specific healthcare system, hysterectomies, pain, swearing and losing patience. Most important warning: self-administered syringes and injection discussions of legal medications (Depo-Provera) approved of by professionals and properly researched. P.S. this may sound rather Karen-like but I would never do this to someone’s face. Online ranting and acknowledging where I could do better is not the same as screaming in public for bossy requests or comps, etc. Ew.

Another ‘warning’… pharmacists being kick-ass allies and giving a damn about their patients.

I’m really annoyed because (and I know healthcare and scheduling is a clusterfuck right now, but…) for over a month now I’ve been trying to get an appointment in person to get this injectable medication that is, yes, birth control, but is also used for endometriosis in my case. And I have severe endometriosis (exacerbated severely by fibromyalgia, siiiiigh) to the point I bleed enough and lose so much I have to go to the hospital when my care is not properly preventative… like in this case, and the pain is unbelievably severe also to the point I’ve spent time in the hospital, including my 11th Christmas Eve and Day. I started this injectable medication at 13 because it was the only thing that came close to helping reduce my endometrial tissue. Even a hysterectomy wouldn’t help as much, unless they decided to go the super invasive route and remove all the organs (or parts of them) that had become ‘infected’ by the tissue. Again, tissue where it’s not supposed to be, and it causes extreme pain as the tissue tries to flush out of my body each period, even if it’s attached to, like, my pancreas. Just no. That does not work at all. No. That is not fun.

SO. I’m 31, nearing 32, and the doctor’s office knows this. I’ve had the same doctor since I was 10. Been on this medication nearly non-stop for just shy of two decades (with appropriate precautions such as bone density tests) because of the absolute severity of the pain and my inability to function when it hits… which can be months at a time of non-stop bleeding and morning sickness-level nausea and vomiting, migraines and the occasional complete inability to move—in other words, it’s debilitating.

My doctor (even the nurses, as it’s in large print at the top of my file in the system) knows all about this. They’re supposed to call me if I’m overdue by a certain margin (I get they’re busy but months and months???). But my doc’s also a bit of an airhead (albeit a smart one when he focuses) and takes forever to reply to anything on time, even when it’s a severe issue, but not severe enough to go to the hospital. But it’s gotten to the point where the nurses say to go to the ER and then the ER nurses and doctors there get SUPER pissed off (AT ME AND SOMEHOW NOT AT MY DOCTOR/NURSES AND THEIR ORDERS) at the ‘waste of time’, and it’s just a clusterfuck.

Oh yeah, and that ER visit while I was overdue for my injection? Internal intestinal bleeding along with a lovely, even if small, perforation in my fucking uterus from the growth of endometrial tissue. I MEAN COME ON — WHAT IN THE HELL. Totally preventable if they fit me in when I called literally over a month ago.

But I will not change my doctor (the other docs at the practice know what is going on and have offered to take me on, but they don’t have the experience with myself and my conditions or the history, but they can do little else because of professional conduct—it’s between myself and my doc) because he is the only one who treats me with humanity and understands fibromyalgia, endometriosis, pre-MS and pre-RhA/PsA, endo-related IBS, (ulcerative) colitis, and other neurological conditions with any degree of empathy. (See, I told you I’m a mess!) There is no way I’m switching offices in the perpetual shortage of doctors in Canada moving elsewhere for m o n e y (plus Covid-19 being a teen hooligan and constantly coming back to wreck more goddamn shit, including everyone’s sanity, then setting things on fire like the real hooligans in my village have been doing this summer — I mean… what in the hell!?!?), so with all that in mind I actually thank my lucky stars. So I put up with a lot of this shit because he treats me, besides him being an airhead, like an actual human being deserving of compassion and care and quality of life despite my severe disabilities and pain. So.

I’m usually treated really well (even if they often think I’m a nuisance for daring to be severely chronically ill/in pain all the time) so I try to be patient and good and understanding when I can.

But his STAFF (I know they’re busy and I’ve been patient but they’ve been so awful honestly to the point I cried hard enough my dad noticed my red eyes and frustration-tear fracks on my face)! And the doc himself’s inability to reply to notes on time even when urgent and when he knows the circumstances (I admit I am a bit of a hard patient so I can understand if he just kinda ignores me sometimes, honestly). But in this case I was THREE DAMN MONTHS LATE for my injection and they’ve always called in the past when I was coming due if it looked like I hadn’t scheduled an injection, so that I was all on time and squared away and didn’t risk severe pain and damage to my already-fucked hormonal system (learning I couldn’t have kids was absolutely heartbreaking, let me tell you, but even a hysterectomy in that case would solve nothing — this is by far the easiest option, especially considering how my fibromyalgia would fuck with my post-surgery recovery and leave me with lasting pain for years if not decades; sigh).

