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not-a-unique-snowflake-blog · 1 year ago

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That was amazing!!💕😍🙏😭🥹🫂👏

I read the story as soon as I woke up, had to adult all morning but my mind kept returning to Raider sitting by the fire. The image is so vivid in my mind thanks to your immaculate writing🙏🙌

Violent Raider at the beginning🥵 Joel didn’t just kill Harold, he made him into a scarecrow to warn and shoo away the men from his girl.

‘Joel thinks about it all the time. There's something about his little sweet pea being a badass. And thank god, because he almost lost you.’

Has Raider Joel baddest mf Miller just thanked god for something?!?! I know it’s just a phrase but WOW And he’s so proud of SP that he’s almost ready to brag about her skills to his men😍 And yes he’s still Raider who fucks out his anger and takes her roughly but then this🥹

He leans his head against yours and cradles it from the other side as he catches his breath, then asks, "you good?"

He cares and worries about her comfort 😩😭🥺

And he’s making a holster for her!😍 maybe he spends every night perfecting his gift as his way of coming to terms with his feelings. Arts and crafts are therapeutic af and also it’s a great reason to just sit and think about HER, what SHE needs, what would make HER happy🥹

As the weather changes, you'll probably need new clothes, anyway. Maybe even pants, he internally grumbles.

Ok that made me laugh through tears. Not pants!!!😂

He should be thinking strategy, what’s going to happen with these warring crews, but that’s just not where his head’s at.

That’s all. He’s yours SP! Fully and forever😍I really hope that his priority shift won’t hurt them later 👀

Also he hears her touch herself and smiles. He’s happy that she’s enjoying herself. He’s not possessive over her orgasms cos he knows she’s thinking about him🥹

And then the kiss I’m dead i died it’s the most beautiful thing ever ahhsajsjakahshan

The softest, most tender and emotional smut!! Amazing!! 🥵🥵🥵🥵👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

This detail caught my attention🥹

He tests you with a finger and finds you wet but pulls back and pauses to add saliva to his tip.

She’s already wet but he wants to make it even more comfortable and enjoyable for her. And he’s praising her throughout….He sighs and moans?? 😩🫠🫠🫠

Thank you, Toxic!!!🙏👏👏👏💕💕💕

i need more raider joel more than i need air in my lungs

Night air.

3500 words, raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider master list / Joel master

reader-curated playlist | sweet pea (smut songs)

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. . . He makes room for you, but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t. "When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask instead.

SUMMARY: Joel brutalizes a bad guy, gives it to you hard, then works on something for you and gives it to you slow. WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates twice (labeled), ANGST, Joel's trauma, overkill violence (torture, 1st section if you wanna skip), dubcon (stockholm syndrome) unsafe P in V x2, dark fluff, f masturbation, somnophilia, staying inside, Might be a bit emotional to read in public for some people. NO USE OF Y/N. A/N: Credit to @milla-frenchy for Qs and requests in this one. 🖤

—--- JOEL——

Yeah, Joel killed two of his own men, and they had it coming. He caught them red handed on their way into your room in the stash house. It still makes his blood boil to think about. If they hadn’t walked into that room talking about you like a piece of meat, those two men would be alive. Joel would do it again in a heartbeat.

He’s not surprised when the others are shaken, but if they’re good men, they have nothing to worry about. When things remain tense longer than he expects, Joel rounds them up for a group meeting. He puts you in the usual room with his trusted guard Carter posted at the door. The meeting becomes heated.

“No one’s gonna be left at this rate,” one man barks. “They ain’t gonna say it,” he gestures behind him to the other men, “but I will. She shouldn’t be here.”

Joel’s voice raises with his blood pressure. He asks, “What’d you say to me, Harold?" as he stands up.

Louder, maybe loud enough for you to hear, Harold repeats, “She shouldn’t be here. It’s bound to happen.” Bound to happen? These low-lifes are bound to put their hands on Joel Miller’s girl? Joel can feel the beat of his rage in his veins. All his muscles tense.

He takes a deep breath, exhales sharply, then says matter-of-factly, “I’ll show ya what else is bound to happen.”

Joel picks up his rifle.

"Yeah, kill me," Harold chides. "Kill us all." .

Joel shakes his head no. His voice is deep and flat. "Not until ya beg me to." Now he’s gotta make an example out of someone.

Joel forces Harold outside, then puts his rifle behind his back and lets Harold take a swing at him, just for fun. When Joel gets this wound up, he needs to feel something. After getting clocked square in the jaw, Joel beats him until he’s barely conscious. Then, Joel hoists Harold, who is not a light man, and impales him on a sharp, severed fence post.

Joel puts his rifle around front again, leaving Harold alive but doomed, and heads back toward the house. He’s almost to the door when Harold manages to groan through his gurgles. Joel turns around, calmly raises his rifle, shoots him in the head, then keeps walking. He goes back inside, chest heaving, wiping blood splatter off his face with his wrist. The rest of them are still inside. No one came to Harold's defense or ran. Joel stares down the men, and based on the faces he sees, he’s not worried about any of them.

“Rest of ya got nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he reassures them. “long as ya leave her ‘lone.”

The men nod. Joel thinks about adding, and I’m not the only one you’ve gotta worry about, tempted to warn them that you know your way around a pistol and can handle yourself. One bullet, right between the eyes of that fucker. Joel thinks about it all the time. There’s something about his little sweet pea being a badass. And thank god, because he almost lost you.

“Now back to business.”

They discuss the rival crew they think sent two guys to Joel’s trailer, only for Joel and you to kill them. Joel doesn't think the crew is stupid enough to cause any more trouble, but agrees someone has to keep watch Just in case.

Joel almost reminds his men that he holds all the smuggling routes and contacts, just in case they’re concerned enough to pull something. But he doesn't need to say it. He dismisses them and grabs a duffle bag before collecting you from Carter. Carter asks what to do with Harold, and Joel says leave him for a while.

–

When the two of you get back to his trailer, Joel is ready to fuck out his anger. He sees himself in the mirror, chest heaving, veins about to pop, blood splatter on his hairline. God damnit, Harold. Joel showers because he doesn’t want any part of Harold getting close to you. Not even his blood.

You’re in the kitchen getting a glass of water when Joel walks out of the bathroom in just a towel. He crosses the kitchen, drops the towel, and pins you against the counter, pressing his hardness against your ass. He backs up enough to scrunch up your dress and growls, "good girl," when he finds you panty-less and wet. You knew. You were ready for it.

He grunts as he shoves himself into you, and he gives it to you good. "No one’s," he thrusts, "gonna," he grunts "touch ya." He plunges into you twice more, breathing heavily, then adds, “but me.” The power of his hips sends you to your toes with each thrust. He wraps an arm around you to hold you steady and watches over your shoulder as your tits jiggle with each punch of his hips. It doesn’t take you long to come. Then he curls his hands under your arms to hold your shoulders down from the front and begins to pulse with a low groan. He leans his head against yours and cradles it from the other side as he catches his breath, then asks, “you good?”

You nod, “mm-hmm,” and he pulls out, feeling better.

“Good.”

In the following days, things settle down in Joel’s group and get back to normal. The rival crew doesn't show up.

—--

One night, Joel leaves you inside the trailer while he sits out by the fire, as he often does. What you don't know is that he's not just sitting, drinking, and thinking. He’s working on something. He’s been making things for you. He hasn’t given you anything because nothing’s good enough, and it’s probably not going to get any better, but he keeps doing it. Sometimes he feels a little silly, but they’re things that will help both of you. Practical things.

He made a thigh holster for your gun. There was an old one without the straps in the weapons cache which is just a small room of chaos in the stash house, no telling what else is in there. He used part of a belt for the top strap and some black ribbon on the bottom, for the time being. It would be better than nothing, but he hasn't given it to you in case it wouldn’t work. Maybe it doesn't matter. As the weather changes, you'll probably need new clothes, anyway. Maybe even pants, he internally grumbles. Sweaters, too, so your chest won’t be exposed.

