#and like while almost all of his classmates are coming to the conclusion that none of this is right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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split

— Shouto becomes victim of a quirk accident. In that he become two people who get along as well as fire and ice do. They clash at every moment, and only seem to agree on one thing: their love for you. Or in which Shouto gets split into two by a quirk that spilts chimeras and in order for peace to be found you find yourself in a threesome with two halves that make the one you love most.

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pairing: split!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, split!shouto, anal, double penetration, blowjob, rimming, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation, praise

word count: 8,930

a/n: LMAOOOOOO this waas actually fun to write the names I gave them were super easy because I am uncreative. I used an anons rec for shoutos hero name: reisho so that’s what that is. and thank you to my lovely canasian for finding the original drabble I wrote. pls enjoy!

kinktober day 6 main kink: threesome

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“What’s going on?”

It was a series of words that often came out of your mouth because, as a Pro Hero, there were many times where you had no idea what was going on. It usually ranged from asking why Kaminari and Kirishima were giggling and avoiding your gaze when you walked into a room to coming onto an active battle where Bakugou and Midoriya were bloodied and crazed. There was nothing off-limits to those words, as they were, after all, said in complete confusion.

“Where is he?!” you tried again, watching as nineteen different eyes look everywhere but at you.

However, it was without given when you watched your twenty -- wait, was that twenty-one? -- former classmates both stumble into one another as they turn to face you.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Mina squeaked, stepping up from the crowd, trying to cover up the two people in there that you couldn’t quite recognize as your classmates. “How was patrol? I heard that Todoroki-kun left you midway!”

You wished that last comment didn’t make your cheeks burn as intensely as it did.

Today had been one of the rare days that you had gone off on your route with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shouto. Both of you watched the busy streets and whispering between yourself as you avoided the masses, not wanting to get caught up with fan interactions that were rather unneeded. But there had been a large altercation that required Shouto’s expertise. Specifically, the voice at headquarters commanded that you stay on patrol while Shouto would leave. So you had watched as Shouto placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb softly petting your cheek, his smile warm.

“I’ll be back,” he had promised before taking off in a mist of ice and fire.

You continued the rest of your patrol with a rather childish pout on your face, you hadn’t enjoyed being sidelined like this, but you calmly assessed the situation. It probably wasn’t a fight you would be much aid in, and there was never a reason to send more than enough heroes onto a single area. But your route was coming to an end, and Shouto had still yet to reappear. Trying not to overthink it, you frowned while passing a store with TVs out in front.

Staring at the bright, flashing screen, you suddenly felt a sense of panic at the headliner: Chimera Quirk-Wielding Villain Apprehended by Pro Heroes Froppy, Pinky, and Reisho. (slight injuries on the hero team.)

With concern pitting up horribly in your stomach for your friends and boyfriend, you finished your assignment as calmly as you could, before finally getting to rush back to your agency. You had taken to the rooftops to get there as quickly as you could.

Through all that, you found yourself right where you had been in the beginning, staring at Mina, who despite the few scrapes of dirt and soot on your costume, looked normal. Your eyes glanced over at Tsuyu, who, like Mina, was unharmed -- which left Shouto.

“Something strange happened during that battle,” Momo spoke up, her face set with concern, her eyes, although not horrified, was definitely a bit at a loss for an explanation.

“Wha--?”

“The person we fought against could make chimera’s out of people, but the limits of their quirk meant that once they made a chimera, they couldn’t add more to the creation,” Mina explained, her head nodding as she looked from Momo to you. Her fingers were tugging at her pink curls, and you tilted your head.

“Is Shouto still smashed together with someone or something?” you asked, a bit hesitant to see what potentially horrific creation your boyfriend could have turned into. “I’ve seen Shouto show up home after the poop-villain fiasco, I swear I won’t cry if he’s ugly!”

“Well, no, kero,” Tsuyu frowned, her finger pressing to her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Mina-chan and I were a chimera for a bit, and the quirk has a limit when they make a chimera.”

You didn’t like how that was worded.

“Just fucking show her the idiots who threw the match!” Bakugou snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he shoved the crowd away in the middle, parting them like Moses did the red sea.

Idiots? You thought, your confused expression growing as you looked from Bakugou’s frowning face onto what they had been hiding from you.

And you instantly understood why when you were greeted with two heads. One entirely redheaded, the other entirely white-haired, each with identical faces who looked at you with the same tone to their eyes.

“You see, their quirk can also separate chimera’s, and well… I — we, guess that Todoroki-san is one,” Momo informed you as you stared at opposite replicates of your loving boyfriend. “The villain said they’ve never split a natural-born human chimera before, it had been their first time, so the lasting effects of the quirk are unknown.”

The redheaded Shouto still sported a scar on his face, but he felt completely different. His face was cold, stare distant, and burning with a suppressed, denied fury that you couldn’t recognize on him outside of a battlefield. But even with the cold look encompassing his body and stature like a thick sheet of ice, when he looked at you with his set of two burning turquoise eyes, you knew his feelings for you were still the same.

The white-haired Shouto had no scar, and he looked much closer to the man you knew currently, except maybe a bit more open? His face quipped into a smile, his eyes swimming with mirth, joy, and content with finally seeing you here, all good emotions but emotions you weren’t used to him exposing to the public like this. But even with the warm, loving look burning softly around him, his set of grey eyes shone with feelings you knew were true.

“My boyfriend is split into two?!”

There was something wrong with that sentence, something that carried heat because the moment you said those words, both Shouto’s seemed to freeze next to each other. Icy and fiery glares meeting in an electric firestorm as Deku promptly dragged you out of the room with Momo and Mina. You struggled against Deku’s iron grip, only seeing white-haired Shouto’s jaw drop in the beginnings of a speech while redheaded Shouto glowered at him with all the intensity he could muster.

“Y/l/n-san, we need you to never, ever mention that they’re the same person,” Deku immediately spoke as soon as the door between the hallway and the room where the Shouto’s were closed. “He’s — they’re — not handling that information very well, and are acting rather… immature about who the real ‘Todoroki-kun’ is.”

“They’re not connected by the same mind?!” you spluttered, your own mind feeling like it was split down the middle at the hypothesis that your boyfriend was both of these men, but none of them. “So, it’s like a split personality manifesting completely?”

“We’re a bit sure on how to compare it to something such as dissociative disorder,” Momo spoke calmly, undoubtedly her mind working a mile a millisecond to make sense of the strange predicament you all were in. “He’s been in here for some time now. And from what we’ve managed to question from him, both parts of Todoroki-san remember everything. It seems they differ in just how they felt about it on an emotional basis.”

You blinked once, twice.

“Do you mind giving me an example?”

Goddamn idiot you were.

“Well, I guess the bigger emotional differences were during our high school years,” Midoriya mumbled, his fingers pinching his lower lip in thought. “A good example would be why he challenged me during the sports festival. Redhead Shouto said he did it because he hated Endeavor so much back then he was willing to prove his strength no matter what. White-haired Shouto says it was an overreaction on his own part and that he’s truly sorry.”

You frowned.

“It almost sounds like if Todoroki-san’s quirk had been only one of his parents, and his two halves are insights to the life he would have led if he had only one,” Momo offered a pursed stare. She didn’t seem too sure of her conclusion, but for you, it was enough.

“Honestly, you were the only one I saw both Todoroki-kun’s act the same toward!” Mina exclaimed, her hands grabbing your shoulders as she leaned in close, a sly grin on her face. “It’s like the two of you are destined lovers, no matter how the world is!”

“Mina!” you whined, feeling utterly embarrassed as she snickered loudly, her eye falling into a wink before straightening up.

“Alright, so just a recap: don’t mention which one is the ‘real’ Todoroki,” Mina warned, already moving back into the room.

“What do we call them then?” you whispered, feeling not at all prepared to stare at two, stupid hot versions of your same boyfriend.

“Ah-ha, well,” Midoriya smiled embarrassed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you all walked back in. “Only Kacchan brought up a nickname so far.”

“YOU STUPID FUCKING RED HALF!” Bakugou’s voice roared the moment the door opened, and immediately, you were pulled back into the mess of the situation. “I’LL MURDER YOUR ASS!”

“Someone was clearly not raised on manners,” came the snide remark from Shouto’s white half, and you watched on in horror as your old male classmates worked together to hold off all three rambunctious boys to keep from fighting.

“LET GO OF ME, SHITTY HAIR! I’LL GIVE THEM BOTH NEW SCARS IF THEY KEEP ACTING LIKE THIS!”

But you stared at the apathetic face on Shouto’s red half, his eyes somehow empty, dull, and angry as he glared at Bakugou.

Red half.

Red.

You looked at Shouto’s white half that was grinning at the challenge, icy frosting off his body akin to the explosions on Bakugou’s fists as he egged him on.

White.

That would be easy enough.

You snorted, before walking forward, grabbing your boyfriend(s) hands in yours, and they quickly turned to look at you. Their gazes turning warm and full, their demeanor utterly different as the raging Bakugou faded into the background.

“So, I’m sure you both know what’s going on at the moment,” you spoke clearly, just loudly enough to be heard over the popping explosions on Bakugou’s palms. “I also know you’re both confident in who you are, but the truth is you both have the same name, so we’re going to need a new thing to call the both of you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, I see,” white-haired Shouto nodded, his hand tightening around yours, his thumb running along the backside of your palm. “You will continue to call me Shouto, and we will call him, the Imposter.”

Wait, what?!

“I’m not the imposter,” redheaded Shouto rolled his eyes, taking the hand he held up to his lips, pressing a gentle, warm kiss to your knuckles — it contrasted chillingly with the cold, aloof tone he continues to have with his white half. “I am, after all, the one with the facial scar. It is the most recognizable feature of me. Clearly, you’re the imposter.”

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered and how your cheeks exploded in heat as both Shouto’s were suddenly kissing your knuckles. They only went further after leaving warm, chilling kisses on your skin. For they pulled you closer by your waist, a physical challenge between the two to claim you. Even though they both were for you.

It was only made worse by the wide-eyed, cheek splitting grins, and spluttering noises made by your old classmates who relished in this rom-com type embarrassment.

“Oh my god, enough!” you squeaked, trying to shove both overpowering men away from you.

“See, you’re being too much,” white-haired Shouto snapped, ripping you from redhead Shouto’s hold.

“Let. Y/n. Go.” redhead Shouto growled, hand exploding with fire, and you wrestled yourself out of white-haired Shouto’s hold to press your palms flat against each of their chests.

“You both better calm down right now, or else I’ll send you off with our friends until you’re back to normal!” you snap, your cheek radiating with explosive heat. With the threat heavy on their minds, redhead Shouto took away his flame, and white-haired Shouto took a less defensive stance. Relieved with their current treaty, you thrust a finger at both halves, looking between your way too amused classmates and your boyfriend(s). “You will be called Red--” you jabbed redheaded Shouto with your finger-- “and you will be White!” you spoke clearly, tapping white-haired Shouto with your other finger.

“Am I understood?”

Silence.

You glared at your boyfriend(s) who were staring down at you with wide eyes and gaping jaws.

“I said, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” your boyfriend(s) sputtered.

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Highlight of Day One of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Where is Red going to sleep?” White asked as you settled into the, thankfully, large bed the two -- now three -- of you shared. “On the floor?”

The bed had been a present from Endeavor when Shouto had moved into your apartment with you. It was much bigger than anything you owned, and while you hadn’t been fond of the length and stretch of the bed, you indeed were grateful for it now.

“Y/n likes to be warm when she sleeps,” Red duly noted, glaring at White the entire time it took him to crawl onto the right side of the bed. He settled right by you, arm wrapped around your waist, chin grazing against your temple. “You sleep on the floor.”

“You need comfort to stay beautiful, and since you’re eliminated from being that because of the scar on your face, you can sleep on the floor!” White countered while reciprocating the same position Red was doing.