Anyway. So. After some ridiculous levels of back and forth and some truly remarkable levels of lack of compassion (she kept giving me the exact same, word for word response in a bored tone UGH) considering the severe pain I was in (I was told, in front of OTHER PATIENTS AND STAFF, that I could just wait until I talk to the doctor myself at my next phone appointment and then schedule my injection for my next MONTHLY followup — 4.5 months overdue at that point, it would’ve been — because, and I quote, ‘am used to dealing with pain because of my fibromyalgia and years of dealing with it and other conditions’ which they named in front of others!!!!!!!! what. the. fuck. But I kept my cool because I know all these people, my mom taught their kids music, they’re a fixture of the community, etc. and I refuse to be a Karen…. At least externally.

But here comes the nice part that makes me love our new (okay, he’s been here like 5 years but still, in a small town that’s pretty new lmao) pharmacist that much more. Rasik was aware of my frustration with the doctor and nurses and was even the one who brought to my attention that, at the time, I was 2 months late for my injection and he was a bit concerned since he’s privy to how much pain I exist in without throwing in one or more knives directly into my womb, ovaries, tummy, hips, and other areas my endometrial tissue has taken root. He’s such a sweetheart and he really does care for his patients— the work he does with my father’s diabetes (the tricky one where you’re not obese) management is above and beyond the call of a pharmacist and I will forever be grateful for that alone, never mind how he cares for me.

So I went in today to pick up another medication, after yet another frustrating stop-over at the nurses’ desks, and he suggested I ask for my injectable medication (it’s Depo-Provera, by the way) and the syringe plus the two tips necessary — I’m actually familiar with this since I had to learn epinephrine injections from an early age (not Epipen) and how to give testosterone daily to my ex-husband (sorry not sorry, dude, but congrats on your first kid *grouchy thumbs up*). But yeah! Legally he’s not allowed to suggest I give it to myself, but he was getting super fed up with the nurses and doctors dragging their feet and ‘being assholes with little empathy’ in his own words, so I took the hint and requested my vial plus syringe, as well as the drawing and injection gauge needles…. which he gleefully filled for me, and I reiterated that it was ‘fully my idea, not yours, Rasik, because everyone knows I’m dumb and would never think it’s you if something happened’ (I’m not dumb and I’ve given injections to others many times looool).

Long story short: HERE’S TO PHARMACISTS AROUND THE WORLD, BEING AMAZING AND CARING FOR THEIR PATIENTS AND ‘BENDING BUT NOT REALLY BENDING’ THE RULES TO MAKE SURE THEIR CLIENTS ARE CARED FOR PROPERLY. They are amazing and deserve every last bit of your courtesy, especially when they pull double duty every. single. day. because of Covid and their subsequent boosters. (i.e. boosters in the form of humans who are fucking stupid if they have no medical reason not to get the vaccine… I mean JFC.)

Rasik? You are amazing and I am 100% going to find you some Indian-Canadian (or North Indian; I believe that’s where he’s from originally) treats or desserts or make some myself after slyly asking his assistant what he leans toward liking.

Be kind to one another, yeah, but… my goodness: be kind to those who can truly make a difference in your health, sanity, and even life or death.

Pharmacists, volunteers, and frontline health workers: the true heroes of these times.

Thank you so much. So very much.

💜💙🇨🇦👨🏽‍⚕️❤️‍🩹🙏🏻

P.S. … now I just gotta stab myself intramuscularly after making sure there’s no air bubbles and etc., and swap out to the proper gauge needle (different, smaller, to draw from the vial, larger to inject so that it goes in more quickly and, oddly enough, hurts less haha). I don’t think air bubbles are as much of an issue as when injecting intravenously (ummm I have a doctor uncle and grandma nurse and nurse friends, so shush 😆). But I’ve done this for others and animals so I should be good! :)

I’m a smart enough cookie even if I’ve lost a few nibble-size pieces around the edges. 😉😘 buahaha

Cheers to my pharmacist!!!! You are amazing and I can’t wait for the pain and months and months of bleeding to settle down.