Tonight, Joel has another strap of leather with him, one that wasn't right for the holster. He also has a pot of water and a steel nail with a makeshift handle so he doesn’t burn himself. He heats up the tool and uses the hot nail head to emboss the strap with bold letters. He’s been working on it all week, and he’s only on ‘E.’ It’ll be first name only at this rate. You might not wanna wear it anyway, but it’s for your own good.

Joel’s almost lost you twice now. If there’s anything he can do to make someone think twice about touching or taking you, he’ll do it. Because Jackson, may he burn in hell, was right. Joel can’t have his eyes on you every single second. He's told you before: you tell’em you belong to Joel Miller. They’ll back right off when they hear it. But it doesn’t hurt for them to see it, too. And of course Joel wouldn't mind seeing it himself.

Joel’s fingers are too big for work this small. He accidentally makes the vertical line of the E slanted. Ah hell, this whole thing is no good anyway. You may never see it at this rate. But it feels good working with his hands, especially on something he thinks could help keep you safe and keep you his. You're a good girl, his good girl.

He should be thinking strategy, what’s going to happen with these warring crews, but that’s just not where his head’s at.

—--- YOU 🌸🫛—-----

You listen to the fire crackle and pop, longing for Joel to come to bed, longing for him to hold you, and more. He seems to stay outside longer than usual. When he adds a new log to the fire, you get impatient and decide to go out. You put on your shoes and go to the door, pushing it open just an inch. The rail to the stairs is blocking your view, but he's looking down at something. His jaw clenches in the firelight and he raises his eyebrows as he looks up. You slowly open the door, stepping out onto the stairs in your nightie. He puts something down on the ground, out of view.

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. As you approach, he takes a swig of whiskey and puts the flask down. His eyes are dark as he watches the flames. He makes room for you but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t.

"When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask.

His brows knit as he looks at you. For a few seconds, he concentrates on picking lint off the flannel and smoothing your nightgown.

“I dunno, sweet pea. Got some stuff to figure out.”

“Can I help?”

He shakes his head no. You put your arms around his neck and rest your cheek against his shoulder. Then you slowly roll your face against him so your lips touch his warm skin and your nose rests on top of his shoulder muscle. You close your eyes and stay like that for a moment. He doesn’t stop you. Then you dare to press your lips ever so slightly into his skin before pulling your face back to look at him, your lips disconnecting with a barely perceptible smack. Joel’s still looking at the fire, but he allows himself a subtle smile as he exhales a silent laugh, then cradles your head. “Go to bed, sweet pea.” He kisses your temple. “I’ll be there in a li’l bit.”

You take the flannel off and get in bed, still smelling like the fire. You think of getting naked, eager to feel Joel however he wants you. But maybe he likes undressing you, and it’s chillier than normal, too. You lay under the covers getting wet and tingly thinking about what he'll do when he comes to bed.

The fire is still blazing. There’s no sign of him putting it out. It doesn't seem like he's coming in soon, but you're too turned on to just go to sleep. You close your eyes, recalling the feeling of Joel’s warm skin on your lips by the fire. The way his eyes sparkled. The way he always opens his arms for you to get in his lap–that seat is always yours whenever you want it.

You think about how handsome he is. Even, or especially when he’s looking rough. All dirty and beat up when he got home that one night, muscles pumped up. His sexy stitches. You play a montage in your head of all the times you’ve heard him yell, seen him stomp around ordering guys to do this or that. How fiercely he protects you. Your lip creeps under your teeth and you close your eyes.

All the way turned on, you slide your hand down between your legs and imagine him walking in and ravaging you. You recall how urgently he fucked you at the kitchen table after he thought you almost died. You recall the time he fucked you naked in missionary and and marked your neck. You try to visualize the look in his eyes.

And then, when you’re just about to come, you remember that one morning. Those few seconds you kissed, when he kissed you back. He had pulled you into him before he knew what he was doing. You still savor that fleeting moment was grinding against you, his plush lips locked with yours. You can practically feel it. And that’s enough to put you over the edge. You turn your head into the pillow and brace for your orgasm.

—----- JOEL —------

You must think Joel can't hear your pretty little sounds when you touch yourself, but over the crackling of the fire he could swear he hears you moan into a pillow. His nose can't help but twitch into a little smile. He lets the fire die as he finishes the 'E', then he comes inside and washes off the smoke in the shower. By the time he gets in bed, you're asleep on your back with your left arm on your chest.

He carefully gets into the bed, spreading his weight out to not jostle the mattress. He's to your left, lying on his side, facing you. You’re so pretty and peaceful with your eyes closed and your sweet lips just slightly parted. An urge has been growing in his chest. He’s tried to push it away, but it's only grown, and he's afraid he can’t stop it happening.

He can’t bring himself to do it when you’re awake. He can’t let himself see how happy it makes you. The loss feels inevitable, and it gets closer and closer. The panic he felt when FEDRA had you on the ground. The devastation when it sounded like you were shot outside his own trailer. It gets worse every time. And last time, there was something new. Two losses flashed before his eyes. The loss of you (in the present and future), and the loss of what could have been–at least for a while, when he had the chance. The worst part is, he doesn't know which would hurt more.

His eyes fall on your mouth again.

If he does it now, it won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. If he does it now, maybe this urge will stop pulling at him every time you’re close. And then he can tell himself it never happened. Yeah, if he does it now, it can be like it never happened. Like he never let himself get that close, never gave you hope that he could be anything more than the terrible man he is.

His lip twitches as he watches you sleep. Then his breathing syncs with yours, and for a moment, everything fades away but you and him and the physical need that's tugging at him.

Joel leans over you, careful not to wake you, and he hovers over your pretty face. It's happening. His heart races as his face drifts toward yours, drawn to you like a magnet.

He closes his eyes, presses his lips gently into yours, and something rushes through his blood to every part of his body. Fuck. He's instantly soothed. With your lips still locked, he takes one breath through his nose then pulls away. He takes a deep breath, expecting the buzz to fade, expecting to hate himself. But you're so pretty and your lips were so soft. He almost chokes on his own saliva. He's quickly gotten hard.

Still fast asleep, you sigh and your nose twitches. You hum the prettiest little "mm," and roll over on your right, facing away from him like you normally sleep.

He pinches his eyes shut tight. He has to have you.

–

Joel curls himself around you, inhales your hair, and cups your breast. He presses his cock against you, hardening to full strength by now. He lets out a deep but quiet, "Mmm," not enough to wake you up. The exposed skin of your back and shoulder is so inviting, he's salivating. His arm slides from your breast down your nightie to your mound and you sigh. He lifts his head to see if you're awake as he aimlessly caresses you over your nightie. Your brow furrows with his light touch. Aw, sweet pea, he thinks to himself. You're just so cute. He presses a gentle kiss into your neck where it meets your shoulder, and he begins to ghost your clit through the fabric.

You sigh again, but still don't seem to wake up yet. He presses your mound so your hips tilt for him, and he pulls up the nightgown. He tests you with a finger and finds you wet but pulls back and pauses to add saliva to his tip. He teases your entrance with his cock, and you sigh "Mmm, Joel," as you begin to stir awake. He pushes the curve of his tip just slightly inside, then holds your breast.

He asks, “You 'wake?”

“Mmm,” you answer weakly.

"wake you up?" His cock prods at your tight, moist entrance, pushing in a little further.. He's itching to be inside you but he's taking his time, captivated by your peacefulness.

Your spine arches and you push back on him, taking another inch of his cock in with a moan as you stir awake. "Joel,” you sigh.