Red’s eyebrow twitched at that before his glare soured and became icy cold, “I have the bigger co--”

“Both of you shut up now!” you snap, the palms of your hands shoving their faces away from one another. You were feeling more like a mother to a pair of troublesome twin toddlers than the girlfriend of your boyfriend(s). “I don’t want to hear it!” you groan as both their jaws dropped to attempt to speak their mind. “If you can’t shut up and sleep, I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“No!”

“Then shut up, love me more, and let’s go to bed!”

…

“You don’t have the bigger cock--”

“Oh my god!”

“Please don’t go, my love, White is an idiot.”

Highlight of Day Two of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Well, this is certainly an interesting thing to be experiencing,” Rei’s gentle voice filled the room as both Red and White sat at her sides. Neither one of them touching her, but their gazes warm and soft for their mother. Rei touched the cheeks of both her son(s) and sighed softly before returning her attention to you. “Has it been hard? I do hope they’ve been behaving themselves.”

You smiled in hopes it would help to hide the grimace on your features as you laughed.

Just this morning, the two of them nearly burned down the kitchen while trying to outperform one another in making you breakfast in bed. It was of ample notice to realize that just one Todoroki Shouto was not to be trusted in the kitchen, but putting two Todoroki Shouto’s in there had caused them to somehow burn water and melt the stove.

The eggs they managed to pull together were burnt yet undercooked and had eggshells in them.

It wasn’t the worst meal you’ve had fun enough.

“They’re doing just fine,” you lie, your smile warm at the woman you would hope to one day become your mother-in-law. “Just a bit odd to deal with two people when I’m so used to one.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. In fact, they initially saw Shouto was to be twins, but he absorbed the other one in the womb,” Rei admitted, a small laugh on her tongue as she politely covered her mouth, her eyes closed in her mirth. “A bit funny how it seems like this could have been the outcome of that life.”

You feel a cold sweat drip on the back of your neck as Red straightens, his eyes darkening as he makes contact with Rei’s arm, and fear thrums through every fiber of your being.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes, Shouto?” Rei asked, her warm grey eyes taking in Red’s gloomy form.

“White called me ugly.”

Highlight of Day Three of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“My love, I’m not feeling too well,” White groaned on the couch when you first arrived home.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for you, you were still being cleared to work during this time of split Shouto. After a much-needed relatively short time away from home, you had returned after a patrol to a clean apartment living room and Red sitting on the singles armchair, and White sprawled on the couch.

You froze, Shouto hardly ever got sick! His internal temperature was always so in tune to the things around him that no virus, bug, or bacteria ever managed to infect him with sickness. For all five years of knowing him, you had never once seen him sick.

“Oh my god!” you panicked, rushing to remove your coat and shoes as you ran over to the couch to feel his forehead for a temperature.

He was running a bit cold, as he always did on his right side of his body, so you internally freaked about if this was normal or not! Your Shouto always had a specific spot on his forehead that was considered normal, but this was not your normal Shouto.

You were fucked, so wildly fucked.

“Are you okay? What do you need? I can go get you a blanket. I’ll get some soup going! What medicine do you think you need?!”

“There’s…” White trailed off in his exhaustion, his hands rubbing his face in probably his sick delirium. “There’s only one thing that will help…”

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in closer to him so that his flushed lips were centimeters from your ear.

“I need... “ he trailed off, and you leaned in closer, only to be suddenly trapped in his arms and pulled on top of him. “Some one-on-one time with my beautiful girlfriend!”

The scent of burning leather filled the room.

“WHITE PUT IT OUT! PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

“Princess, I’m not feeling good.”

Good fucking grief.

Highlight of Day Four of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot.”

“Cold.”

“Hot!”

“Cold.”

“The store has both!” you sobbed, your boyfriend(s) adopting their possessive hugging on your body while out in public as you had attempted to get them out of the house because you thought that maybe, just maybe, they were feeling stir-crazy.

“But we always share our soba noodles, y/n,” Red looked down at you, tilting your chin so that you could look at him clearly. “I know you love cold soba more.”

“We get it, Ice Princess, daddy hurt your feelings, and now you still hate everything hot! Get over it; y/n always buys hot soba when you’re not around.”

“G-Guys,” you whimper, suddenly feeling drowned out with the clashing of ice and fire personalities around you as the crowd watched on in bemusement. “Please stop.”

They suddenly both turned on you, their eyes narrowed, faces fierce as they both exclaimed at the same time: “Which soba do you like better?!”

You’re too exhausted of them to even scold them like you had used to anymore.

In the end, they tried to settle it via arm wrestling, which resulted in a horrible tie. They had both tried to use their quirks to win, somehow forgetting in the heat of their battle that their quirks not only canceled each other, but their strength was painfully equivalent.

Highlight of Day Five of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

To be frank, you missed kissing Shouto.

With them being the way they were and how horribly chaotic they acted, you knew if you kissed one, it would lead to them both impregnating you and slipping an engagement ring on your pretty ring finger well before you were ready for either one of those things. So instead, you stared at both of their equally perfect lips.

Full, slightly pouty pink lips that were somewhat chapped as they always were due to his quirk elements. Full, soft lips that you had felt pressed to your hands and cheeks for the past five days, and yet you craved it to be pressed against your lips, but that was undoubtedly dangerous.

But you continued to stare at Red’s lips, at White’s lips.

You liked seeing how their teeth exposed themselves when they smiled, or how he had barely formed dimples on his cheeks, the smile lines that had finally formed on his previously smooth face. You liked seeing the way he bit on his lower lip when he held his tongue, or how his tongue seductively swiped his lips when he caught you staring.

Wait—?!

You snapped out of your daze, staring at the suggestive, all too pleased look on White’s face as he leaned in close to you while Red was busy performing his daily workout routine.

“You want to fuck while Not-the-real-Shouto’s busy? He won’t know, I promise.”

You flush.

“No!”

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It was day six of split Shouto when you woke up.

Your eyes stinging with exhaustion as you stared up at the ceiling as bodies of ice and fire sandwiched you between them. They snored softly, breathes deep and full in perfect harmony as they slumbered. You hated Shouto. You hated him so much.

This could have been a fantastic experience in your fantasies. Cloning quirks were a thing, and often you would hear about the sexual endeavors many partook in while in the company of someone with such quirk. It seemed like so much fun. Someone existing solely to be fucked, replicated from someone you already trusted.

It seemed perfect.

But here you were. Living the life of many porn fantasies, but the clones — not clones — hated one another. You couldn’t even so much as breathe next to one of them for too long before the other came to rip you away, annoyed, and ready to reclaim you. They were behaving as if you didn’t already belong to them.

Maybe you could have handled the lack of horny, lusting out of your mind sex if they had simply allowed you to kiss them without starting a war. But they claimed they would rather die than see you kiss someone that wasn’t them (singular them).

So, you were struggling.

The internal struggle only grew when they woke up at the same time. Growing when they both exposed their scarred, perfectly muscled, and toned body. It grew when they pressed their sinful body against yours, and you could only look up at them with eyes like a full moon, heat wet in your panties. You wanted something to happen because watching them go at it again for the fifty-third time today suddenly made your mind snap.

Since they wouldn’t seem to quit fighting, you might as well be fucked while they fought amongst themselves. You were a big girl, you could handle two cocks around your body.

At the moment, you were in the communal kitchen living room area. You sat at the table, trying to enjoy your cup of tea while they stood a few strides away from you… arguing.

“Would you both put those mouths to better use than fighting with each other?!” you finally snapped, your hands tugging at the roots of your hair after you placed down your cup of tea. They had been fighting for the past hour as to whether or not Shouto’s first costume idea was created because of Red or because of White.

Neither one of them claimed responsibility on that one funny enough.

They fell silent immediately. Both their eyes wide, brows furrowed, and jaws gaping like a fish as they tried to separate their conversation from what you just said.

“Better use?” Red stated, his blink slow.

A curling, devious smirk spread on White’s face, “Oh, did my love finally cave to being fucked?”

“I didn’t think you would be into cucking,” Red admitted, his own smirk growing on his face while White frowned and glared at him. “What? It’s obvious it would be you tied up, White. You can’t expect y/n to trust either one of us to sit there, so she’d tie us up. My fire would easily destroy the bonds.”

Ah yes, how could you forget that they’d adopted only one half of the one quirk Shouto possessed. Now while you definitely wouldn’t mind cucking both sides of Shouto at some point, that wasn’t what you were craving at the moment.

“Y/n loves ice trailing down her body, I can definitely satisfy her better!”

“Like I said a few days ago, I have the bigger cock, so shut up and watch us.”

They were going to drive you insane.

Standing up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor as you did so, their attention fell on you. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in your chest as turquoise and grey eyes that you could read like nothing gorged into your form.

You settled between them, feeling dwarfed between their taller, muscled forms. Red was in a white t-shirt and sweats, White in a black shirt and dark jeans. You were unsure as to why you felt so shaken when you pressed your fingers between the valley of their pecs, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You blamed it on the six-day dry-feast the idiots put you in, and the mere thought of finally getting your way was exhilarating.

“This is what’s going to happen,” you say with no room for arguing, your gaze meeting theirs through your eyelashes. “We are all going to fuck. There’s three of us, and I’m the one who wants to be satisfied, so this will be a threesome. Fuck me any way you want, I don’t care, but whoever starts fighting first gets cucked.”

Red is staring at you with his piercing turquoise eyes, White’s gaze dropped to your tracing finger on his chest. But the consensus was the same.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A warm, fluttery smile breached your face, and you nodded.

“Good… now, fuck me.”

They begin almost immediately. Two initially contradicting forces of fire and ice abandoning their internal surge for power to appease and please you. There’s no stopping the shiver and the moan trapped in your throat when two identical sets of hands you knew and craved the touch of finally made contact with your body. Red’s hands were on your breasts, groping and massaging your mounds of flesh while his mouth pressed tantalizing kisses along the curve of your neck, along the length of your clavicle.

White had dropped down, his mouth pressing hot, kisses against the flesh of your thighs and your ass. His fingers pushing the sleeping shorts you still wore, his calloused fingers brushing against your clit.

You openly moaned, hands pressing against both White and Red for some form of support.

“You’re already so wet,” White groans his observation, his finger slicking itself against your wet folds.

You shake, your head nodding in full understanding as you began to rotate your hips against his finger. Of course, you were so wet, you thought, goosebumps flashing against your entire body when Red pinched your nipples through your light tank.

“You try living with two of me and be denied every physical need,” you gasped, your voice pitching the moment Red’s teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck the same time White’s finger curled within your walls. “Fuck…”

“It’s so cute when you whisper like that,” Red noted, his hands lifting your breast, tongue smoothing over your irritated skin. “I bet you didn’t mind our quirk accident because you wanted something like this.”

Now that was definitely something you couldn’t disagree about.

But with the way your body was so desperately deprived and how there were two sources of knowledge on you. Knowing the perfect sensations on your sensitive parts of your body, you pushed them away.

Grey and turquoise blazed into your skin, but you huffed, grabbing them by the hands and pulling on them.

“I want the bed,” you affirm, your cheeks feeling warm, your eyes keeping on theirs. “We’re fucking on the bed.”

“Of course, my love,” they responded together. And the heat in your body seemed to multiple when you pushed through into the room.

Guiding them into the bedroom, you didn’t release their hands until they were sitting down onto the bed—Red on your right, white on your left.

Their stares are expectant, already clouded with horny, lustful need when you let go of their hands. Before they could ask what was next, you leaned in, opposite hands pressing to each of their crotches, and they both groaned lightly in their chest. You palmed them through their clothes, your cunt throbbing with the fact that you enjoyed watching their hooded, lusting expressions bore into your figure. Biting down onto your lower lip, you stopped a tethering moan from escaping when both their hands grabbed onto your ass.

They fondled the flesh as you continued to palm them, the cock buried within their clothes growing harder and larger with every quick movement of your hand. They both were so hot and dangerously heavy hidden away in the confines of the pants, and you wanted nothing more than to be choking and stuffed full of them both.