Remind me again why humans are the only mammals (animals?) with monthly fluxes? UGH wtf ever. 🙃

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years ago

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Could I pretty please request Zen and MC ~platonically~ getting hammered together and just getting into shenanigans? I’m a ✨lesbian✨ and still reslly would love to have these characters as best friends, especially zen because he seems like such a ride or die. If I could have one wish it would be getting plastered with Zen and him making sure I don’t die. Thank you in advance and feel free to reject this one lol

Yes !!! Ofc I can do that :) also I have literally never rejected a request LMAO I’m here for your enjoyment. I’m rlly excited to write this bc everyone is SLEEPING on zen and also ?? The Zen friendship content in Jumin’s route? I’ll never shut up about how much I love it. Also I threw Yoosung in here too pls don’t hate me

Clubbing - Platonic! Zen

Warnings: alcohol (duh lmao)

Summary: you’ve had a rough day at work. Zen’s been meaning to show you around to some of his favorite bars. Zen’s responsible but also wouldn’t hesitate to punch a bitch if need be. Yoosung has to clean up after your messes

Oh! Also. PSA, I’m 19. So have I ever gone out and gotten drunk... no LMAO. I do drink (it’s legal where I’m at as long as you’re with your parents, still wouldn’t be able to drink in a bar though) but only enough to get buzzed usually. Anyway if this is inaccurate that’s why I am so sorry LMAO

You honestly had had the worst day today. It was a pretty bad week, truth be told, and you were so grateful it was the weekend. You texted Zen a lot throughout this week; the two of you had become close friends since the RFA party and hung out almost every weekend. Hearing all about your bad days, he suggested taking you to a bar to let off some steam and give you something to look forward to. You’d never turn down a drink.

You took an Uber to the bar, as did Zen. You expressed your desire to get plastered and Zen agreed wholeheartedly. You had never been to this bar before, but Zen swore by it, so you trusted him.

“Hey!” Zen exclaimed as he saw you get out of the car. He was leaning against the wall of the bar coolly, dressed in the leather jacket he must have pulled out of his closet from the time he was in a motorcycle gang.

“This better be worth the commute,” you teased, not letting him live down the fact that it took almost an hour to get here (primarily due to traffic honestly).

“Oh it will,” he had a giant grin on his face. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t been here in a while, but i doubt it’s changed.” He pushed himself off the wall and made his way inside alongside you. “It’s right outside of a college so you get all the fun college students here.”

“Sounds messy,” you commented, glancing at some girls in skimpy crop tops and high-waisted shorts getting drunk already.

“Much better than bars for real adults. You’ve always got some guy moping over a glass of whiskey in those. Here, it’s all singing and dancing and getting drunk. Of course, I only come when I want to get completely hammered, but it’s always fun. The kids are nice too.”

It was at this point that you reminded yourself that Zen was only 23. He seemed so much older because he’s been on his own for so long, but nope, he was 23. The same age as a lot of the grad students here. So partying with them was not weird or creepy in any sort of way. In fact, the students probably were over the moon to party with someone so famous and, if they weren’t aware of who he was, handsome.

“So what do you typically start with here?” You asked, wanting to get the full experience.

“Shots. Classic move, especially for the med school students. You’ll see them soon enough. They start off with fireball but then make their way down to the cheapest vodka they have as they get more drunk and can’t actually taste it.”

“Let’s follow their influence,” you suggested. Zen went up to the bar and ordered some shots, bringing four glasses back with him. “Do they normally do two at once?” You asked.

“Nah, they’re way too broke for that. But I thought it’d be fun.” He handed you your shot glass and clinked his against it. You gulped down the shot, feeling the familiar fire burn in your throat. (I love fireball LMAO) You shook your head vigorously to counteract the burn, as though that would help, then looked back at Zen. “Good?” He asked.

“Perfect. Round 2?”

“Already?”

You laughed. “Well, it’s here isn’t it? The faster we can get drunk the better.”

You got drunk pretty fast. Zen was constantly handing you drinks, which of course you didn’t turn down. Maybe it was because the two of you hadn’t gotten drunk in a while, but this one hit you hard.

“Will you sing karaoke with me?” Zen chuckled, his cheeks flushed from all the alcohol in his system.

You laughed out loud. “Sure. I’ll even let you pick the song.”