He presses his lips into your neck and lets them linger. You ask, "are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm," he answers, his voice deep and gravely. He groans softly as he pushes his cock into you. He takes a deep breath as your insides make room for him. It dawns on him that he's never taken the time to savor the moment your bodies are joined, but shit, it feels good. He didn't know it could feel so good like this. He’s feeling every groove of you in slow motion. Each centimeter of you greets him with a tight, warm hug. You push back on him with a moan, bringing your bodies together.

Oh, sweet pea. You want it so bad, and you take it so good.

—---YOU 🌸🫛—---

Joel’s cock spreads you apart and he buries his length in you slowly at first, palming your breasts. He pauses, all the way inside you, and removes your nightie so your naked bodies are flush. It feels like a dream. The way he kissed your shoulder, the way he’s fucking you right now with his whole body cradling yours, each thrust so deliberate, you can’t help but still wonder if he’s truly awake. If you're truly awake. He grunts softly each time he bottoms out. His sighs and moans are deep and gravely.

“Sweet pea,” he whispers against your neck, “ohhhh, you — ohh, you take it so good, baby.” His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs. He whispers in your ear, "God DAMN, youfeelsogood,” he inhales sharply, then sighs your name. Your nipples harden and you get goosebumps.

“Joel,” you whimper at his fingers on your clit. The fullness of his cock was enough, and the addition of his hand has you twitching already.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers, and his voice is so soothing, you relax again. He slows down his pace, his length sliding snugly into your warmth slow enough to feel the drag of his tip inside you. He touches your clit and you whimper again. He adjusts his hand to touch it less directly, pulsing his flattened fingers. That’s what you need. You moan.

“Good girl.”

You wanna ask him again if he’s really awake, but you don’t want to break the spell. You let the silence linger, peppered with moans and sighs from each of you. You’d love for this to last forever. You love every way he gives it to you, but the newness of this is something to savor. After a few minutes, sweat begins to bead and run between your bodies. You’re both breathing heavily. He gropes at your breasts and the entire front of your body, like he can’t get you close enough. His breathing gets ragged. You memorize the feel of his cock dragging thick and slow inside you. Then he adds his hand again. His thrusts become more powerful. “Come for me, I want you to– nnngh.”

“Joel,” you whine.

‘Ohh,” he moans.

“Joel, I’m–”

“Go ‘head, baby—ugghh—-you can do it”

Your upper back presses into his chest. He groans and holds you tight as you convulse against him and choke his cock with your climax. “Ohhhh, baby, mmmm.” He bottoms out and pulses inside you as you’re still coming. He sighs "ohhh," as he fills you up with his warm release. Your body hugs him more with every pulse of his cock.

When you’re both finished coming, your bodies are still joined. You relish the fullness of him inside you. You expect him to pull out any minute, but his breathing regulates with yours.

At some point, Joel's breath stutters abruptly, and you realize he's fallen asleep like this. Holding you close, body curled around you, cock gradually softening inside you. It isn't long until you drift off, too.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Please consider commenting and reblogging to show raider!Joel your love. Love you guys. I love your passion for him. Your engagement motivates me. <333

Friendly reminder that there will be no pregnancy in this fic, Joel was snipped pre outbreak.

----

@toxicfics for notifications, make sure your phone is set to enable push notifications from tumblr.

⚠️ Since so many people are saying tags aren't working, I may discontinue the tag list soon, sorry ⚠️

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#u r always so excited to get a Keanu gif so I made u this collage💐💐💐#raider my love 😍#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel

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notajinn · 2 years ago

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Top Games Played in 2022 - Number 5: Digimon Survive

5. Digimon Survive (Switch)

Digimon games have had a good track record lately thanks to the two Cyber Sleuth games, so I was definitely looking forward to Digimon Survive

...since it was announced four years ago in 2018.

It took so long to release that I thought it was cancelled more than once, but thankfully this visual novel/strategy RPG survived.

So was the wait worth it?

What I Like

Most of Digimon Survive is a visual novel covering a story of teenagers who end up in the Digital World. It’s similar to many seasons of the anime, but this take had older characters with a darker tone. I’ve read/written a lot of Digimon fanfiction in this tone, but it was really exciting to see this in official media. I think the writers did a good job making it feel darker but not edgy, which is a tough line to walk when adapting children’s media.

Besides the tone, I also found the story interesting but can’t really talk about it due to spoilers.

There’s a lot of small touches to the visual novel sections that make it smooth.

You can save and reload at any point and have multiple save slots, so you can easily go back if you make a decision by mistake.

The log that lets you view past text also lets you hear the voiced lines again (if the original line was voiced).

The dialogue options are also clearly colour-coded for which Alignment they work towards; Morality, Wrath, or Harmony.

You can put the dialogue on Skip, but it will stop when you encounter new dialogue. This made my second playthrough significantly easier since I didn’t have to worry about missing anything new but also got to save time on things I had seen.

You are told when your choice gained Affinity for a character, and you can check Affinity at any time from the menu. Your Affinity affects the character’s ability to provide backup, and how soon they unlock Digivolutions.

You also get completely different final third of the game + ending depending on which of these 3 Alignments you focus on, so your choices don’t feel meaningless. Alignments also affect your ability to recruit different Digimon types, so even before the branching paths you get payoff from your choices.

Different routes can give you different Digivolutions for many partner Digimon as well, including some surprising ones like unexpected Dark Digivolutions.

The balance of using equipment to boost stats vs add skills is a nice touch.

You can only get the Golden Route on your second or later playthrough. At first I didn’t like this, but after getting further into the Golden Route I think this was the right idea. It feels more impactful that characters are alive in this route after having dealt with the ramifications of their deaths in the other routes.

The character art is great and has a decent bit of variety to show different emotions. I also like the Digimon models in battle.

The choice of partner Digimon is mostly unique apart from the main character using Agumon. It’s also often a surprise to see what they will Digivolve into.

I also really like the main music theme from the title screen. I also appreciate that the title screen changes to reflect which characters you have recruited and alive in your most recent save.

What I Don’t Like

If the Visual Novel portions are the strength, the Strategy RPG sections are the weakness. They aren’t bad, but they are unremarkable.

Each Digimon has one unique skill normally, and it changes when they Digivolve. You can Digivolve at any point as long as you have the SP, and each level above Rookie takes more SP to maintain per turn. Wild Digimon don’t have this weakness, but they can’t Digivolve in battle. They also cannot de-Digivolve, and they require special items to Digivolve in the first place while Partner Digimon require story events or a certain level of Affinity.

There’s definitely effort put into this battle system, but it’s unfortunately not enough for me given I play a LOT of strategy RPGs. Most of the time I was trying to get through combat ASAP so I could get back to the story.

The recruiting system seems to be based on Shin Megami Tensei in which you have a conversation with the wild Digimon in an attempt to recruit it. And just like SMT, it can often be really unclear what answer will help you. Another issue is that even if you do successfully convince a Digimon to help you, you still only have a certain percent chance of being able to recruit them. With higher level Digimon, this is often below 25%. It’s really frustrating when you get them to the convincing point and fail to recruit them.

Also one minor thing is that the only way you gain EXP in battle is at the end, where it is distributed among your whole party. This is good in the sense it lets you easily catch up lower-level Digimon. However you don’t gain extra EXP by landing a killing blow, or based on actions the Digimon takes. It feels a little unfulfilling.

One somewhat spoiler thing that bothered me in the Visual Novel is that your choices don’t affect which characters will die outside of choosing the route you are on. For example, I got the Harmony route my first time based on my choices. Certain characters will die in the Harmony route, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I know it would probably take way too much effort to design character deaths by choices for 3 separate routes, but I feel like part of the advertising was “your decisions determine who survives”.

Digimon Survive also suffers from the standard Digimon game problem of feeling low budget. There’s occasional grammar issues. The voice acting is only Japanese, including in battles where there’s no subtitles. Plus there’s many scenes that don’t have voice acting but feel like they should, especially for a Visual Novel. Hell, some of the Digivolution scenes don’t have voice acting; I feel like those have been prioritized given how important they are to Digimon.