But you don’t get your way just yet.

“On the bed,” Red suddenly commands, and you stop a squeak from embarrassingly ripping from your throat. You stumble on the large bed, and both Red and White shift so that there’s enough room for you to be perched between them. Ass on Whites side, face on Red’s, and you feel your body freeze when everything picks up speed.

White’s lips are on the back of your thigh, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his fingers take up rubbing your cunt again. Your body trembles under his ministrations, hips shifting, and bucking against him as he once again buries his fingers into your blistering core.

But with the moans singing from your lips, you felt transcended. The way that your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each shift of White’s fingers proving that point, you focused in on Red, who had shoved your breasts over the hem of your shirt. You whimpered loudly when his fingers pinched at both nipples, tugging at the pebbled flesh.

“Such pretty noises,” Red whispered, his nose brushing against yours, and you throbbed with the need to be kissed. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “Please give me more, more, please.”

Red inhaled sharply, his eyes blazing like blue fire before finally, he crashed his lips against yours, unable to hold back anymore, and you cried in glorious acceptance. You kissed Red back with everything you had. Your lips slick with your joining, mixing saliva while he continued to press bruising, heated kisses to your mouth. Your hands at one point had attached themselves onto his biceps, and you found your fingernails to be digging through his skin, but Red didn’t care.

He continued to play with your hanging, sore tits, his tongue entering the barricade of your mouth as he kissed you again, and again, and again.

His name spilling from your mouth until you froze, your back tightening the second something more was happening behind you.

White’s finger, covered in the slick of your essence, was probing through your ass all while he continued to finger fuck your cunt.

“Aw, you do like it when my finger goes into your ass!” White chirped, his finger pressing further past your tight rim, sending your mind into a flurry of thoughts and feelings at the sensation of being stretched out, while you collapsed onto the mattress. Red abandoned you. “Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it takes in my finger. It’s like it's sucking me back in whenever I try to pull out. So. Fucking. Hot.”

You could do nothing but choke out White’s name the second the finger curled in your ass and the fingers buried in your cunt came together to press between the thin wall separating the two cavities, and you keened at the feeling.

“White!” you yelled, your eyebrows furrowed in your pleasure, your hips bucking back against his hands. “More! I need more!”

It was at that moment his fingers abandoned your holes, but before you could cry at the loss, Red was back in front of you, naked as the day he was born. But his cock was hard, pressed against his stomach, standing tall and erect for you to suck.

“Come on, angel,” Red spoke, tilting your chin up so that he may press another sizzling kiss to your mouth. “Play with my cock.”

Still, on your knees, your back arched, mouth entirely occupied with Red’s mouth, your hand blindly grabbed his cock and began to jerk him off. You kissed him harshly, thoroughly, not wanting to let him go without exploring and feeling every little thing you could offer while you run your hand up and down his length.

You fully moaned into his mouth when his fingers lightly brushed against your neck, showing how sensitive you are. He runs his hand all the way down to your hips and latches onto your ass cheek. You mewl against him, wondering just why he was doing that when something hot and wet pressed against your cunt.

Breaking off the kiss immediately, you turned around to see White’s face buried into your ass, but his tongue was meeting your cunt with every languid lick.

“Shit!” you curse, your hips bucking and moving to better find White’s tongue against your core. But before you could find your spot, his tongue abandons your cunt and presses back against your tight, tight rim.

Trembling, your eyes roll to the back of your head, all while Red reclaims your lips.

Your hand encompassing his cock began to pick up in speed as White seemed to interchange between tongue fucking your ass and cunt. Whimpering needs only resonated from your mouth into Red’s as you jacked him off sloppily, messily at heightened speeds while you begged for more.

It didn’t take long before they both pulled away from you, and you in your heat daze, teared up as you watched both Red and White step onto the floor, their twin, identical cocks out, leaking with precum that called your name. You didn't need to be told what to do at this point as you stumbled out of bed, falling to your knees right between them.

With Red’s cock in your left hand, you pulled him into your mouth, your right hand expertly, yet blindly jerking White off. You pushed your head as far down as it could go along Red’s cock, your eyes trying to keep on his the entire time.

Relishing in the fact that his cock went unchanged, your tongue swirled around Red’s cock, your head bobbing along his length, and Red smirked down at you, pressing the tears in your eyes away. Pulling away with a string of saliva connecting his head to your lip, you alternated onto White’s cock, your left hand continuing to jerk off Red.

White groaned at the sudden heat, immersing against his length, his hips snapping into your mouth as you took him all the way in. You had been dating Shouto for a few years now. You were definitely capable of taking him in your mouth in one go without trouble. But it just felt so different with one of your hands stroking off Red, and White’s hands grabbing your head while he thrust into you.

Before you could settle on White’s cock, you switched back to Red, who decided to command your every little instruction.

It quickly became a game between Red and White on who could make you choke and moan the loudest as they fucked your mouth and throat mercilessly. You, thankfully, were entirely enjoying it, your soaked pussy rubbing against your tight panties, and you rutted against the fabric trying to relive the building, fast pressure in your core.

“Fuck,” White snarled when Red had you completely choked against his cock. His cock was shoved as far down your throat as it could manage, and he kept you there. Painful tears falling from your eyes while your throat struggled to remain relaxed despite the burning lack of oxygen. “Keep her there, Red. Don’t let her move.”

Red, who was only entranced by you for quite some time, looked up with amusement at his other half.

“What, you like this?” Red asked a taunt hidden in his voice but was buried under so much more throbbing lust. “You like seeing y/n choking against a cock?”

You whimpered against Red, your throat muscles fluttering and flaring along his length-- what was he planning?

“Who wouldn’t want to see y/n like this,” White breathed, and you shook at the nonverbal agreement that passed between the two of them.

You whined at the unknown, finally being released from Red’s cock, and you spluttered and coughed, drool and saliva drenching your chin while you turned towards White, ready to do the same. But you shrieked, the wind knocking out of you when they both picked you up from the floor and tossing you onto the mattress. You bounced when you landed.

Both Red and White quickly moved to remove your clothes until you were naked as well, their eyes glimmering with their treaty, a million ideas undoubtedly pouring through their mind.

White is on you first. He joins you onto the mattress, his lips pressing and languidly moving against yours, and you moan against him.

“We’re going to start fucking you now, baby,” White whispers against your mouth, his thumb running up against your still spit slicked chin. With just his finger alone, he moves you so that you’re on your hands and knees before him, waiting like an obedient pet. Your eyes flutter open, just barely opened so that you could meet his stormy grey eyes while his thumb slips over your bottom lip and into your mouth. “I hope you’re ready to be fucked… Red?” he called, his thumb pressing down on your tongue, instinctively flaring your gag reflex.

“Hm?” Red answered back, and you stilled when something hot and heavy smacked against your ass.

Once, twice.

“Fuck her right.”

Silence.

You whimpered against White’s thumb, your eyes watering while you studied his determined, playful face. There's a chuckle from behind you, and you shiver at the fact that you could practically smell the knowing smirk on his face.

“Obviously.”

And then it happens.

Red slams his cock into your awaiting, wet pussy with a pleased groan while you lurched forward onto White at the mighty snap of Red’s hips. Naturally so, you screamed Red's name, your pussy singing in absolute love over the fact that he’s buried entirely within you, undoubtedly claiming you once again.

Before you could sing your praises for Red, White’s shut you up by replacing his thumb with his cock, and you’re forced silent.

When they worked against each other, they were annoying, irritating, and often horrifying, but together? Well, as Red’s cock shoved more profound and deeper into your womb, and White’s cock conquested your throat, you hummed with the pleasure they brought. Together they were powerful, commanding, and unbreakable, and if the sounds of your wet pussy and choking mouth were to prove it, it was more than just a fact.

You struggled to keep up with Red’s slamming hips, the girth of his cock stretching you out in an all too familiar way, and White driving cock that choked you out every time you moved. You felt dizzy with the thumping, tingling pleasure, your hand that held onto White’s hips clutching his skin, while your other one manipulated and circled your clit.

You wanted to cum. You wanted to so badly.

“You sound so hot choking on his cock,” Red laughed, his hand coming down to spank your jiggling ass with a single, powerful thwack. You bristled at the sensation. “Do more, sweetheart, I know you can do more; we’ve experienced you doing more.”

You garbled as White smirked down at you, your eyes just barely open enough to see the knowing look in his eyes.

“Use that little slut mouth of yours better, baby,” White taunted, his hand coming to pat your hollowed cheeks roughly, quickly, in a few stinging slaps.

This is what you liked, you realized as you pulled away from his length, mouth swallowing his balls with heightened eagerness, your hand rubbing his length as you did so. White moaned your name, his head dropping in his pleasure as you did so.

It must have done something for Red, too, because his fingers dug into the skin on your waist, his powerful thrusts becoming quicker, shorter thrusts that moved you against his cock with rattling power and craving lust. You whimpered against White’s balls and cried out in pleasure-filled pain the moment Red spanked you again, and again, and again.

Your cunt was fluttering, squeezing, and beating in time to your heartbeat. The pleasure within you grew from a light warmth to a blazing heat. You cried for more, your knees and thighs shaking for more.

More friction, more fucking, more of Shouto.

“Turn around, you little cockslut,” White grinned, removing you from his balls. “It’s my turn to fuck your pretty little cunt.”

Whining, you did as you were told, your limbs feeling like lead as Red smoothed back the hair falling on to your face.

Before you were ready, not that you minded, their cocks reclaimed your holes.

It was different this time.

They fucked you differently, you realized when White enjoyed pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back into you. His strokes and powerful thrusts send the coil in your stomach to grow tighter and tighter. But Red, fuck, Red had his fingers in your mouth, choking you with them as he slapped your cheek with his cock, his precum mixed with your slick smearing all over your cheek as he did so.

“I want to make sure that you realize that me putting my cock in your mouth is a blessing,” Red coldly smirked, his eyes blazing with a whole other story. But despite it all, you nodded your head quickly. Altogether agreeing with the claim that you needed to earn his cock in your mouth again.

“I kno thath,” you whine against his fingers, saliva shamelessly dribbling past your lips, your mouth closing to suck on his fingers. “I promith I’ll apprethciate your giff.”

He could try all he wanted, but Red was whipped for you too.

His cock immediately replaced his fingers, slamming to the depths of your throat, all while the wet noises of your throat and choking voices joined the squelching of your cunt. Your eyes rolled in your pleasure, your cunt thrumming with energy as Red’s hands encircled your throat, choking you while he fucked straight down your throat.

“You looked so pretty earlier when you couldn’t breathe,” Red snarled, his cock twitching in your throat the same time White’s cock twitched in your cunt. “I’m just -- fuck do that again -- trying to get you there… faster… Your throat really feels like your fucking pussy at times, shit.”

You whimper at that comparison as you forcefully clench your throat and cunt around both of your boyfriend's cock.

But you vibrate when White’s finger traces your rim, his finger not disappearing into your wrinkled muscle, but stimulating it well past teasing. You pull off Red’s cock with a spluttering cough, your eyes burning, but you find White’s gaze immediately.

“What’s going on, sweetness?” White asked, his eyes glimmering with knowledge of what you want already, but the slick fucker just had to ask.

Too bad you weren’t ashamed of shit around him.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” you moan, your hips slamming back against White’s still shifting cock, your hand clenching one of your asscheeks as you split yourself open for White. “Please fuck my ass.”

“Fuck!” they both seemed to growl, and without so much as a break, White switches from your ass and buries his length slowly into your needy, tight ass.

The pitchy, unstoppable moan from your mouth sends both Red and White into whimpering messes as you collapse onto the mattress, your chest heaving with your heightened stimulus. It was starting to hurt, your lack of orgasm, you just needed a bit more done to cum, and you wanted to.

“Where’s my dick?” White finally growls at you as he bottoms out entirely within you. You tremble at the question, body shaking with every stroke of his cock he makes afterward. “Where is it?”