You did not expect him to pick “Before He Cheats” but honestly? A banger of a song. Who doesn’t know all the words to this song?? “Hey, I’m Zen, and this is my best friend,” he slurred out, introducing you before the song started.

You sang in unison, the first instrumental break coming out. “This is for my asshole ex!” You cheered. The college students cheered with you.

“And all my old managers who told me I’d never make it!” Zen added. Everyone cheered again. You walked over to him, tripping on the microphone cord. He caught you a few inches off the ground.

“That would’ve hurt like a bitch,” you commented, bursting into laughter again. He helped you up and held your hand as you crossed over the wires this time, ensuring you wouldn’t get caught again.

Was your performance good? Probably not. Even Zen, who usually sang pretty well, was some sort of hot mess since he was so drunk. But the drunk students seemed to enjoy it, so you padded off the ‘stage’, proud of yourself.

Some dude called your name. Ew. Maybe Zen shouldn’t have introduced you.

Zen whipped around to face him. “If you so much as look at her right now I swear to God I’ll knock you into- Yoosung?”

“Hi!” You turned around to see the origin of the voice; it was indeed Yoosung. “You guys are kinda drunk.”

The two of you simply laughed, brushing him off. “What are you doing here?” Zen asked.

“Oh, well I live right down the street.”

“Oh my goodness you are a college student!” You observed keenly. You were connecting so many dots.

“Yup. Uh, I had an LOLOL event tonight but was super tired, so I thought I’d come and take a shot and it’d help wake me up. Never expected to see you two belting out Carrie Underwood.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh! I have a great idea,” Zen exclaimed, focusing his attention on you.

“I’d love to hear it.”

“Why don’t we just crash at Yoosung’s place tonight? We won’t have to pay for an Uber at high time and get stuck in traffic!”

Yoosung’s eyes widened. “But-“

“That’s pretty smart,” you agreed, nodding. “What do you think Yoosung?”

“I-“ he sighed. “I guess it’s okay. As long as I can play LOLOL.”

“Yay!” You cheered. “We can go now. Lead the way.”

Yoosung hesitantly led you out to the street, walking ahead of the two of you, glancing back every few seconds to ensure you hadn’t died. Zen wrapped an arm around you and you one around him, and you stumbled down the street together, only slightly more stable than you would have been if it were just you on your own.

Luckily Yoosung lived on the first floor. You weren’t sure you’d be able to do steps right now. He unlocked the door to his apartment. “I only have like... a bed and a couch,” he muttered awkwardly. “But we can figure something out.”

You stepped into his apartment, looking around. “Wow Yoosung! This is cute as hell.”

“Uh, thanks, I think.”

You made your way to his couch and collapsed down on it. Zen did so on the other end of the couch at the same time, your legs bumping into each other. You both shifted so that your legs were on top of his so that it was more comfortable.

“Is that really comfortable? You can take my bed,” Yoosung offered.

“Nah, this is great. Will you get us a blankie though?” You asked. Yoosung left to go find something. Zen shrugged off his leather jacket. You were very happy you wore something comfy enough to crash in.

Yoosung draped a blanket over the two of you, his face bright red. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect! Thanks Dad,” Zen joked. Yoosung’s face got even more red, his ears heating up now too.

“Night Yoosungie. Don’t stay up all night,” you commented, shutting your eyes.

You heard something set down on the coffee table. Cups of water and Advil. He was too sweet. “I have class in the morning, so feel free to see yourself out whenever you’re up and ready tomorrow,” Yoosung said. “Goodnight you two.” He chuckled to himself. You and Zen probably looked like absolute idiots, but not that you cared. You had a great night out. Good thing Dad Yoosung was there too.

#mystic messenger #mysme #zen

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years ago

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One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Six! If you’d like to be tagged, please send an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Unrequited feelings. Sexual awareness. Guilt. Use of a currently nonsingle actress, but I love her. So...she’s here. Next chapter starts the steamy side of things ;)

Word Count: Roughly 2,900

The set was solemn as you walked onto it. Two sets of tiny hands tangled with yours as a third held onto your hip. Making your way to the guillotine slowly. Aware that cameras were rolling just around the bend.

“And we just wanted you to hear from us that, um...” Jensen's voice was strong as Jared cleared his throat beside him. However, as you approached, you saw the strain all three men were under. All eyes were red. Puffy from the tears. The other two hunched around Jensen as if he were their rock. “Although we're excited about er...next year? Um...I...It will be, uh...” He looked towards Misha. Arms crossed over his chest as he talked, “the finale.”