Final Thoughts

If you’re interested in a Digimon visual novel, I highly recommend this. But be aware it’s a bit unpolished, and don’t expect much from the battles.

#top games of 2022 #digimon survive

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thegloriousninjaturtle · 2 years ago

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🧡🐰💙Bunny Fics💙🐰🧡

Hey y'all! I'm still alive and I'm still writing, but I wanted to share some bunny fics I've been enjoying! Please go show them some love and I hope one of them fills all your Bunny needs ❣

I Can't Believe It's Not Butters! - LozisLaw (Because of course Lozzie is going to create a fantastic Marjie fic. This fic is one of the inspirations that made me what to write my fic. It takes you right into Butters' psyche as he figures out who Marjie is to him and of course there is tons of angst between Kenny and Marjie. What's a Marjie fic if there is no angst? Please go read!)

don't know where i'm going (i promise it won't be boring) - Aquaphobe (I love the plot and the concept! I'm assuming it's a bittersweet ending since it takes place three days before the world ends, but it's a slow burn and a hurt/comfort with Kenny and Butters at the forefront)

you’re just seventeen and all you wanna do is disappear - deakcore (I don't like chat fics, but this one is an exception XD It mainly focuses on style, but I love how everyone vibes in this one. Just friends being friends XD)

Bad Times at the La Casa Bonita - Icandigelvis (The first chapter out of the second is up, and although no bunny has happened, I'm honestly invested because of the plot. It's based on "Bad Times at the El Royale", so if you've seen that, you'll know what might happen. I have not and I'm on the edge of my seat XD)

Take Us Alive - nekodairy (The fic is based on "It" and I really like how the author adapted it to fit the South Park atmosphere. I love the interaction between the characters and I also love how they take the concept of "It" and made it their own story.)

Bite Me - AHeckenGoodDeviant (Again, fantastic concept, and I love the depth and story behind each character. I'm highly invested in the plot and our bunny boys are met with immense hurt (idk if there is comfort) but there is a hell of a lot of angst. Takes place during a zombie apocalypse and the creativity with how the characters interact with their environment really helps paint a great picture of what conditions people live in now)

(NFSW) Saturday Waffles - LozisLaw (Another LozisLaw recommendation? Color everyone surprised XD She wrote this as a gift for me and it's beautiful. Angst, tension, fluff, hope, the whole nine yards. This one gets pretty dirty so...😏)

May Nothing But Happiness Come Through Your Door - boy-thighs (sop) (This is the epitome of Bunny comfort fics. It's written so well that I honestly think this could be its own canon episode in the SP universe. Kenny tries to make amends with Butters for ruining his birthday and shenanigans ensue from there. Beautiful and absolutely hilarious story!)

(NFSW) Barbie - skr3ex (Butters goes to a male strip club and ends up getting more than he bargained for. It's filthy and smutty so if you need something steamy, here it is. Oh, and bonus: There is some plot to it and that's always a plus in my book XD)

(NFSW) Posessive, Passive & Pensive. - fanbandoms (Again, it's smutty, smutty, smutty, but the plot and the character interactions are really something to read. This is a porn with plot, with emphasis on the first P, and the drama that happens, especially in the first chapter was *chef's kiss*. I hope this one gets finished soon!)

Very Good Bad Thing - UniqueMemoria (A classic mysy/chaos fic and just makes me smile and feel good when I read it. The plot is quite intriguing and I love the addition of the OC the author adds! The author also draws super cute and amazing art so please check them out on insta and tumblr <3)

(NFSW) Twenty Dollars and a Stain on the Couch - Cheylouwho, valzilla (Before diving into this one, please read the tags and archive warnings as this does delve into sensitive topics. That said, I'm in love with this one and jump out of my seat when I see it updated. Every pairing and character has a plot of its own and is connected in an intricate web of crime drama that I look forward to when the characters' storylines intersect with one another. This fills my Law and Order heart with the plot of this fic and god damn do I freaking love all the drama that happens in it! Highly recommend this one!)

#sp bunny #bunnysp #south park #kenny mccormick #butters stotch #sp kenny #sp butters #butters x kenny #kenny x butters #south park bunny #bunny fics #There are more fics #but I'll hopefully make another post in the future!#please give these people some love!

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volkswagonblues · 4 years ago

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a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks.

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim)

(note: #2: I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15.

From My Asakusa:

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master)

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine.

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this:

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology.

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

#Avatar The Last Airbender #zukka #atla fic #my fic #fire nation

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honouredsatoru · 4 years ago

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JJK Characters x You on a date

notes : I tried including Gojo's love for Digimon since I also grew up watching Digimon and loving the anime with all of my heart, also because Gojo's seiyuu, both Japanese and English versions, voiced for characters in Digimon, so I wanna pay homage to the both of them. other than that, I also included my love for arts and history, something I tried to incorporate into my writing, just to make it like.. lilith's style, ya know?

extra notes : also I wrote megumi for Elli, just because haha.

warnings : slight cussing. not proofread lol. other than that, none. 100% fluff!

characters : gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara, nanami kento, itadori yuji.

Gojo Satoru - Arcades, vintage shops, especially collectors, especially Digimon, comic book/manga stores.

[Your name]! [Your name!]! Look, look! It's the Digimon Adventure V-Tamer 01 series! All 9 of them! Let's get in!"

"Ahh hold on. Towu! We're supposed to visit the cat cafe, you promised that you would go with me and take pictures with the cat hairband on! And I'm starving!"

You jokingly scowled at him, tapping your Doc Martens feet on the ground, arms folding.

"Fucking adorable. Let me see if I can tease her more, hah." A smirk soon appeared on this blue-eyed darling of yours.

"Let me get the manga and I promise, I'll go to this cat cafe with you, baby. Hm?"

"Oh alright."

"I love you, sweetheart. I know how much you wanted to go there but the manga. I- ahaaaa"

He started pouting as he kept pointing in the direction of the Digimon manga by the window. You quickly opened your camera, taking pictures of him sulking, emitting a soft giggle that actually made his heart squeezed with joy.

He presses his lips against your forehead, thumb circling your cheek, gently squishing them before opening the door, yanking you into the comic book store with him. You vowed to hide the comic books once he goes on a mission. After all, he made you wait a month before the two of you finally get to go to this cafe you always wanted to visit.

"Baby, I can read what you're thinking. Your face shows it too. Hehe. Watch me hide your panties."

Taking in a few gulps of air to deepen your breath, you opened your eyes, to meet the love of your life's own eyes, snickering at you, his large hands on the crown of your head before ruffling your already messy hair. There is no way you can stay mad at this man, as childish as he is, you know he loves you and deep down? He knows you love him too.

Itadori Yuji - Thrift stores, internet cafes to play online games with you, cinemas.

"Candy! [Your name] love! Don't! Make! Me! Ahhh cover up for me! I am gonna lose! I am gonna-"

He turns around to face you with soft eyes, his eyebrows slightly droopy before looking back at the computer, taking in the seconds in his head to register the fact that he lost in his mission with you in Inferno.

"Awww sorry babe. I mean.. you just started playing CSGO, so tell me, why- again- damn it- you wanna- AH. Damn it! Throw the fucking grenade! I mean why you wanna play this game, you need more practice- FUCK YOU."

Gentle chuckles were heard, emitted from his throat, his soft, peach toned lips landed on your cheek repeatedly as he rubbed soothing circles around your back.

"Breathe, bunny baby. You're so feisty whenever you start having online matches. Breathe. I love you, and I don't want you to get your blood pressure rising because of these dumbos, hm?"

Your lips curl into a faint and appreciative smile, nodding while your eyes are glued to the screen, ignoring the fading laughs and snickers from the people acknowledging your mini rage.

"I love you too. If I win, I'm getting us boba and chicken nuggets. So let me fight them, okie?"

"Yes ma'am!"