“I-In my ass!” you wail, your ass clenching around him, trying to make him feel this heated pleasure as strongly as you were. “It’s in m-my ass!”

“Do you love my cock in your ass?” White snarls, his hands gripping your waist and slamming you back onto him, your ass squeezing with the sensation. You can’t speak; your mind is overloaded with feeling and emotion. “Why do I even bother? I know you love my cock in your ass.”

Red comes back into the equation, his hands grabbing your jaw and pressing your mouth against his into a searing kiss. You can hardly kiss him back, your mouth pathetically hanging open as he kisses your teeth, mouth, tongue. So, it shouldn’t shock you that in your near blissful blackout, Red hands your limp arms to White, who holds onto them.

His grasp and hold on your arms elevates you slightly off the bed, your back arched, and breasts exposed as he begins to jackhammer into your ass. You want to scream, you want to shudder and cry your sensations to the world, but Red interrupts once more by pressing his swollen, purpling head into your mouth, silencing you with gags and chokes while they both use you.

They both drive into you with ferocity and power, your body nearly limp and twitching with your ever still denied orgasm that refuses to back down, and the way the lack of oxygen makes you spin as Red’s balls clash against your throat in quick, succinct, patterns.

“Sit down, White,” Red snaps at White, and White, who was ever so entranced at how your ass was swallowing his cock, dumbly nods. “Y/n is about to cum, we need to make sure she cums correctly.”

You whine against Red’s cock, unsure if you heard him correctly when White drops your arms. But instead of falling forward as you thought you would, his relaxed arms wrapped around your waist tightly, bringing you down with him.

Your back was pressed against his chiseled chest. And you moaned at the sensation this angle brought in terms of depth and stretch. Your mouth, freed from Red’s cock, opened in a loud, scratchy moan, undoubtedly raspy from the abuse it went through from the vigorous face fucking.

“R-Red!” you cried, your legs shaking when White hooked his arms under your knees and spreading them out, exposing your wet, slick core to Red, who was merely watching. You shifted pathetically, wanting to have both of them on you, not just one. “Red, please!”

But, White’s hips began to thrust upward, resuming his fucking of your asshole, and you howled in pleasure as he breathed heavily, gasping in your right ear. But as your legs trembled, unsure if White would be able to keep your legs in such position, Red pressed on top of you, his weight keeping your legs spread, and his cock quickly slamming within your cunt.

You had one hand buried in White’s hair, the other slipping behind Red’s back when he pressed onto you. The second their cocks rubbed against each other through the oh so thin wall between your ass and your cunt, you screeched. The hand in White’s hair tugging at his roots harshly, and the hand on Red’s back drawing bloody mountains on his skin.

But this didn’t stop them, the slight pain you gave them doing nothing but making them growl in your ear, making your eyes cross in your oblivion while they continued to fuck you.

Sandwiched between them, your breasts crushed by Red’s chest, and your back buried into White’s chest, White let go of one of your legs that immediately latched around Red’s waist. Your eyes crossed, rolling to the back of your head, your mouth agape, but no noise coming out as every massive, hard thrust sent your soul into a new dimension. White’s hand sneaking between Red’s drilling hips and your cunt to pinch and pull at your clit as you shook like a leaf in a windstorm. You came without realizing it, your walls clenching like a vice against Red’s cock, and your ass clenching around White’s in tandem to your orgasm. Both of them moaning against your salty sweat skin, but neither one of them stopped.

Faster and faster, they thrust into you, gaining such speed and power that you felt akin to a ragdoll as they fucked you. They praised you for taking them both at the same time, senseless names, and wordless praise as you took them without a single wince of pain. You were theirs, they claimed, and they were yours.

The sounds of their cock drilling into the wet caverns of your cunt and ass, the sticking shivering sound of their balls smacking your ass and cunt.

It was so much, growing to be more and more, until your orgasm was once again growing as you attempted to shift your weak, still trembling hips up and down their length, wanton gasps shrill on your tongue. Your body begging for more.

“Gonna cum,” they whispered together, his deep, raspy voice filling both of your ears, and you wailed as your own orgasm tipped once again.

“Cum in me, please cum in me!” you begged with everything you had.

And with your pleading heavy in the air, they came with you. You moaned at the feeling of the hot, sticky thick ropes of cum filling up both your holes, the cocks spasming uncontrollably within you as their hips continued to ride out their orgasms. Your chest heaves as their snapping hips become rolling thrusts until finally, they stop.

All three of you still joined, all three of you sweaty and tired.

When you pass out, you can barely hear them saying goodbye.

…

You wake up, your body sore and bruised around midnight.

You groan, stretching out your neck as you realize that there is no body on top of you or beneath you as that was definitely how you all had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Panic filled you when the bed was empty, and you rushed to your feet, cursing when your knees buckled out from under your weight.

Crashing to the floor, you groaned as you lay there.

“What are you doing on the floor?” an all too familiar voice asked you, and you looked up to see if it was Red or White.

You blinked when instead the once two distinctive heads blurred into one, and you stared at your finally normal boyfriend.

“S-Shouto!” you cried, your body weakly pressing off the floor, your arms stretching to you.

Shouto smiled warmly, softly, the perfect in-between of the facial expressions Red and White would give you.

“I’m back, sorry for scaring you like that,” he whispered as he joined you on the floor, letting your arms wrap him into a firm hug, not wanting to let go as you pathetically began to cry.

The two of you lay naked together on the floor, his soft apologies gathering in your ear as you held him tightly, having missed him entirely.

“Do you remember?” you eventually asked long after Shouto managed to bring you back into the bed. You lay curled into his side, your fingers tracing the marks on his body that you had left on both Red and White. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes… and I remember how it all felt too.”

“Ew… perv…”

“Try that again? Ms. ‘I-want-your-cock-in-my-ass’.”

“SHOUTO!”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020

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aeempress · 4 years ago

Text

Apritello Express Evidences, part 2

Khem-khem, ladies and gentlemen, we shall continue out praising Apritello's episodes. And yeah, this part will be dedicated, in entirety just one episode.

Purple jacket. April and Donnie's episode.

I really love this piece of masterpiece, because it show April and Dee relationship, better reveals them as characters, and demonstrates their connection. (My previous points at this whole situation)

The episode begins with Donnie sneaking into April's school under the pretext of helping her. Soon, April stated the reason why she called D - her science computer project. Actually, she could take a photo of the code and sent it to Donatello, and I'm sure, he would send her the correct one right away, he's coder, he's prodigy, no probbles.

But still, April just asked him to come over and help her without stating any reasons. And he, indeed, came at speed of the light.

I want you to understand what exactly does that mean.

First: April is aware how much Donnie is into human culture. He wants to study in normal human school, do some average teen stuff. Especially, he is loving school and science-related stuff, all these science school projects, visits to botanical gardens, experiments and laboratory work. Because it's his field. It's exactly his domain, where he's good at. His family does not share his interest in science, and April is only one who can understand him. Probably.

Also, April know, how badly Donnie wants to go to school, which gives him an excuse, even if not the most solid one, but an excuse, nevertheless, to visit her school again.

Why again?

Because he has no problem navigating there. Donnie went directly to April's computer class.

He loves this place. And he'd already helped April with her projects.

Even so, knowing that every time she asked guys, especially Don, for help, it turned into a cataclysm, April still called him to help.

It's just a weird, indirect way to say, " Let's hang out, I know how much you like this whole situation with science, school and etc. Here ya go, buddy"

It seems like April did that to make something pleasant to him, something small, but nice to make him feel better. Because, as I state before - he likes to help April (praise, doing something useful for April - still counts as a motivation) and he likes school.

Second: khem-khem, D came at her school, as it seems, right away she called/texted. He didn't even know the proper reason, but c'mon: April ask for help, plus, her school. Sounds legit, don't you think?

Anyway, April has always been being the reason and excuse for teetles, but especially for Donnie. Clear? Clear. Good.

Donnie also tends to not think things through when he is excited. Because he went at the daylight in place, full of people just to help April.

ROTTMNT shows us how turtles were really afraid of human reaction and possible consequences. They have plan "H" to pretend they are going to Galaxy Con, brothers have explanation why they look weird and it's definitely not because boys are mutants, uh-huh, no, plus, guys go on surface at evening or night hours, when there are not so many people, and it's dark, obviously, to cover them and keep unseen.

Yeah, of course, Donnie seems more capable then his brothers to handle the surface (he has cash, D's dressed up as old ladies more than once, according to Leo, he was in April's school before, so yeah, no big deal) and I suspect that his friendship with April is one of the reasons.

Third: do you remember how April worried about looking "normal" when she was finally invited to a school party? She even forbade Mayham to appear nearby, just not to look like the lizard boy. Because cool kids don't bring pets to school. April doesn't have many friends, or rather, there are none at school, and she's been trying to solve this problem by getting close to Taylor Martin, the coolest girl in school.

And April O'Neil just calls Donatello, an objectively strange guy (since when is it normal to be a fan of school? Pretty questionable) in place, where her reputation is hanging in a balance. Our girl does not try to hide Dee, as it usually shown in shows for kids, and April do not pretend that she sees him for the first time in her life because, you know, Donnie will catch everyone's attention being himself and may embarrass her in front of her classmates. But no - April says with all her actions: "Yes, I know him. Yes, that dork is with me. And I don't give a damn about your opinion. Your problems, not mine. And yeah, I'm fine with him being here."

I mean it, guys. The devil is always in the tiny details.

The way they behave around each other.

Donatello is way more, MORE relaxed and just being himself: dramatic dorky nerdy ninja with current obsessions. The way he sneaked in school and April's classroom, the way he behaves alone with her is contrasting the way of his attitude while his brothers are near.

Don has a specific way to shown up. Instead of texting her, Donnie used shurekens. Yes, he almost fell off the lamp, but still, that's... quite an entrance he makes there.

April worries about him, when he fell from ceiling.

Our girl feel relaxed enough around Donnie, so she winks at him.

A wink is a fairly casual gesture that shows some expression of sympathy, trust, and togetherness. It's both good for saying "We're in same boat, we're team" and show the playful attitude towards someone. Isn't that an indicator?

Ironically, that being the best friends April and Donnie do not have any secret handshake/brofist/special greeting, as it usually the besties have at kid's series. Like Kendra and Jeremy have.

I can do only one possible logical conclusion: their relationship is far beyond "friends," "best friends," and "family".

Btw, about this certain phrase about secret five.

- Nay, fair April. A secret five[...].

Once again, nice wording, Donatello. Fair April? Maybe I'm too critical, but often when someone wants to convince their interlocutor and at the same time show one's condescension to them, it's usually uses "my dear ..." or something like that. I understand that semantically the difference is not very big, but in the first case, you can feel Donnie's personal attitude, even though he uses a book word. The second is just formal politeness, which emphasizes the difference between the rightness of the disputants.

This phrase were interpreted on official Russian dub as (okay, it's really hard to choose the correct word, because there's a lot of synonyms in English that sits quite well, while on Russian it's just one word, damn) "Нет, милая (No, honey/sweetheart )". Actually, a strange choice of wording, 'cause this is not what usually friends use to say to each other. We prefer use words like " my darling", "my dear", to demonstrate leniency. And again, most often this prerogative belongs to the older generation. Russians rarely throw around such words as "honey", "dear", "sunshine", because this deprives these endearments of any meaning, and a person using them, as a rule, is familiar. Of course, there are people who use them on a regular basis, but I HIGHLY doubt that Donatello is one of them. It's not his style.

But still, maybe I just too critical at this point.

April, as it is shown, have some kind of power to cool and calm him down and bring Donnie back to life reality.

1. Don awakes from his daze while heard April's voice

2. He's literally coming back to life, when April said about his broken jetpack.

3. Dee obediently interrupts his touching farewell to the jacket when April yells at him.

Oh, and his face. I remind you, fellas, we're talking about Donatello, "I really do not like to express emotions"-guy and "I will die if someone broke my bAbEyS"-guy.