Suddenly, you'd understood why Jared had texted you. Suggesting that the kids may be the boost Jensen needed to get through the day. Your heart broke all over again as a sniffle echoed from the side. Another broken crew member trying to hold themselves together.

No one made said a word as the men finished the beginning of their goodbye to their life's longest work. As soon as they were done? Applause rang through the air. The support in the room overwhelming with its intensity.

“Is Daddy okay?” Arrow's voice was soft as she watched in confusion. Brows pinched together tightly.

You didn't get a chance to answer before Justice Jay spoke up, “No...he's sad.” Her eyes moved up to meet yours. “But, Y/N will make him feel better. That's what she does.”

“Go hug him, Y/N!” Zeppelin insisted, lips tugged down. Upset at his father's pain.

“That's your job, kiddo.” Ruffling his hair, you urged them forward. It didn't take much prodding. As soon as the green eyes caught sight of the three children rushing his way, they lit up.

Your hands stuffed into your back pockets as you followed. Keeping your distance. As if they'd truly not let you be part of the fray. Jared tugged you under his arm as soon as you were within reach. Rubbing his knuckles into your hair affectionately. “Nice of you to answer your texts.”

“I figured you were on set,” A pinch to his ribs gave you a rewarding yelp from the giant. But, the glee only lasted a moment. “How're you holding up?” Growing serious, you looked up at the overgrown child. Fingers cocked under his chin to make sure he didn't turn away from your gaze.

“I'll be alright,” The shadows under his eyes said otherwise. But, the grumbling from Misha had you passed around before you could protest. Demanding a real answer.

Jensen watched as you were lifted into the bubbly man's grasp. Laughing at your long lost friend. Misha had a thing about adopting the unusual. And you fit right into the pack.

“Daaaaaad!” The drawn out cry forced his attention back to Zeppelin as both girls snuck off to hunt down the makeup crew and demand their annual glitz and glammer day. “You need to hug, Y/N!”

“I...I ne...need to what?” His held tilted as he crouched down to his son's level. To not only talk man on man, but to ensure his voice didn't carry as far.

“She gives nice hugs. She'll make you feel better.” Earnest as always, the boy tugged on his hand. Concern etched on his mini's brow as he stormed on in his mission. “Trust me, I know.”

“Oh, do you?” A firm nod was the answer. Lips puckered as he inspected the red in his father's eyes. “I bet you learned to give some pretty great hugs yourself, then.”

“They're okay.” The tiny shrug brushed it off. Still zeroed in on the idea that you'd save the day. Kicking at the ground all the while.

Jensen chuckled before reaching out to tug the boy into his arms. Zeppelin let out a giggle for the ages as he wrapped his tiny arms into a vice grip around the thick neck in front of him. “See? Told you.”

His eyes closed as he breathed in the moment. Squeezing his son tight. As if that would hold his life together. When they opened again, the E/C gaze was on him. A small nod your way said it all. An answering bob his way had his lips pulled up.

The day passed by in a blur of emotion. Social medias were lighting up from the announcement. Fans around the world mourning as much as the cast and crew. All three kids were out cold. Tucked into their beds in the lavish apartment. Sighing, you settled down on the couch. Rubbing at your eyes sleepily.

“Hey,” You yawned out without even looking as Jensen walked in. A muttered curse and small crash followed as he tried to tug his footwear off without bending. When you turned to see if he would make it, you found him looking worse than you felt. “I was starting to think you got lost.”

“Long day.” That much you understood. Slowly, you patted the tan material of the couch beside you. As he sank down into the fabric with a deep sigh, you passed him your own unopened beer. Knowing just a bit of relaxation made up for some of the struggles. “Thanks.”

“You good?”

“Not really.” The defeated huff had you looking over every line on his face. You knew the strained expression well. Grief had risen its head again. “I'm just tired. I'll be fine.” Silence stretched between you two. Tense and heavy. Then, the dam burst. Only, it was the furthest thing you'd expected to hear. “I've got a date next week.”

Excitement was the last thing you felt at those words. But, you weren't what was important in that moment. “You don't sound very happy about it.”

“Aren't you supposed to say 'congratulations' or something like that?” He huffed out. Surliness over ruling the sad. “Ya know, supportive?”