Megumi - Museums, art galleries, photo exhibitions, aesthetic cafes.

"Oh Gumi bear, look at that! That is the Raft of Medusa, it was done by Thèodore Géricault, he himself interviewed two survivors from the shipwreck."

He looks over your eyes that shine with excitement and pure happiness.

"Art"

Was what he thought every time he laid his sight onto you. God knows that he falls in love with you every single time he is blessed with your presence. Resting his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, inhaling the scent of mixed berries and wild roses, he swore he heard his heartbeat increasing every two seconds in a span of one minute.

"Oh really? What do you think this painting is all about?"

Glancing at him before returning to the painting, you puffed your cheeks, pressing your lips together with your index finger curled on your chin and your thumb under it.

"Lord, she is so cute whenever she does that. Can I kiss her? Should I? No wait, she's trying to tell me her own interpretation of this painting. To me. Oh wow. I'm gonna kiss her... later. I can't interrupt her." That is all he could think of. You. He is deeply, madly, beautifully in love with you.

"In my opinion, it tells me the ways of how men, or human beings, seek out in order to survive. When we are at the brink of desperation, insanity, happiness, greed, lust, desire, wrath, grief, don't we all do things unimaginable to help us go through the day? They even resolved to cannibalism. I think even I would commit to that if I was in an extremely dire situation."

You looked at him, a wide smile on your face, emitting a soft giggle that entered his right ear and stayed within the chambers of his mind. He closed the spaces between the both of you, sealing his lips onto yours, with the intention of making this very moment last a little longer heavy within his heart.

"Art."

Was what you thought of him.

Nanami Kento - Theatres, historical museums, fine dining restaurants.

You squealed, lightly clapping your hands as you ran to a block of marble, your foot tapping against the floor. He chuckles, hands in his pocket, taking fast strides towards you.

"Namnam! Look look! That's the Parthenon Sculptures! It was founded in hm... Athens, yes! If I am not mistaken, around 438 to 432 BC. These sculptures decorated the insides of the Parthenon, it is a temple located at the fortress of the Athenian Acropolis. It is said that this temple was built to appreciate and worship the Goddess Athena, she was the deity worship in Athens. Also, ah ah! Did you know that the word parthénos means "maiden", "girl" or ‘virgin"? And I-"

You look at him, your magnificent lover wearing a dark brown trench coat, with ecru brown trousers and a black turtleneck tucked in, his neck layered with white gold necklaces. Your hand unconsciously scratches your sideburns, giggling at the side of his stoic expression, eyes piercing yours beneath that yellow-green glasses he constantly has on his chiseled face.

"Oh... I am sorry... I didn't mean to bore you. I was just so excited because you know me! I love anything that is related to ancient greek history and mythology. I can't seem to get enough of it and it is absolut-

"I'm not bored, [your name]. I was just paying attention to every single word that pretty lips of yours uttered. It's magnificent that you knew all of this. It shows just how smart, curious, bright your mind and soul is. And darling?"

"Huh?"

"I am lucky to be blessed with someone like you. With Gojo constantly following me, there is no way I can read the books I bought for myself. However, having you around, breaking the ice with your random history tib bits, I feel like I am reading the pages, savouring each word, alphabet, sentence, thus expanding my quest and love for knowledge."

You looked down. Normally, you're not the type to tear up this easily but seeing how this man, this angel of a man, appreciates the little things you loved and adored, you can't help but let the waterworks out. You lifted your head up to meet his gaze, the tip of your nose slightly stuffy. You grabbed his arms, clinging onto him, the difference of height and size makes it sweet to the eyes of strangers surrounding you both.

"Oh Namnam. Thank you so much. This means the world to me. Shall we... go and see the best of Ramesses the Great? I've loads to tell you!"

Nobara - Shopping malls, ferry rides, beach dates, parks with cherry blossoms.

"Baby... tell me, have you ever seen anything as joyous as the ocean?"

You two stood by the seashore, fingers intertwined, your head resting on her shoulders, the sound of the seas splashing against the rocks and the warmth around your foot, it tingled but it feels good at the same time.

"I don't want this moment to end, [your name]."

"Why is that, pretty one?"

A faint sigh leaves her lips, you feeling her body loosen up.

"I just.. school is sort of stressful so my time spent with you liberates me from the pressure, fatigue, and image of curses embedded in my brain. Walking with you... through this airy womb of skies and clouds, don't you know it makes me happy?"

You leaned closer, pressing a soft peck on her cheeks, earning yourself a pair of scarlet cheeks with a gorgeous smile from the one next to you. You turned yourself to face her, hands on her shoulders, bringing her body closer to yours.

"Whenever and wherever you need me, I will be there. I might not be perfect, but I am gonna do my best to be the one you can always count on."

You pressed a kiss on her left cheek.

"I love you."

A kiss on her right cheek.

"I love you."

A kiss to the lips of the woman whom you shared your entire universe with.

"To the moon and back, I love you, Kugisaki Nobara."

The end.

tags : @tojisveryown @sookyshima @megumifushi @sixeyesgojo @sirthisisa-wendys @sasso-oda @fushigurocockslut @nkogneatho @kotarousgf @noritoshiikamo

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cabensonsgirly · 3 years ago

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👼Lay All Your Love On Me (Mildred Ratched) [NSFW]👼

Mildred Ratched x fem!reader

👼Part 7 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak (you did help so shut up)

👼Wordcount: 3173👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Smut, pregnancy, cunnilingus, strap-on, lesbian magic, mentions of vomit, cum, some other stuff probably👼

👼“Have you got our uniform pressed and hanging up for tomorrow, darling?” Mildred asks as she sits at the vanity while you brush her flaming hair, careful with each pull of the brush so that you don’t tug her hair too hard or scrape the back of her neck with the bristles. “Of course, Millie. It’s one of the first things I do after we’ve changed when we get home. I have also made sure our shoes are clean and polished too, not a single speck of dirt on them, just how you like it.”👼

You’d been a nurse at Lucia for just over six months, you’d applied to work there upon hearing that there was a new Head Nurse, one Mildred Ratched. She was fierce and an excellent mentor to you, if it weren’t for her, you doubted that you would have survived the job because Nurse Bucket certainly wasn’t helpful. In saying that, it probably helped that you and Mildred were engaging in sex whenever she wanted to.

Even if you weren’t in the mood, she would pull you into an empty room when no one is looking and force you to your knees before hitching her skirt up so you could put your mouth to good work. She was possessive and controlling over every aspect of your life and you couldn’t care less, you were addicted to her and couldn’t get enough. So when she would pull you into a room, you no longer protested, she no longer had to backhand you to get you to kneel for her, she no longer hand to kick you onto your back and stand on your chest until you admitted that you wanted her just as much as she wants you. She still threatened you, each one falling from her poison coated lips with such ease that only someone skilled in the art of assassination would know to be weary of.

“You’re lucky I enjoy your mouth so much or else I’d have you admitted for lesbianism and treated just like the rest.” She would breathe out, her hands gripping your hair with such ferocity you worried that chunks would be removed. Your tongue would lap languidly at her, unable to stop the moans escaping you at her taste. “Fuck- If you weren’t a nurse, I’d keep you strapped down for myself, tell everyone that- ah – that you’re too dangerous.”

Your hands would grip her thighs, moving one of her legs to rest over your shoulder your other hand slid closer to her centre until you were brushing her clit lightly with her thumb. After that it wouldn’t take long for Mildred to tip over, the image of you on your knees with your head between her legs becoming more and more dishevelled the more she ground herself into your face, coating your chin and mouth with her slick as she came.

Mildred would push you away so she could tidy herself up before moving closer to you, grasping your jaw and pulling you up to capture lips in a searing kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips. Her tongue would slip into your mouth and glide over your own, causing you to groan at the sensation before she’d pull back, tugging roughly at your bottom lip with your teeth as she does so. “You might want to reapply your lipstick and tidy yourself up before you sort the medication out for the patients. You look like you’ve just been fucked.” She’d swipe her thumb over your bottom lip to gather up some of her slick before licking it off, dragging her eyes down your body then leaving.