And what do we see? Donnie's emoting. And feels free to do that. He's even drooling. (What seems kinda interesting without context, if you're understand what I'm talking about ;))

Dee doesn't seem angry about broken jetpack. And his wide smile, while he's assuring April he can fix it? A few minutes ago, he was steamed when his stuff was stolen, but when the jetpack was broken, he doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Very eloquent.

April is his support

April also supports Donnie whatever he's up to. Yes, she hadn't been excited when Othello had expressed a desire to join the club. However, she also introduced him to Kendra and company. Yes, she showed by her whole appearance that she did not share his joy, but nevertheless, our loyal captain O'Neil was there for him, by his side all this time.

And her sweet facial expression. From "Srsly? Join this jerks?" to "If you dare to even think about to hurt him, I'll smash you".

And one more cute detail about Dee. Even if he does whatever he wanted so badly, Don constantly looks around at April, looking for her approval.

- Be honest, April, do I look fantastic, or SUPERBLY fantastic?

- You look like you drop a juice box in a laundry. (Play nice, April, don't be mean)

He cherishes her opinion.

April had even called him late at night just to, technically speaking, say that his tech were stolen. And what's the big deal with all his outfit? It's late night, they can just sneak out into Nakamura in their usual form. But noooo, April give a special ride on her bicycle. Just. You know. Our girl carried her own weight and his all the way without stopping. And then she went up 53 + floors running non-stop because Donnie's equipment was stolen. And then she had to chase the her classmates, dodge and jump out of the window. Because Purple dragons stole Dee's tech. Like shooting fish in a barrel, no big deal at all.

And it's definitely not because he will be totally crashed or he'll do stupid things during his anger, which will then come out sideways.

And April comes along with him to very end.

By the way, their phone conversations.

Donnie is the very case when "Call at any time of the day or night and I will pick up the phone".

When April called him when he needs D's help with Albearto, when something is definitely going on behind.

As it says in transcript of the episode:

[April takes out her phone, scrolls to Donnie’s listing and calls him. Donatello appears on screen. Behind him a flying microwave wearing boxing gloves shoots lasers at his brothers.]

Don: "You are conversing with Donatello."

April

[Crouched on floor in hiding.]

Dude, I need your help."

Don: "For you, anything. As long as it does not involve bees, or spiders, or beach balls.

[There’s an explosion behind him and his brothers cry out, which he ignores.]

And yeah, he took her incoming immediately, he ignores absolutely and totally everything around him, because... April? Expositions, bloody flying microwave bot turned to destroy mode, his brothers screaming and being in life-threatening situation? Naaah, it can wait.

Donatello was at Todd's, building "the puppiest place on Earth" and was very enthusiastic about to finish this thing. But he paused anyway to answer April.

We already know how obsessive with work Don can be: if something interesting gets into his field of view, he begins to do it all day long. Remember "The Purple Game" - a very revealing case. Yeah, we weren't shown how much Donnie is into engineering, but I can guess that point remains the same.

April called him at late night and Donnie picked up the phone.

April, unlike Donatello, is a teenager who is burdened with social relationship such as family, school, and work periodically, which implies a more or less strict schedule to follow and some conventions, such as " April, you can't go out late at night to catch robbers, you are underage and you have to go to school/work tomorrow). However, she was watching the news late at night, so she called Dee. ( I have a lot of questions, but I'll never get answers, as it seems)

D, in turn, doesn't have so many contacts with the outside world. I highly doubt that anyone else outside of the family and April has his number. And yet, when he hears the call late at night he takes it. Yes, he had awaken from the nightmare, but still.

And what's up with his usual "You're conversing with Donatello"? He didn't even understand what's going on, as it seems, he's too sleepy to play his usual image and playfully attitude as we could see in "Hypno Part Deux" and "War and Pizza".

Adorable couple-like D&A arguing

April very rarely uses "I told you so" against anybody, or rather, this is almost the only case. This phrase is more suitable for Leo or Donnie, and you know," I told you so! " we usually use on people we know well, and we want to tease 'em about them being wrong. Which, in fact, once again highlights and proves how close D&A are. And I don't even get started about the fact that this is more like a couple's quarrel, not a friend's.

And one more time - in the end, when April suggests using the jacket to stop Kendra.

Their teamwork

I stated that before, I'll tell it one more and more times. The chemistry of their team interaction is incredible. It's as if they can feel each other, and each knows what the other is capable of doing in the next moment. April easily adapts to Donnie's attack, realizing his plan.

Donnie also throws them both out of the window in order to continue the pursuiting Kendra on the jetpack. Don is one hundred percent sure of April, that she will understand what he wants to do, Dee trusts her with his life without hesitation, and she has never used his jetpack. He just puts her before the fact: April will be using the tech.

Up for Donnie!

I really like how this scene was made. Donatello struggles with his own tech, somewhat he made by himself, having invested almost whole himself and his soul, but what "betrayed" him in end. When Dee finally managed to shake one of his battleshell, which almost choked him, Donnie feel so scared and unsecured. We can see his anxiety - Dee's coaching position with covering his head with his hands and tucking his knees.

Defenseless, helpless, and mostly lost, and then, just in time - hero comes to save his life. She uses Donnie's name as battlecry, look how furious she is.

Funny fact: on Russian dub April yells "Don't touch Donnie! (how dare you, madafaka)

April fits in Donnie's type of girls. She's cute (obvious) and mean (not so obvious).

I can't say that meanness is the main feature of April's character, as we can say about Kendra. But this personality trait is still present in her and sometimes it does not manifest itself so widely. April's meanness is not so pronounced, it is much softer and smoother, and it is not exposed.

But April becomes really mean when someone messes up with Donnie.

She's his support and prop. Literally. Just look at first frame, okay-okay, jokes aside

She's genuinely enjoying of kicking bad guys ' asses, even letting go of witticisms and barbs.

Last scenes

Don survived a rough night: he was used, his tech was stolen, so he and April had to chase the satin robed punks. Donnie was hit in the head with a hammer, he fell from a bird's-eye view, passed out and then his battleshell tried to strangle him. And April is here to comfort him, to cheer him up.

Yes, we don't get any hugs (because it's kids show, bleh), the tactility is kept to a minimum, except for April's comforting hand on his shoulder, but they don't even look at each other. But the softness of her voice, the intonation with which she utters a phrase (that is usually sent to the friend zone, but "pal" is really neutral word, and the most important how she said that) turn the scene upside down. It is not what April did to comfort him matter, it's how she did this.

I said "yes" to you way too often

April mirrors Donnie with his "Anything for you". Yes, of course, she said this with a certain amount of grumbling, but her voice and her demeanor suggest otherwise - she is not at all averse to going to giving in him.

And the way they're look at each other.

This one

And one more detail

It's really tiny, it's hard to catch from the first watching the episode, but still, it's possible. I'm talking about graffiti on the walls of the alley where April and Don had landed.

This one

Yeah, if we speak about reality it's quite normal to see graffiti like this. But we talking about TV-series, where everything has its own place and meaning. And if there something, it must be there, it's not just whim of artist who put it in there. But this little graffiti changes the mood of scene.

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bunnyinthestars · 4 years ago

Text

A Theory about Akumas (and Princess Justice)

So I noticed something about akumas, specifically their powers and their intended targets vs. affected targets.

I’ve compiled every instance I can remember of an akuma infecting someone other than its intended target:

1. Chameleon

2. Zombizou

3. Startrain

4. Miraculer

Let’s break down what happened to see what these instances have in common.

1. Chameleon:

In this episode, Lila convinces everyone in the class to switch their seats around so she can sit with Adrien in the very front, while Marinette is kicked to the very back. After Lila threatens her, and turns her classmates and friends against her, Hawk Moth sends out an akuma to evilize Marinette. The akuma comes close to infecting her in the classroom, but when Marinette becomes distracted by classwork, the akuma hover around, waiting for her emotions to come back. Once Lila threatens her in the bathroom, the akuma comes back to once again try to akumatize her, but she fights it off. The akuma ends up crossing the path of Lila, who uses it to her advantage and has it akumatize her through her earring. Her powers in this episode gave her the ability to steal someone’s physical form transitively through kissing them.

2. Zombizou:

In this episode, it is Ms. Bustier’s birthday. The whole class has brought gifts for her except for Chloe, who is implied to have forgotten. Chloe ends up sabotaging part of Marinette’s gift for Ms. Bustier— a make-up bag. Ms. Bustier opens Marinette’s gift in front of the class to reveal the sabotaged gift, and Marinette becomes upset, which leads Ms. Bustier to bring Marinette out into the hallway to talk about how being a good example for kids like Chloe is key, which calms her down. However, the akuma was already sent out, and so it lingers over Marinette and Ms. Bustier until Ms. Bustier is afraid enough for it to infect her. She then becomes Zombizou, and her powers are that she can make people into zombies by kissing them, likewise those zombies can infect other people the same way.

3. Startrain

In this episode, the class is taking a field trip to London on the new Startrain train that is operated by none other than Max’s mom. Roger is driving Sabrina— who is constantly being spammed by Chloe with remarks to hurry up— to the trains station, but he keeps encountering people breaking laws whom are getting away with it because he is off-duty. An akuma is sent out to evilize him, but the akuma becomes trapped in Sabrina’s luggage full of items Chloe may need, and Roger successfully drops off Sabrina and gets back to giving people tickets. The akuma remains in the luggage on the Startrain until Sabrina opens the bag and the akuma infects Max’s mom. Her power as Startrain is to control the train— meaning she can control its location and its interior capabilities— and to use the train to whatever she sees fit.

4. Miraculer -

In this episode, Chloe is standing by for Ladybug to give her the bee miraculous once more so she can fight villains again, and becomes disappointed when she doesn’t turn up. Sabrina, meanwhile, is trying to make Chloe feel better, and asks her if she wants to play “heroes”. Chloe flips out on Sabrina, scaring her away. Now alone, an akuma is sent to Chloe to evilize her and infects a photo of her and Ladybug, but Chloe effectively resists the akuma and it reroutes to successfully infect Sabrina. Sabrina’s powers as Miraculer are that she can steal the powers of any miraculous she can obtain and she can switch between them as she pleases.

Now for what they have in common. Note how in the first two examples, Chameleon and Zombizou, both of their powers are transmitted through kissing. The common factor is that they were both intended for Marinette.

For Miraculer, the miraculous power-stealing ability could have made sense for Chloe, too, because of how desperate she was to have a miraculous once again. For Startrain, the ability to punish people through the controlling of a mode of transportation could have easily been applied to Roger, who desired to punish the ill-doers he saw and who was within his own police car at the time.

The conclusion I reached here was this: An akuma is sent out with powers based on the emotions of the intended target, not whoever ended up as the recipient. Most of the time, the intended target ends up being the recipient of the akuma. But in those episodes mentioned, the two were different.

The assumption that an akuma can be sent out with specific powers in mind (based on the specific emotions/desires of the intended target) can also be seen in Catalyst, when Hawk Moth effortlessly gives Nathalie the specific powers he needs in order to become Scarlet Moth, just as they had planned. Knowledge that an akuma can have specific powers assigned to it based on its intended recipient was what made that plan work. If Hawk Moth had not known what kind of powers the akuma would give Nathalie, then that plan would not have been able to work. Her powers were to give Hawk Moth the ability to become Scarlet Moth because that was her strongest desire, and that’s why the plan worked.

(The akuma’s powers have been shown to be directly related to the desires of its intended recipient before, too. This is because, firstly, this can be seen in every akuma. In Timebreaker, Alix wished for her pocketwatch to be fixed, and so her powers granted her the ability to do that. In Malediktator, Andre Bourgeois wanted to be seen as powerful and worthy to Chloe, so his powers made him an all-powerful dicatator. In Mr. Pigeon, Mr. Ramier wanted justice for the pigeons, and his powers allowed him to make pigeons essentially rule the world. Each power the villain ended up with not only could’ve been applied to its original target, but the powers could be seen in what the targets wanted. )

To summarize:

Chloe wanted her miraculous, but more specifically, the powers her miraculous gave her. She was desperate enough to get her miraculous back that she tried the stupid dance and chant that Lila (who she didn’t even know) had told her would summon Ladybug. This is why Miraculer’s powers being to steal the powers of the miraculous and use them for herself makes total sense for if Chloe were to have been akumatized isntead.