“I was just making an observation.” The unimpressed frown had you letting out your own, exasperated breath of air. “Okay, okay, fine. I'll leave that alone.” Against your better judgment, you crossed your legs. Turning to face him better, you decided if you were going to play the role of therapist? You might as well do it properly. Start where he wanted to. “Who's the girl?”

“Gemma Chan.” As you pulled out your phone, the head tilt of confusion was aimed your way. “What-”

“If I have to do the encouraging friend thing? I gotta do what women do best...research.” Captain Marvel. Crazy Rich Asians. She was bigger screen than him, certainly. Gorgeous. Just a few years younger than his forty three years. Single for a little over a year. There wasn't anything notable to find fault with, there. “Damn... how'd you land her?”

“Cliff had Jared and Gen set me up.” When your brow lifted in question, he diverted from the details further. Skittering back to where he wanted it. Only telling you in more ways that he was hiding at least one thing. “Anyways, I could use more of that support stuff right about now.” He waved you on.

“She seems like...a lot.” His exasperation at your answer was quickly cut off by the rest. “But, you're great, Jensen. Okay? You have the perfect kids. A hell of a resume of your own. Don't look half bad...” The last one earned the breathy, sheepish chuckle you'd been going for. His chin tucking down to touch his chest as his hand ran through his hair. “Even if it doesn't work out? It's not the end of the line. There's a whole world out there outside of this one girl.” A gentle squeeze of his bicep had him straightening up on the couch, “And if you're worried about what Danneel would think?” He hid it well. But, you caught the flash of it at the name. Vulnerability. He was losing his show. But, with the date? He was also losing another tie to his dead wife. You were certain that the pain you'd seen stemmed from all that loss. “Don't, Jay... She'd just want you and the kids happy. Okay? That's the goal, here.” He swallowed tightly. Nodding in agreement. “Good.”

“What do ya think?” Jensen turned to the small crowd on the black couch; showing off the brown leather jacket and black tie combo he'd thrown together over jeans.

“It's a no from me.” Justice Jay had no qualms about speaking her mind. She leaned back into the couch with a squinted up expression that looked so much like her mom that you had to bite back a smile. The whole thing was pulled off perfectly with the neon green head band she'd taken from her mom's closet years before. Offsetting the pink t-shirt she'd just grown into.

“Arrow?” Size had nothing to do with personality. The tiny little beauty had dressed herself in a pair of overalls. A bright yellow shirt rested under the jeans. Too loud pink frilled around her from the tutu wrapped around her hips. A red and a black sock covered her swinging feet. Neon green sunglasses rested on her nose. In order to bring the outfit together, she donned a sky blue bow in her fine hair. Looking every bit as solemn as she could, the tiny, rainbow themed child shook her head no; lips pursed into a frown. “Oh, who asked you?” The grumble earned a giggle that made Jensen roll his eyes. “What about you, Zep?”

“Dad...” The actor's mini-me stated very seriously. Folding his hands onto his grass stained knee. Oblivious to the ravioli crested dinosaur on his chest. “I love you.” That earned a raised brow. “But,” Kid or not, Zeppelin went right for the throat, “you need to work on your style.”

It was as if they'd all stabbed him through the heart. His hand rubbed over his chest. Brows furrowed as he took in the beings he'd helped create. Their own fashion statements blasphemy to the outside world as they shot him down. “You're all monsters.”

“It's just casual, right?” You asked from your perch on the floor. Turning away from the puzzle the kids had abandoned half an hour before to save the last shred of dignity on the actor.

“Right,” He was full of nervous energy. Shifting from foot to foot as you inspected his choice in clothes. His squared jaw was smooth from the fresh shave. Too spic and span for your liking.

“Lose the tie, drop a few buttons, and channel Dean. You'll be golden.” With that, you moved back to the puzzle. Forgetting about anymore of that extra bit encouragement he'd asked for when he'd told you about the night out. A deep tug of a frown graced his lips.

Jensen watched the way your fingers trailed across the pieces of cardboard. Pulling together the image of a raven carefully. The same way you seemed to go forward with everything. When did you ever really let loose in your life? Even a little?

“Dad! You're still blocking the TV,” Arrow finally spoke up. Not wanting to miss a second of her precious Rapunzel. Pulling him from his thoughts.