The quick moments in empty rooms and storage closets soon turned into you spending nights at the hotel in her room, then into her house she purchased until you had moved in with her, the two of you leaving for work together in the morning and returning home together in the evening.

“Have you got our uniform pressed and hanging up for tomorrow, darling?” Mildred asks as she sits at the vanity while you brush her flaming hair, careful with each pull of the brush so that you don’t tug her hair too hard or scrape the back of her neck with the bristles. “Of course, Millie. It’s one of the first things I do after we’ve changed when we get home. I have also made sure our shoes are clean and polished too, not a single speck of dirt on them, just how you like it.”

Mildred smiles softly in the mirror as she looks at you, her hand reaching behind her to pull you closer so she can press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “You’re such a good girl for me. You’d make a good mother too, so attentive and caring and focused on making sure the house is tidy and that dinner is ready.” You blush deeply and dip your head to hide your blush from your partner “Oh I- I don’t know about that, Millie” you whisper shyly. She clicks her tongue in a gentle scold, turning in her seat to face you “my darling girl, in all the time I have known you, have I ever been wrong?” She stands up, cupping your cheek with her hand as she brushes her thumb against it lightly “answer me, darling.”

You lean into her touch, your eyes fluttering shut as she continues caressing your cheek “no- no, you’ve never been wrong, Millie.” Mildred hums softly in response, leaning in her lips ghost over yours teasingly as she whispers “then let me make you a mother, darling girl… Let me fuck a baby into you… You’ll look so pretty with a baby bump…” She runs her tongue lightly over your bottom lip, drawing a soft gasp from you “please, Millie” you breathe out “please make me a mother, Nurse Ratched.” She takes you by the hand and leads you over to the bed before pushing you down onto it “pull that slip up, baby, and spread your legs so I can see your pretty pussy.”

You move back until your in the centre of the bed before pulling your night slip up past your hips to expose yourself to Mildred, shivering as the cool air hits your exposed skin. “How- How’s it- it going to work, Nurse Ratched?” She pulls her hair over her shoulder, stroking it absentmindedly as she moves over to you, her eyes never leaving your own. “I have my ways, darling girl. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Just focus on being a mother, and how good it’s going to feel as I fuck you.”

Mildred climbs onto the bed and balances herself over you, her hand resting on the bed by your head while the other runs slowly up your inner thigh. She dips her head to place open mouth kisses on your neck, occasionally latching onto you to suck deep marks into your delicate skin. The hand between your leg brushes lightly over your bud, the pressure disappearing whenever your hips bucked up before being harder as your hips fall back against the bed. Mildred grazed her teeth against the now tender spot, enjoying the way you whimpered underneath her. “Nurse- Nurse Ratched, please.”

She shifts so that she can grind against you, pulling a surprised gasp from you upon feeling the phallic object between her legs. You look up at the red-head with darkened eyes and parted lips “what- what is” a moan cuts you off as she rocks harder into you, your hips bucking up as you grind back against her “what is it?” She chuckles lowly and leans down to capture your lips in a brief kiss “it’s how I’m going to get a baby into you. You’re going to take your Nurse’s cock like a good little patient, aren’t you?” You nodded your head dumbly “yes- yes, Nurse Ratched.”

Mildred flips you onto your stomach before pulling you up so that your ass is raised, she leans down and runs her tongue slowly through you

Mildred flips you onto your stomach before pulling you up so that your ass is raised, she leans down and runs her tongue slowly through you, letting out a pleased noise at your taste. “Delicious.” She gets onto her knees and uses two fingers to spread your lips, her other hand lining the tip of the strap up before easing it into your eagerly awaiting cunt.

She rested her hands on your hips before fucking you with vigour, a pleased grin settling on her face when you push back into her after each thrust. You felt the walls of your pussy spasm around her as she fucked you deeper, each thrust managing to hit that sweet spot within you, drawing little moans from you with each hit. Mildred dug her nails into you hard enough that you knew there would be crescent shaped marks in their absence. Your moans soon became pathetic little whines and swear words gasped out whenever Mildred’s thrust was particularly rough.

Mildred moved a hand to wrap around you to pull you up against her so that your back was flush against her front, her hand snaking up to wrap around your throat, her breath hot against your ear. “Touch yourself for me, sweet girl. I want you to cum around your Nurse’s cock as she fucks a baby into that pretty little cunt of yours.” You shudder against her in pleasure, moving a hand down your stomach to between your legs where you rub your clit lightly with two of your fingers, unable to stop the loud moan that falls from your lips.

“Oh… Oh Nurse- Fuck” she squeezes the sides of your throat harder, enjoying the way you're bouncing on her cock as she fucks you. Mildred’s lips connect with the side of your neck as she pressed sloppy kisses against it before she sucks your soft skin into her mouth, her thrusts becoming more uneven as she felt herself get closer to her high. She runs her tongue against the spot, a shaky mewl escaping you. “If only you could see how good you look taking me. How good you look being fucked with my cock.” She tugs at your earlobe gently with her teeth before moaning obscenely in your ear “you going to cum all over your Nurse’s cock, sweet girl?”

You let out a whine, only just registering how the room is filled by the sounds of skin on skin and the wetness of your cunt as Mildred fucks into you. “Please” you beg desperately, your pussy clenching around her cock as the coil tightens within you, struggling to keep the wave at bay until Mildred lets you go. She tightens her grip on your neck further “cum for me, sweet girl.” The combination of the lack of air and her relentless pace makes the wave crash down aggressively, a broken cry of ecstasy tearing itself from your throat.

Mildred lets go of your neck then pushes you down into the duvet, her hand firm between your shoulder blades as she continues, a quiet groan falling from her lush lips as she cums, a low whine escapes you as you feel the warmth spread inside you. She continues thrusting into you almost lazily, making sure you get every last drop “such a good little patient for me” she whispers before pulling out of you carefully, groaning at the sight of your cunt dripping with a mix of yours and her cum. “I’ll clean you up, sweet girl, just stay there.” You hum in response, sinking into the duvet and letting your eyes drift shut.

Mildred goes to the adjoining bathroom and removes the modified toy so she can wash it before putting it away. She grabs a cloth and wets it with warm water then heads back out to where you’re laying on the bed “just a warm cloth, baby. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable while we sleep.” You nod your head slightly, gasping at the sensation of the cloth between your legs. Once done Mildred tosses the cloth in the wash basket before moving the duvet to cover you, climbing in she pulls you close to her so that your head is resting against her chest, the steady beating of her heart lulling you to sleep.

The longer the pregnancy went on the harder it was for you to hide your bump, the classic signs of pregnancy had decided to rear their ugly head at the most inopportune times possible, mainly while you were helping patients at the hospital; you’d lost count of how many times you had to excuse yourself and rush to throw up in the nearest sink.

“Nurse Yln? You have been rushing to be sick quite frequently, care to tell me what is going on? Are you pregnant? Does Nurse Ratched know how much of a sl-“

“I would choose my next words very carefully, Nurse Bucket.” Mildred cuts in as she stands just in front of you defensively. “Or what, Mildred? You’ll throw another hissyfit over how I ate a peach?” Nurse Bucket snorts as she continues about her duties “She’s a harlot and you know it.”

“I’m not a-“ Mildred cuts you off with a harsh grip on your wrist, you swore you could hear it crack under the pressure, “she is not a harlot except for when we’re at home. She is going to give birth here, whether you like it or not, Nurse Bucket.”

You clench your jaw hard at how tight Millie’s grasping your wrist. You want to tell her to loosen up but judging by the fire in her eyes, all that would happen is you would get backhanded. Your eyes dart between her and Nurse Bucket. “Do- do I get a say in this Mill- Nurse Ratched? It’s- it’s my baby after all.”