Roger wanted to have control again, to be able to punish the people he saw breaking the law, but was confined by his duty to Sabrina. The fact that he was in his police car made it even worse, because it was almost a taunting of the power he had but the inability to carry out any of that power due to obligation. Therefore, his power being to control and punish, especially through his vehicle, makes sense.

And, finally, the most interesting one, since she has yet to be akumatized. In both Chameleon and Zombizou, Marinette wanted to remain in the safe, loving space of her classroom friend group but was attacked and made to feel hated instead of loved, so it makes sense that her power would’ve been spreading evil or growing her own power transitively through a kiss. This is why I believe when Marinette gets akumatized at some point (likely, as teased, into Princess Justice), her power will affect people through kissing them, just like Chameleon and Zombizou.

this might be a stretch but??? I feel like it makes sense????? I think I’m onto something here

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

Note

Heyy and congratulations on the 1k! For the song requests, what about slow down by chase atlantic with juyeon or hyunjae ?😁😁

Slow Down | Juyeon (tbz)

Listening to: Slow Down by Chase Atlantic

A/N: Heyo! Thanks so much for requesting! Oof this song gave me so much juyeon sexy vibes so I hope you like it. I just couldnt get Reveal Juyeon out of my head while writing this tbh 😍🔥🔥🔥 enjoyyyy! The other requests will be coming up soon!

------

If someone had told you that a mere night out with the girls would've resulted in you being pinned to the back of the club wall by none other than Lee Juyeon, you would've probably flipped them off and laughed in their face.

How had this all started? One might ask. Well, it all started because of a breakup between your friend and the star quarterback of the school, which prompted her to fall into a downward spiral of tears and the remnants of a broken heart.

In an attempt to lift her spirits, your friend group and decided to go out this particular weekend, in hopes that alcohol would be able to cure her broken heart. So off you went to the club in tight mini dresses and alcohol already running theiugh your veins only to bump into the said group of boys you'd been avoiding in the first place.

Your friend, named Suyeon, had reeled back like a an injured cat, hissing through narrowed eyes, "what is he doing here?" She asks, eyes glinting dangerously, with such ferocity that you grab her arm to tug her back, "don't. Just ignore him."

"Look at him, flirting with every fucking girl that gives him the time of the day," Suyeon spits out, not bothering to ask about the shot your other friend presses into her hands. She downs it in one go, not even wincing at the sting, "it's disgusting."

"Come on," you try tugging her towards the dance floor, adamant to make her forget his presence altogether, "let's go dance."

You're not quite sure how the rest of the night goes, just that at one point Suyeon his making out with another guy -- you guess his name to be Sangyeon, the captain of the football team -- while the rest of your friends tell you that they're going for another round of drinks.

"Having fun?"

You swivel around and almost stumble right into one of your mutual friends. Juyeon's grin is as gorgeous as ever against the disco lights overhead.

Your eyes quickly dart to the side, where your friends are currently screaming at the bar man for "one more shot!" Before swivelling back to him.

"How come you're not surrounded by the ladies?" You ask instead, quirking up a brow in the process.

You see him smirk and electricity zaps through your bones upon realizing how gorgeous he actually is.

Like, drop-dead gorgeous.

His reputation precedes him, of course it does. And ever since you've moved to high school his puberty seemed to have kicked in, causing girls to fall right left and center for him. You knew Juyeon though, knew him like any classmate in middle school did before coming to the conclusion that; he's still the awkward, lanky goofball that you know. Except, with a pretty face.

You've been staring too much, missing his response in the process, "sorry, what did you say?"

"You're not even paying attention to me," he whines through the throbbing music and you let out a laugh at that, nudging his arm, "I am, idiot! I just can't hear in here!"

That's when you feel his hand grasp your own. He tugs you closer, his smirk deepening into a smile. There's a spark in his eyes, "wanna dance then?"

"You flirting with me or something?"

His mouth brushes your ear, "what if I am?"

In retrospect, this is a bad idea. Not only are you all friends, but Juyeon forms part of the group of guys you've been trying to avoid all evening.

But as everything goes with alcohol, you throw safety to the wind and instead, wind your arms around his neck to pull him closer as if it's a challenge that you can't lose.

The heat is palpable between your bodies as you move in sync with the music, well aware of Juyeon's mouth brushing against the side of your cheekbone, the warmth of his hands gripping the sides of your waist as he slowly grinds into you. It makes you gasp and for a split second, you panic that you might have made a fool of yourself.

That is erased howevr, when Juyeon grunts in response.

Fast forward a few minutes later and here you are, pinned to a wall with Juyeon's hands on either side of your head and his heavy breaths caressing your face. Your stomach feels all twisted up in all the good ways and in this particular moment, you completely forget Suyeon, her ex-boyfriend, and everything that surrounds you.

Juyeon moves in closer, lips milimeters from yours. But then he stops, pauses to look into your eyes, "you sure about this?"

Frustration zaps through your nerves, "why? You backing out?"

"No. But I wanna make sure this is what you want," he pauses, and something that ressembles gentleness crosses his face, "I don't want you getting all awkward over it--"

Your hands shoot out, tug the front of his shirt, and you crash your lips to his, cutting off the last of his sentence.

Juyeon groans softly. And then he's kissing you back like his life depends on it. Adrenaline floods your veins and you tug him even closer, fingers carding through his hair as his mouth slants even deeper into yours. His hands drop to your waist and he pulls you close, oh so close that you feel his heat against yours.

You whimper at the contact at the same time his tongue delves out to dance against yours at a pace that makes your head turn, cause your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Tugging onto his hair strands and hearing the vibration of his hum against you sends sparks flying straight down to your toes, prompted even more by the way his lips slide down your neck to nibble onto your skin.

"Juyeon," his name rolls off your lips the moment his throat rumbles with a satisfied growl, and before you can blink he's back to kissing you fervently. It's a kiss full of mouth and teeth and -- god his tongue, it makes your body sing in delight. You swear you've never tasted something this good, this...passionate.

When he pulls back, it's only to come up for some well-needed air. Your eyes lock, dark and hazy and filled with unmistakeable passion.

Your heart flutters up your throat.

"What..." the words trail off, unsteady under his piercing gaze, "why are you looking at me like that?"

In response, his grip on your hips tighten slightly, "I've...been wanting to do that. For a long time now."

Embarrassment flares up through your face, "what?" You splutter.

"I mean it," one of his hands come up to push a stray strand away from your face then, the movement gentle and making your heart melt, "and I don't find it fair not to tell you."

Alarm bells ring in the back of your mind, signalling to you that this is a bad idea and that you will definitely regret this the next day. However, you find it impossibly to pull yourself away from the heat wafting from Juyeon's body, from the amazing smell of man and spice and just mouthwatering sexiness pooling off him.

Warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach. You swallow, hard. Juyeon's eyes never leave your face.

"Say something," he urges through what sounds lime a nervous chuckle.

You do.

You cup the sides of his face and pull him towards you into another searing hot kiss.

Fuck it.

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poetryandjack · 4 years ago

Text

The Speech

1k words - Gay! Edmund Pevensie x Male! MLM! reader

There was always something different about Edmund Pevensie. The dark haired boy who moved to the city a few years ago. You couldn't say for sure much about his past, but he was very close to his three siblings. You knew him fairly well, you two had chemistry together, but you were much closer to his sister, Lucy. Aside from chemistry, you were in the speech and debate club, which you participated in the speech part of, with Edmund much more into the debate part. You were also part of GSA, but he never came, which was expected.

"Keep up y/n" - yelled Lucy. You two were doing the mile run, and you had slowed your pace. “I hate having to do this!” you yelled back. Lucy laughed and slowed her pace so that you could catch up to her. About two minutes later you finished just a second after her. “Good job you two!” your p.e. coach shouted at you two.

As you drank from your water bottle, you heard one of your classmates say something about “that english kid’’ You figured they were referencing Peter, the more popular of the two boys, until you heard something else. “I heard he broke up with that girl, the blonde, and she doesn’t know why” which startled you. Edmund had been with that girl for a least a few months now, and it had seemed to be going well. “Oh well” you thought, he’s probably too busy with school or something like that. That's what he always told Lucy whenever you and her tried to hang out with him.

The period ended about 10 minutes later, and you headed to Chemistry. You took your usual spot next to your childhood best friend. “Did you know that Ed broke up with his girlfriend?” you casually asked. “Yeah, half the school knows, and that girl started a rumor that he is gay” they responed while rolling their eyes. This shocked you. A bunch of thoughts ran through your head “That's not true, is it?'' you responded. They were going to say something, but then the bell rang.

“Good afternoon class, today we will be doing a lab.” your teacher announced, and everyone groaned, including Edmund. You looked at your childhood best friend, and immediately realized they were looking at their crush. They looked back at you and asked “Do you mind y/n if I, um…”, which you responded with ‘Oh yeah go ahead”. They headed over to the table their crush was sitting at.

The relaxation hit you a moment later, you didn’t have a partener. “Hey” said a voice coming from behind you. You spun around, and realized who it was: Edmund. “Do you need a partner?” he asked in his usual confident tone. You responded relieved “Yes, thank you for coming to my rescue.” You two headed over to grab goggles, then started to heat the solution up.

As the experiment progressed, mixing and measuring solutions, Edmund only spoke when necessary and when talked to, which was incredibly frustrating. “Why did you break up with her?” you asked, and was answered with “Why do you want to know?” in a tone that almost seemed as if he was nervous. Almost immediately, you started to blush, but when you went to respond he cut you off with “We need to finish this lab”. You both finished and cleaned up the lab in silence, and went your separate ways to do the lab conclusion and write-up.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about Edmund, his response, and the rumor. Could he be gay? Maybe it was just a rumor, you kept thinking, but when you thought of the possibility of it being true, you felt weird about it, almost happy.

Lucy texted you after school ended “you want to go to a movie?” You replied with “sure, meet up at your place after speech and debate.” Then something hit you like a bus. Edmund was going to be there, and you were going to practice your informational speech on the Stonewall Riots. What a perfect topic for the current situation. Then you got a text, from Edmund of all people - “do you want to practice at my house?”, which was odd, you two never spent time together outside of school related things or group gatherings that Lucy had invited you to. “Sure” you responded, wondering why.

When you arrived at the Pevensie’s home, you noticed that all the cars were gone. You thought at least Peter and Susan would be home. You also noticed Lucy’s bike was not there. “She’s at play rehearsal of course” you muttered to yourself. You rang the doorbell, and a few seconds later he opened the door.

“... and none of the modern LGBTQ+ movements would have been possible without the throwing of a brick, the match of the fire for rights'' you finished strongly. You were hanging out in the living room, and as soon as you ended your speech, Edmund started to give feedback, most of it positive, but a few points to work on. The next thing that came out of his mouth surprised you “I thought it represented how it had benefited people like me well.” Then he paused. “ I mean the community” he stammered out, but you’d already realized what he meant.

“You are gay.” you said in a shocked tone. “Well I mean that's great! I guess we have more in common than I thought”, but when you met eyes with him you saw the same fear you felt the first time you came out. When he stood up and approached you, you expected a thank you, maybe even a hug, but when he kissed you, you were shocked. He kissed softly, and it lasted a few seconds. He backed off, and seemed to study your reaction. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done th-” but you interrupted him with a kiss. Maybe someone would be joining you tonight for the movie with Lucy.