“Right,” He turned away, tugging off the offending tie like you'd suggested. Glancing at the clock to his right, again. The night was supposed to change his life. Get his mind back to reality instead of every lewd image it'd created of the nanny, as Cliff had said. His bodyguard had laid out the perfect plan. It was just a matter of pursuing it. “Alright, there's an hour until bed time-”

“Yes, daddy.” A mocking tone was nothing compared to the words themselves. His breath caught in his throat. The very reason he'd found himself about to go out lingering in the air. “I know the routine,” You chastised without looking his way. Sounding more like an exasperated mother than a nanny. “Go. Have fun on...” You glanced back his way. Knowing that he wasn't ready to let the kids in on what was happening. Quickly, you fixed your wrong. “With your friend.”

Unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, Jensen walked away. Muttering to himself to quell the nerves. It didn't stop as he paced to locate his phone and keys. Didn't even end when he shouted a final goodbye.

When the door finally shut behind him, you let out your breath. In Austin, you could escape his allure easier. Remind yourself that while they cared for you, you were ultimately a side piece in the family. But, in Canada? Things were more cramped. Intimate.

Hanging out on set. In the trailers. Being in the next room over from the father you needed to escape at nights. Torture didn't begin to describe it. So close. And yet, ever out of reach.

The announcement of the ending had only drawn more attention towards the cast and their families. Everyone trying to see what came next. And with that? Came the attacks.

Every kind of conspiracy theory existed. You'd be the next beard for J2. The cast and crew didn't give two shits about your existence, but needed the attention your closeness to Jensen could give them. How you used Jay's grief to trap him into some kind of toxic web. Posts existed about which child you favored and why. Bets on who'd end up in boarding school once the show ended.

You should have ignored them. None of them had any credibility. There wasn't one of them who could say they knew any of you personally. And yet, every one of them dug under your skin. Settling into a poisonous knot in your stomach.

Worriedly, you turned back to the door. Imagining what would happen if he were caught by a photographer. TMZ had eaten his wife's death up. Announcing it a mere hour after it had happened. A grieving widower moving on would be the perfect desert for them.

Shaking away the thoughts, you got to your feet. Ignoring the way Oscar's head shot up at the jerky movement. Sitting around and waiting was useless. There were things to clean. Time to kill.

Ten minutes after tucking the kids into bed, you heard the door click open. Icarus' head lifted from your lap as you turned to see Jensen stroll in. Looking like he'd been through the ringer. For the second time in the span of days, you found yourself about to nurture the head of the house.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” He sighed out. Unzipping his jacket sharply. When it was off, he tossed it haphazardly across the room. Not caring that it landed on the floor.

“Right...” The dirty look you got made you roll your eyes. You picked up the aging cockapoo from your lap. Moving close to the grumpy giant, and placing the snowy pooch in his owner's arms. “Sit down. Cuddle the dog. I'll be right back.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it, Ackles. Trust me!” You ordered. Walking away to raid the kitchen. A few minutes later, you found him less agitated. His hands running over the freshly groomed coat as he rested on the couch. “Take this. And then when you're ready? Spill the dirt.” Your legs tucked under you as you passed him a mug of tea.

“Thanks,” His voice was still gruff. But most of the tension had left his shoulders. After a moment, he finally opened up. Venting about the awkward silence. The pained, overly polite smiles. Everything that fit the fating scene. “Maybe it's too soon,” Jensen leaned back against the couch. Making himself cozy in the habit that had developed between you two.

“Or maybe she just wasn't right for you,” It was a relief to say it. But, you felt for the guy all the same. Dating sucked. “Or,” Being the good guy sucked even more, “maybe she was just as nervous as you were.” He seemed to think that one over. Nodding as if he agreed. “Drink up, kid. You have work tomorrow.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” He groaned out, taking another sip of hot liquid. “So...what about you?”

It was ridiculous how many butterflies swarmed inside of you when his eyes turned your way, “What about me?”

“You aren't gonna find someone if you never go out,” At that, your shoulders drooped a bit. Plopping back against the couch in an almost pout. “It's true, ya know.”

“I know,” You refused to look over at him. Pondering over everything. “What made you decide it was time?” The question had been just another thing eating at you.

“I just...” He wouldn't explain it all. Couldn't. That'd involve coming clean about every look your way. “I miss the little things, ya know? Waking up to a smiling face and all that jazz. I don't...” His throat worked as he talked. “I don't wanna be alone.”

Silently you absorbed everything he'd said. The fragile crack in his voice. Pain in each note. Relating to it more than he knew. Me either, Jay...Me either.

Part Seven

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n

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