Mildred turns to you with a look of disbelief in her eyes, then anger, a low chuckle escaping her. “Your baby? Pardon me? It is my baby, and if you’d rather be by yourself from now on, you can give birth at home, by yourself. Oh wait… It’s my house too. I figured you’d enjoy the confinements of this establishment, but you’re ever the greedy one, aren’t you? Nothing is ever good enough for you.”

Your face flushes and you immediately avert your gaze, suddenly finding the pattern of the flooring interesting. “Ye- Yes, Nurse Ratched. I am greedy. I’m- I’m sorry, Nurse Ratched.” You hear Nurse Bucket start laughing, clearly amused by the scene that has unfolded in front of her. Your head darts up to stare at her, glaring at her as you open your mouth to speak but upon feeling Mildred dig her nails into the tender skin of your wrist you close your mouth.

“I don’t see how this situation is amusing, Nurse Bucket. It’s evident that Yn is experiencing a lapse in… judgement so she will need to be admitted earlier than anticipated. I hope you finish whatever you’re busy wasting your time with, while I go deal to this more pressing matter.”

“I-“ you look at Mildred, surprise and shock evident in your eyes, “but it’s- I’m not even ready to give birth yet! Why would I want to spend the rest of my time here?” You protectively run a hand over your baby bump, the pain of the kicks the baby had been giving you due to stress hardly bearable. Nurse Bucket laughs at the two of you before leaving you to discuss this alone. “Why do I need to be locked up here? Yes, I want to give birth in a hospital but I’m not ready yet!”

Mildred waits until the door is shut behind Nurse Bucket before she turns to face you properly. “You are clearly not in a fit state of mind to look after yourself. Even the child knows this because you have been in agony recently. And quite frankly, I don’t care about whether or not you are ready. I am the Head Nurse here, and you are nothing. If I say you need to be admitted, you will be admitted.”

You pull yourself away from her grip, a sound of disbelief leaving your lips. “In agony? Seriously? You are the one making me angry, Mildred! First you embarrass me in front of yourself, then in front of Gwendolyn, my parents, and now a colleague!? I get that you’re into humiliation, but you’re taking it a little far, don’t you think?” You begin pacing back and forth to keep your emotions and pain at bay, aware Mildred was going to be using everything against you now. “I’m not Head Nurse, no, but I’m not about to give birth!”

Mildred lets out a sigh, clasping her hands together in front of her at her waist as she watches you closely. “Are you quite finished with your little tantrum? Fine, I won’t admit you. But you will be expected to spend the day here while I work, up until you are expected to give birth. We will return home together in the evenings, and we will arrive together in the mornings. After this little stunt you pulled, I don’t trust you on your own.”

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face her, thankful that she wouldn’t admit you but saddened she didn’t trust you. You try your best to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, putting a hand on your bump where the baby just kicked particularly hard. “I- I can’t believe this- whatever.” Mildred moves close to you, a hand reaching out to cup your cheek tenderly, her thumb brushing against it. “I- I only want what’s best for you and- and our baby.”

She draws in a shaky breath, part of her pretending and hoping that you’ll believe her, the other part of her genuinely concerned for your well-being. “I don’t know what I would do if- if something happened and I weren’t there to help.” She closes her eyes and grimaces at the thought. You instinctively lean into her touch, “I’m sorry, Millie. I know this is the first time for both of us. I’m just sad you don’t trust me enough to do anything by myself, but you’re worried, I understand.”

Grabbing her hand you replace it with your own against your bump, letting Mildred feel how active the baby is. Mildred opens her eyes to reveal they are glistening with unshed tears. A surprised gasp falls from her lips when she feels the baby move, a shy smile gracing her face. “Wow. I- I can’t believe they’re so- so energetic already.” She looks at you then back at the bump “oh my love… Oh our baby is…” She lets out a bit of a sob, using her free hand to wipe away a stray tear, “I- I didn’t mean what I said. I was just- I’m just- just scared.” She ends quietly, her gaze not moving from her hand resting on your bump.

You nod, “someone doesn’t like their mommies fighting. Mildred, hey…” you cup both her cheeks, smiling at the way her other hand reaches to hold your baby bump as well. You kiss the corner of her mouth softly “it’s okay, I’m scared too. But we can do this. With- with your expertise as a Nurse, having been doing this for much longer than I have, there’s nothing we can’t do, okay? I love you.”

#Mildred Ratched #Mildred Ratched imagine #Mildred Ratched x reader #Sarah Paulson #Sarah Paulson imagine #Sarah Paulson x reader #Ratched #Ratched imagine

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lordeemailarchive · 3 years ago

Text

A FINGER POINTING AT THE MOON

(24/05/2022) (Solar Institute Bulletin No. 14) (From Leeds)

5 minutes post show, taking it all off

Bonjourrrrrrrr to all the cuties in my e address book!!!!!!! It’s been two weeks and two days since the final curtain fell in the U.S. Feels both like ages ago and yesterday. I lay around in Santa Barbara for a few days after everyone went back, complete solitude feeling bizarro after five weeks of bus life, walking along the beach deep in thought about you. I can’t get over how generous and loving and supportive an audience you were each night. I’ve honestly never had such a good touring experience. I met Annie-B for a drink in New York and she kept talking about what she called the chanting, all of you singing every word of every song with me, it isn’t normal, all my colleagues whose first tour with us it is are in disbelief like, they really know EVERY word. You do. I’m so lucky to have you. Thankyou for coming — I’ll come again as soon as you’ll have me.

Some of Lauren’s pics from the last couple days — our first outdoor SP show 🌙😮‍💨

In the break, my priority was to rest. Two nasty sicknesses in two weeks and a gross wet cough hanging around, had to dry it out, get better for you. I didn’t fully rest, if I’m honest, there’s a fire lit under me at the moment, did some secret things in NY and LA for a week or so before getting to London last week. I get fucked by the jet lag coming this way every time, so I decided to be nice to myself for a change and fly a week early. I got in at midday, sun shining, arrived at the hotel feeling nauseous and corpse-adjacent, but I grabbed a sugar free Red Bull (it makes no sense to me that caffeine-wise I cannot drink so much as a strong black tea yet a RB gives me jitterless wings, deeply off brand but leaning in) and got on the move, walking fast, music in my ears, feeling this fizz of excitement growing being back in London finally after 3 (!!) years. I honestly had one of the best afternoons I’ve had all year, just walking with music loud in my headphones, the same thing I’ve been doing since I was a teen, still feeling as good as it ever did. Spent days like this, blissing out on the very specific UK energy of people in pubs, people playing football or sprawling out in the parks, a boy flying past me on a bike screaming “YASS METHOD ACTING” at dusk on a Wednesday, smoked mackerel salad at Cafe Deco. So happy to be stepping over British gobs of spit once more.

Jetlagged but joyful in london, a little magic trip out of town, before that 3 days in NY, bought this Balenciaga shirt what do u think

Me in Paris…. The ORIGINAL ‘can u reach me?’ queen

I’m feeling really good, really open. Possibility all around. Puuuumped for Europe. Can’t believe I’ll be seeing you all again, so special coming to your cities, each one so different and offering us so much in the way of food, art, language. Gonna try to sightsee as much as I can.I think you’re gonna fall in love with Marlon. If you haven’t heard his music before, start with Come To Me, Nobody Gets What They Want Anymore, his new song My Boy, Dark Child, and Vampire Again. Few tickets left for these shows.