#edmundpevensie #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie headcanon #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie oneshot #narnia imagine #narnia fanfic #gay!edmund #male reader

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osamusriceballs · 4 years ago

Text

"Be my boyfriend"

Tendou x Reader

Words: 1,2k

Warnings: None

About: You ask a stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend- but you would never have thought that he would act like this...

_____________

"Y/n- what a surprise! Where is your boyfriend?"

Her voice hits a certain decibel that makes your ears hurt. Oh no, not her-

"Oh, hey. I didn't see you here, how are you?"

You quickly try to distract her from the boyfriend thing, but it seems like luck is not on your side today. First, you couldn't find your favorite chocolate in three different shops, and now you bump into an old classmate- who thinks that you actually have a boyfriend, because you stupidly made one up when you met her the last time. She wouldn't stop pitying you during dinner, and at some point you just showed her pictures of the last guy in your camera roll.

Who happened to be a red-haired choclatier, you have literally never even talked to- leave alone met. You only saved that one picture, because it showed the name of his shop in the background, and you actually wanted to visit the place, because the sweets looked amazing. You never would have thought that you would use them as fake boyfriend pictures.

But that leads to your current misery.

And now she assumes that you’re shopping with him. She can’t find out that you made that story up-

"I'm good. But what about your boyfriend, y/n? Where is he? Shouldn’t he go shopping with you?" she grins devilishly.

She knows.

She totally knows.

"Uhm... he must be somewhere. I'll search for him."

You immediately turn around and hide behind the next aisle with sweaty palms, still feeling her burning gaze on you. Oh my god, what if she tells-

"Miss, you're blocking the way. You might be sweet too, but I need these chocolates right behind you." You flinch when you hear a voice behind you. A very amused and lighthearted voice. You turn around- and your jaw drops.

No way.

There is no way, this is real.

"You- you're... Tendou Satori?" Your eyes get big when you look at the stranger. It is him, without a doubt. It's almost strange to see him without his work clothes, but he looks handsome even without them.

His brows furrow a bit at your words, but he smiles immediately. "Yes, I am indeed the Tendou Satori! Wait a second, I need to call my buddy to tell him that I'm officially famous now."

He fishes for his phone- and that's when your brain finally came to a conclusion, and you quickly grab his hand. "Huh?" he blinks confused, but you see your chance to come out of the awkward situation without getting your reputation ruined.

"Listen, Tendou-san. I know you don't know me, and that this seems totally creepy, but could you maybe pretend to be my boyfriend in front of that girl? You just need to stand next to me and smile, that's it. And then we will go out of the shop together, and you can leave. Please, please, be my boyfriend." the words blurt our of your mouth, and his big eyes get even bigger while he listens to you. He must think that you're crazy now, good job, y/n.

Tendou doesn't hesitate for a second before he answers.

"No."

"What? How can you leave me hanging here? Don't you have a heart? Please think about it again," you desperately plead, but it's not as effective as you hoped it would be. But he suddenly scratches the back of his head and leans down. Your noses almost touch, and you gulp at the intense eye contact. He has pretty eyes- and a pretty face too. And he is really tall, you would never have guessed, because he often stands next to another guy with dark green hair when he’s on TV, and looks somewhat tiny compared to him. How tall must the green-haired be then?

"Okay, I'll do it, if you pretend to be an exited fangirl when I call my friend."

"Huh," your jaw drops. "Are you- are you serious?"

"Yes." he nods with an enthusiastic spark in his eyes.

"O-okay. That’s no problem at all. I will do my best and- Wait, she's there, pretend that you know me."

He looks up, his eyes following the direction your nodding to, and he crooks his eyebrow surprised. "The whole charade, just for her? I hope it's worth it."

"Y/n!" her voice cracks when she sees you with Tendou- and you smirk confidently.

"Yes? You want something?" Her eyes look from Tendou to you- and back again. "How-"

"Love, who is this? A friend of yours?” you slightly flinch when Tendou suddenly takes a step towards you and takes your hand. Did he just call you love? And why did your heart flutter at the change in his tone? His voice is now soft and sweet, just like the chocolate he’s always working with.

“Uhm... she is a former classmate... we haven’t seen each other for a long time, that’s why I probably never mentioned her before,” you nervously mumble and squeeze his hand subconsciously.

His grip around your hand tightens in response, and you feel surprisingly calm due to this small gesture. An amused chuckle leaves his lips. “I see. Anyways, I think we got something important to do, right? Let’s hurry, I want to get back home and make that fancy dessert just for us. It’s our anniversary after all, sweetheart.” He winks, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at his actions. Why does he have that effect on you?

“Y-yes! Alright, I’m done, let’s go.” you quickly pull him towards the register after you bid your goodbye to your classmate, who still stands there with a startled expression.

It worked. Now you just need to pretend to be a couple until you leave the shop. Tendou is surprisingly easy to get along with, and you find yourself laughing at his random comments when you wait at the queue.

“Her face was hilarious- why was she so surprised that you had a boyfriend? You look beautiful, leave alone your personality. Why wouldn’t she believe that you have a boyfriend?”

Your cheeks heat up at his words- at the way he casually compliments you like it’s the most normal thing to do. Is he being serious right now?

“Oh- she always used to compete with me in high school, and she probably saw this as competition too. She is already married, and she loved to tease me and call me a forever alone. But thank you for saving me, and as I promised, I won’t bother you any more as soon as we’re out of the shop.” You politely bow towards him and make an attempt to go to walk towards the exit- when he suddenly grabs your sleeve, just like you did to him before.

You look at him confused, but your heart flutters at his wide grin. Why does he look at you so happily?

"Wait, we need to celebrate our fake anniversary, right? And let me show you the best place in town while we’re at it." his voice is cheerful and his puppy eyes cause you to smile involuntarily.

"The best place? The beach?"

"Okay, the second best place."

"The bar that gives drinks for free when you come after 2 am in a giraffe costume?”

"Yes, exact- no, wait, what? There is such a place? Wow, I've got a rough competition here. Okay, seems like you don't need to see my shop then. Too bad, and I wanted to show you the place where all the chocolate magic happens."

Your jaw drops when he mentions his shop, and Tendou dramatically turns away with an exaggerated pout- only for you to grab his sleeve once again.

“Hey, forget what I said, your shop is my number one place to visit on my to-do list! Seriously, I even made plans to go there next week.”

“Really?” his eyes light up at your words, and he suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder, causing your heart to flutter. No, you can’t fall for a stranger-

“We can bake whatever you want, it’s our anniversary after all. But before that...” he dramatically pulls his phone out of his jacket.

“Let’s say hi to my friend Wakatoshi-kun!”

#haikyu x reader #tendou x reader #tendou fluff

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simp4fictionalguys · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request Todoroki x reader? Where she’s going to his dorm to hang out and cuddle you know, and she runs into endeavor and he asks who she is and her relationship to him cue anxious reader and Todoroki steps in with lots of fluff??

Hey! A MHA ask between all the Gojo asks 💀 I love Todoroki tho! Don’t hate me but I like Endeavor too, I find him an interesting character. DONT get me wrong! The things he did were awful but I think him trying to redeem himself at least shows something 😅 Anyway! Enjoy this piece, I hope u like it!

His day had already been bad. It went downhill since morning. He woke up late, none of his classmates made the effort to try an wake him up. His first class was homeroom, the classroom was full of arguments between the students, he didn’t even pay attention to it, trying to ease his bad mood, however, he had nothing to shield his ears from Bakugo’s shouts.

The following classes were normal. It made him think that not all day was going to be awful. At lunch he couldn’t find Y/n. Her being in Class B made him unable to see her in the lessons. The two of them met after some training arranged by the teachers, they got along really well. Y/n being more on the reserved side like him, someone who doesn’t attract a lot of attention. After that, the two of them started to train together, just the two of them. The training sessions then morphed to dates, making the feelings blossom for each other.

After lunch, classes followed like normal. It was time to go to the dorms. Todoroki has his phone in his hand almost immediately, ready to call Y/n to his dorm and finally relax in her arms, the only place that made him feel safe.

Marking the digits like they were engraved in his mind, he pressed the button. He heard two rings and then his girlfriend’s voice was just beside his ear.

“Shoto? Is something wrong? You don’t usually call at this time.”

He smile at her worries.

“Hey, sorry if I annoyed you Y/n...”

“No Shoto! It’s nothing like that! It’s just that you always call a little late to ask how my day went... I just got use to it...”

“I’ll make sure to call you more often then.”

Todoroki heard her giggles so close to him thanks to the phone by his ear. The sound made his heart jump a little. He loves hearing her laugh, enjoying her time with him. It reassured him that someone gave him such pure love.

“I know you are busy doing other things some days! Don’t worry about it.”

The two of them fell in silence, the only sound coming from Todoroki was the background, his walk to the dorms wasn’t long but he choose to go slow. Y/n was already in her dorm, her class finished earlier since everyone decided to finish their assignments in lunch. They missed it but everyone could easily cook something in the dorms.

“So, tell what’s bothering you Sho...”

He stopped walking for a little. How did she know that he wasn’t in a good mood? It wasn’t like the two of them saw each other all school day. The only interaction was a few texts in the morning but nothing else.

“You get more quiet when something is troubling you.”

He resume his walk before answering.

“You got me... I just... Haven’t had the best day so far...”

“Are you heading to your dorm?” Y/n was already getting ready to go with him. She needed to take a quick shower and put on some comfortable clothes, it would take her a little, not an hour though but still some time.

“Yeah... Could you... Ar-“

“Yes Shoto, I’m getting ready to go to your dorm.”

Todoroki didn’t know what he did to deserve someone so gentle. Y/n is always ready to go to him when he feels down. His doubts began to plague his mind. What if he isn’t good enough? Is he doing a good job at being her boyfriend? And a lot of questions like that.

“Sho?”

His thoughts were interrupted by Y/n. Shaking his head to get rid of those ideas he didn’t realize that he was already in front of his class dorms.

“Sorry... I just got caught thinking about something. So you’re coming?”

“Yes! I’ll be there in a while, wait a little!”

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I’ll be waiting then. See you love.”

“See you!”

The call ended with their farewells. Just talking to her made him feel better. Opening the door to the dorms, he was met with his classmates doing different tasks. Everyone greeted him, he gave back his greeting while walking to his room. He took of his bag, leaving it near his desk, putting some comfortable clothing, he choose to clean a little.

Meanwhile, Y/n had finished getting ready to go to her boyfriend’s dorms. Todoroki’s classmates were all kind to her, she no longer felt nervous around them, not like the first time. Before going to their dorms she thought that they would hate her (Monoma’s fault) but they were all so funny and kind that she forgot about her nerves.

However, the nerves she felt that day were nothing compared to what she felt when her eyes landed in the silhouette of a big man with red hair, beard of fire, his presence overbearing her.

She knew who he was, it made her feel scared, angry, nervous, a lot of things mixed that prevented her from speaking.

However, her voice got out anyway.

“Um... Do you need anything? Endeavor-san...”

The pro-hero turned to see the girl. He scoffed at her presence. He chose to ignore her, taking his phone out to call Shoto. His calls weren’t answered though.

Her phone began rigging. Endeavor didn’t know what made him look at her screen but he did. Seeing his son’s name on her screen with a heart beside it gave him the conclusion that she was here for Shoto too.

“Who are you.” Y/n turned to look at him, his demanding tone making her forget that her phone was rigging.

“Um... I’m Shoto’s girlfriend...” She choose to look a away in fear of his reaction at her words. She don’t really know why she say that, she could have easily say her name, her anxiety was playing against her.

Endeavor scoffed at her words.

“Are you in Class B? You couldn’t even get in Class A. How did Shoto met you.”

Y/n didn’t know how to answer. The two of them feel in silence. Her eyes looking anywhere but him while Endeavor stared at her with a frown in his face.

Meanwhile, Todoroki knew that Y/n doesn’t usually take too long to get to his dorm. He began to worry for her tardiness. He got out of his dorm to see if maybe the girls from his class had held her back, it has happened before so it wouldn’t be a surprise for him. However, Y/n wasn’t in the common area with his classsmates.