THE RUMOURS ARE TRUE…………….IN VERY EXCITING NEWS WE ARE COMING TO MEXICO IN OCTOBER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Our shows are in Mexico City, Guadalajara and Monterrey, and it would mean the world to me if you came!!! I adore playing in Mexico, and I’m so happy this is happening…. Think I’m gonna add some special mx-only setlist moments… watch this space… The tickets go onsale Monday May 30 at 11am your time, and the presale code is strangeairlines Reading Fleur Jaeggy’s Sweet Days Of Discipline, Ernaux’s A Girl’s Story, Saunders’ A Swim In a Pond In the Rain, which I bought when it came out and didn’t get round to but a friend is currently reading it and inspired me to get it out. Lauren gave me Shine Bright: A Very Personal History of Black Women in Pop by Danyel Smith which I’m hyped to hit next. VERY happy that Elif Batuman has released Either/Or, the follow-up to The Idiot, which you may remember me recommending previously. Suitcase is basically full of books at this point. I’m loving Kendrick. I cannot get over the most popular and influential artist in modern music displaying a working nervous system, admitting mistakes, trying to process intergenerational trauma and prejudice. I love the way the album opens, the pace and heat of the first few songs, and later Count Me Out, the build and strings in Auntie Diaries … special.

Checking in on my SCsWWtS… Look at Katia’s sunshine caprese, and Connor’s focaccia. SP as food is really a zone of great delight to me— always send these to Ophelia.

Check out Alexander’s server who is a DEAD RINGER FOR ME?????

Love seeing Seth’s merch on the beach — please send me pics of merch in nature this summer, I really love seeing it. Should add that i forgot to pack a cap on this trip and am wearing this cap every fucking day, kind of embarrassing, if you have an old cap you are parting with and think i’d like send me an email hahaha

Ash’s gorgeous tattoo, and a sliver of her Melo one above.

DEVON CAME TO ELEVEN SHOWS ON THE U.S. RUN, THAT MUST BE SOME KIND OF RECORD, THANKYOU DEVON I AM NOT WORTHY!!! Alright, that’s all for now….. Leaving you with a paragraph from this brilliant New Yorker essay on parenting by Jia that’s staying with me: “The work demanded creativity and intuition: spending a day alone with my infant daughter reminded me of shepherding a friend through a first-time acid trip, continually gauging whether she needed to look at a flower, or listen to music, or sob for ten minutes, or be alone in the dark.” Can’t wait to be shepherding each other again in a few days. Loving you, always, forever, L xxxxxxx

(source: received this email)

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Is it weird that your article on the Grand Guignol (sp?) made me think of that Peter Chushing quote about how, he doesn't think of the films he's famous for as horror, but rather as fantasy, and that he tends to see crime and war movies as more deserving of the moniker?

Strangely, I wasn't aware of this before, so I'm pasting some of the quotes he's had to say on this below so others can read them in full as well:

“It isn’t that I object to it. I just feel it’s the wrong adjective as applied to the films I do. Because horror to me is, say, a film like The Godfather. Or anything to do with war, which is real and can happen, and unfortunately, no doubt, will happen again some time. But the films that dear Christopher Lee and I do are really fantasy. And I think fantasy is a better adjective to use. I don’t object to the term horror, it’s just the wrong adjective!”

“I don’t really care for the adjective “horror”. I think the films are fantasy as much as anything. Horror is concentration camps, war, murder, real things. It’s car accidents and plane crashes.”

[regarding the fan mail he was getting] “What they say in their letters is that the horror films of today, they repel you and you’re sickened. And the Hammer ones that we did make you shiver and shake and cuddle each other to feel comforted, but they never repelled.

And that is, I think, frightfully interesting coming from young people who must be so immune now to seeing these terrible things on the news – football fights and Ireland and South Africa – it’s just dreadful, isn’t it. One has become so used to that as part of everyday life that I think watching a Dracula picture made 25 years ago must be rather like watching Noddy in Toyland.”

I think this is an interesting example of how sometimes opposite truths can exist at the same time. I have questioned myself quite a bit on just how much "horror" does a fantasy narrative need to have before it changes it's genre label from "fantasy" to "horror". And I've come to learn a lot recently just how fluid, ambiguous and debatable the very concept of "genre" is and how it's hardly even consistent within itself globally or historically.

On one hand, obviously the films Mr Cushing's been a part of are called horror films because they are part of the horror genre as it's been defined, and I don't think anyone's going to stop calling Dracula a horror story anytime soon, and of course horror and fantasy are not mutually exclusives. A horror story doesn't stop being a horror story just because you are not affected by what it's depicting, just as a comedy doesn't stop being a comedy because you don't find it funny. Mary and Max and Texas Chainsaw Massacre are two incredibly different movies that both shook me deeply on a first watch, and Mary and Max's material affected me much more deeply, but that doesn't mean I'm going to call it a horror film even if it did horrify me much more than Texas Chainsaw (Mary and Max is a genuinely incredible film, to be clear, but I never want to see it again)

But on the other hand, horror is a catch-all label that frays and tears at the seams the more you look at it, and he's right that the label in itself is just an adjective often tacked to pretty straightforward fantasy stories that happen to revolve around monsters and murderers and whatnot. And he's absolutely right that there's a world of difference between horror in fiction through fantasy, and horror in fiction through depictions of real, stark things we can call "horrors", and that this separation is incredibly important.

I'm thinking back to Bogleech's review of It: Chapter Two where he briefly touched on why the film's usage of homophobia for a scare was crude and misguided and tonally at odds with what the rest of the film, and the horror genre, strives for:

Some people with innocent enough intention will say that the shock and horror of the sequence is a good thing; that the audience should be disgusted by what they see happen here, which is certainly true. They might also point out that being horrified is exactly what you pay for when you go to see a horror movie, and that the scene gives context to the nature of a town possessed by pure evil.

There is, however, a very big difference between a spooky, imaginary boogiemonster and a regular, realistic hate crime. The boogiemonster is an entertaining, exciting kind of horror because it isn't real. The hate crime is something that could really happen to someone walking in and out of that same movie theater that same night, which is not the fun, entertaining or cool kind of scary. Killing off gay people is also nothing new to the horror genre at all, and there's a point at which it stops feeling like a social message and starts feeling more like a cheap prop, like the dog or cat you know is only present so we'll get to see how mean the villain really is.

Don't get me wrong, there have been horror narratives that explored the subject of hatred quite well, but it ISN'T ever explored any further here. In fact, it's never mentioned again and leaves no impact on the storyline other than the fact that it is how Mike discovers that IT has returned. Almost anything could have served this purpose, and the scene is even stripped of additional context and relevance it had in the novel. Ultimately, it just feels poorly handled, overshadows the rest of the film's horror, and didn't do much to really move the narrative forward.

And I can speak from experience that I've definitely seen and met way too often people who don't quite know how to tell the difference and it shows, it really shows in a way that doesn't just cheapens the works they are making but also makes them more, I guess the word I'd use is "childish", like it's coming from a deep lack of understanding or reference point or even a desire to further understand what exactly the things being depicted are or why they are terrible or why they affect people so deeply, the kind of stuff that, if you've lived through or seen or bonded with people who've been through them, kinda bleeds through your art even when you don't intentionally set out to portray them.

And to an extent I think that's where Peter Cushing's coming from, as someone who did indeed experience great horror and tragedy, who lived through the Great Depression and both World Wars and the Korean War and lost the love of his life when he was 48, and made a career playing villains, of course he's gonna look at the word "horror" applied to what he's doing and think that it's not at all horror, that's not what horror looks like to him.

But, to an extent, that's also a big part of what horror is supposed to do in the first place, as a distraction from the horrors of reality, a mirror upon said horrors, and an outlet for the experiencing of emotions attached to tragedy and horror, but nobody's getting hurt and you can get something out of it without having to live through it. It's a deeply, deeply important thing regardless of what you call it.

And I'm starting to wonder if, in the future, labels like "horror", "fantasy", "pulp" and "superhero" aren't going to fray and lose meaning further and further until we have to start coming up with new ones to retroactively define history through, something we already do, and even myself am guilty of.

So I guess it's not impossible that Cushing's going to have been ultimately right in his assessment.

#replies tag #hammer horror #horror tag #peter cushing #bogleech #van helsing

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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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