The person closest to him right now was Mina, she was a good friend of Y/n so he decided to ask her.

“Hey Mina, did Y/n arrive here?”

“Hey Todoroki! Mmh, not really, I haven’t seen her all day.”

Todoroki nodded his head thanking her. Maybe she haven’t arrive yet. He chose to wait for her at the entrance.

And this is were his day just went to the trash. Is not a happy sight for Todoroki to see his girlfriend shaking because of his scumbag of a dad. His mood went down a lot more than in the morning. His expression turned into scowl almost instantly.

His steps turned more heavy and hurried. He could sense how Y/n was uncomfortable in the situation. Endeavor didn’t care about it, this single fact made Todoroki angrier.

“What are you sound here Oldman.”

Todoroki had stood in front of Y/n trying to get her away from Endeavor eyes. Y/n grasped his arm, she rest her forehead against his back trying to seek comfort and trying to calm him down.

“Shoto! Why is this girl from the lower class said she is your girlfriend?!”

“Because she is. And you won’t do anything about it. Goodbye.”

Todoroki left Endeavor in the dorms entrance without giving him time to protest. Gently, he guide Y/n to his room, not caring about his classmates questions about what happened outside.

“I’m sorry Sho...”

They were already at his room, the two of them were sitting in the edge of the bed.

Todoroki got closer to her, taking her face in his hands, he made her look at him in the eyes.

“None of what happened is your fault.” He left a kiss in her forehead. “You don’t have to worry about anything he says.” Leaving a short kiss in her lips he look at her again.

“Did you heard me?”

Y/n smiled at how gentle he was. She nodded her head, she rested her head in one of his shoulders for a while trying to forget about her encounter with the pro-hero.

“Y/n?”

“Mmh...?”

“Can we...” She turned to look at him, Todoroki had a little tint of red in his face. She giggle at his expression. Getting out of his grasp, she laid in his bed with her arms open for him to cuddle in her embrace.

Todoroki moved towards her. His head laying in her chest, not on a sexual way, he enjoys listening to her heartbeats, the soft tune made him relax and ease every worry in him. He closed his arms around her torso while Y/n moved her hands petting softly his bicolor hair.

“I love you Y/n...”

“I love you too Sho...”

The two of them stayed cuddling for the rest of the day. Happy to be in the arms of each other.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha todoroki #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #mha imagines #bnha imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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tryingmyves · 4 years ago

Text

Permanently Preoccupied

Ask: Hello and congratulations on your milestone!! May I request Shinsou and Prompt 16? I think Shinsou is oblivious when it comes to feelings, so I think this prompt would suit him, SFW please! @blossominglark

thank you so so much for your request! i feel like i’ve been writing for Shinso a lot lately... i’m digging it ☼ i hope you like this! the prompt is italicized

PAIRING: Shinso x Y/N (gender neutral)

c/w: none tbh

Send me a request! ► 60 Followers event

Like most people who come to UA, Shinso is focused and determined. Perhaps more so than you and your peers in the hero course. He had been admitted into General Studies after failing the entrance exam, however, it wasn’t because he lacks talent. Training would-be heroes is not an exact science and Shinso’s failure was not a result of his incompetence. Rather, his quirk was not well suited to tackling the mechanical targets. It’s unfortunate, but his failure is just a side effect of an imperfect system. However, UA is aware that as hard as they try, their testing is just not conducive to all quirks - even if those quirks and the students who wield them would make great heroes. It’s this reason, and Shinso’s performance at the sports festival earlier this year, that he’s been afforded the opportunity to transfer into the hero course.

But it’s just that, an opportunity - not a forgone conclusion. Shinso is well aware of that fact, and as such he’s resolved to do everything in his power to earn his spot among your peers in the hero course. Mostly this resolution means training with Aizawa and on his own when your homeroom teacher isn’t available, in addition to studying information from the hero course alongside his general studies work. Occasionally, Aizawa will bring Shinso in to participate in exercises with your class so he can get more experience. Many of your classmates attempt to befriend him, but Shinso is a bit unpolished. He is not nearly as gruff as Bakugo, but his temperament does not exactly welcome friendship. In fact, he had once said as much outright. To Shinso, anyone or anything that did not propel him towards his goal was a waste of time. And moreover, a part of him believes that he doesn’t deserve the friendship of others. He has always dreamt of being a hero, of making a difference, of putting a bit more good into the world. But he grew up hearing how he would make a better villain and he is permanently preoccupied with his past.

You don’t see that when you look at Shinso. You see the bags under his eyes, a declaration of his determination to prove them all wrong. His aloof disposition, really just a defense mechanism against more of the same comments he’s heard all his life. You see pools of possibility in his violet eyes, your head swimming with thoughts of him seeing you in the same way. The seldom few times he has spoken to you his voice felt like a memory of your favorite melody, a siren song coaxing your feelings for him further out into a deeper intensity. You never intended to get distracted with feelings for someone, especially one as emotionally distant as Shinso, but it was undeniable. You are in love with him. And though you will not admit it, everyone already knew.

It was the way you eagerly looked for him before your class started a training session, wishing he’d be joining you. The fact you always were the last to leave class, hopeful to pass him in the hallway as he came to see Aizawa. The light in your eyes and the raised octave of your voice when you speak to him betrays your feelings. Unbeknownst to you, everyone was aware of your feelings for Shinso, including him. Yet, you believe it’s your best kept secret and one you were finally ready to share.

You have been wrestling with these feelings for months now, and honestly, they were distracting you from your studies. You decide it would be best to just confess your feelings to Shinso. Either he would deny you or return the sentiment, but either way you’d finally be able to focus on your training. You find him in the woods on the school grounds, wrapped in his capture scarf, practicing as always. He looks so deep in concentration, you almost turn around, abandoning your plan. But instead, you take a breath, steeling your nerves, and step forward.

“H-hey Shinso!” you call.

He jumps slightly, surprised by your appearance, “hello Y/N.” There’s not much warmth in his voice, he’s just returning your greeting.

“Um, do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something,” you continue. Your hands are sweating and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks. You haven’t ever really been alone with Shinso before.

He drops the scarf in his hands, turning to face you, “What is it?” He doesn’t seem particularly interested in what you have to say, but he hasn’t asked you to leave.

“I - uh, see you’re practicing again,” pointing out the obvious, unsure how to broach the subject of your feelings. “I know that you’ve been working really hard to transfer into the hero course.”

“And I know -,” he closes his mouth suddenly, considering if he should continue. “I know you’re in love with me, and I’ve been ignoring you.” He says it without any real emotion. It’s more of an observation really.

You can’t speak, you’re too preoccupied suffocating in shock. He knew, and has for some time it seems. And he just let you long for him, ignoring you all the while. You finally manage to find your voice, a shaky “why?” is all you can manage.

He sighs, stepping closer to you, no longer looking you in the eyes. “Because, I think I might like you too… but, I don’t know how to do that. And I don’t have the time.”

You’re having trouble keeping up, should you be happy? Should you be sad? Was he returning your feelings or rejecting them? He’s standing directly in front of you now, still avoiding eye contact. You feel angry and confused, maybe even hopeful? Screw it. Your hands come up, grabbing either side of his face, forcing him to look at you directly. You lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips before dropping your hands and taking a step back.

Now Shinso is left in stunned silence, still processing the feelings of your lips on his, trying to decide how he feels. You wait for any response and are about to turn to leave, resigned to the fact you had just made a fool of yourself. Shinso catches you by the wrist, pulling you back to him, his other hand coming to the side of your face, fingers intertwining themselves in your hair. He places his lips to yours, this time slow and deep. When he removes them he rests his forehead against yours, “I would like to learn to love you, Y/N,” he says breathlessly.

#shinso x y/n #shinso x reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral y/n #mha #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fan fic writing #fan fic blog #ves answers #60 followers #event #by ves

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night-time-writing · 5 years ago

Text

The five times Bakugo and Shinso were almost caught and the one time they tell everyone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236678

Word Count: 3,110

The evening was quite peaceful despite the constant movement of the city around him. Katsuki took the time it took to get from the train station to his destination to think. Tonight was his and Hitoshi’s first real date. Katsuki had planned the night carefully, not that he would ever let Hitoshi know that. The two had been dating for around two months now but had decided to keep it a secret when they first got together. The discussion came from not wanting the class to pick into their relationship. They were both pretty closed off people, and they didn't want the extra’s opinions to affect their new, growing relationship.

They had yet to go on a real date so that the class wouldn’t find out, but they did hangout more outside of class. Despite Katsuki’s first thoughts, Hitoshi and him actually had a decent amount in common. They were both powerful and extremely determined and passionate about becoming a hero. They would both do anything to reach their goals.

Although they had their problems, they were both bull headed. Katsuki was quick to anger, and Hitoshi went silent when he was angry, which just managed to piss Katsuki off even more. However, they could balance eachother out. Where Hitoshi rarely took care of himself, Katsuki was all about taking care of your body. Hitoshi helped Katsuki pull his head out of his ass and stop judging people as harshly. In the time they had been dating, Katsuki had made a better relationship with Deku. After all, Deku was now one of Hitoshi’s closest friends, with his insistent need to bud into everyone's business.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside Hitoshi’s house. Katsuki knocked hard on the door to make sure the occupants would hear him. The door soon swung open to reveal Present Mic. his hair was down and he smiled brightly at Katsuki. Past Present Mic Katsuki could see an unimpressed Aizawa before Eri ran into the room and his face lit up.

“It’s great to see you Bakugo, Hitoshi will be right out.” Present Mic greeted him

Hitoshi then rounded the corner and Katsuki paused. He was dressed nicer than usual. They had both decided, evidently, to dress nice for their date. Hitoshi was wearing a nice pair of blue jeans and a purple button up. Katsuki was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a white tee shirt with a jacket.

Katsuki was aware of how nice Hitoshi looked, but quickly looked away. After all Hitoshi’s parents were standing right there, watching the two boys.

“Ready to go?” Katsuki asked as Hitoshi moved past Present Mic and stepped outside.

“Yeah, let’s go” Hitoshi turned around smiling and waving at his adopted parents.

“Have fun studying!” Present Mic called out to them as they walked away from the house. They both shook their heads at the man.

After they were a decent distance from the house, Katsuki reached his hand out and grabbed Hitoshi’s hand. Neither of them were great with physical contact and PDA, but they tried.

“Did you tell them we were going to study? Because you didn't attempt to look like we are going to study.”

“Nope. Hazashi came to that conclusion all on his own.” They both laughed lightly at that.

“Nice to know we don’t look like we would date each other. Perhaps the extras won’t put it together then.”

“So, are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“To get food” was Katsuki’s only response.

Hitoshi rolled his eyes and shoved Katsuki by running into him slightly, all while keeping their hands clasped as they walked down the street. Katsuki had planned the whole date, and kept the specifics from Hitoshi for fun.

After they got on the train and sat down Katsuki looked over to his boyfriend. Hitoshi looked more at peace then he normally did. For the first time that night Katsuki relaxed. He was no longer as worried about anyone discovering them, or worried that Hitoshi would hate what he had planned. Katsuki was just happy to be able to treat Hitoshi to a nice mean and hangout in a setting where they didn't have to worry about the class finding out.

Katsuki was pleasantly surprised that Hitoshi liked the little mom and pop joint that he took him to. When picking where to go on their date Katsuki put seclusion first. He found this small, hole in the wall, type ramen restaurant. It was small, locally owned, and not very popular. It was also far enough away from U.A. that it was unlikely that any of their classmates would go there tonight.

Once they got their food, Katsuki was in love. The food was so good, the restaurant definitely deserves to be more popular, in Katsuki’s opinion. Based on Hitoshi’s reaction, he agreed. Katsuki then made a mental note to come back sometime for another date.

“You should make the class ramen sometime” Hitoshi suggested as they started to get ready to leave. “Then we can see how you compare.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes as he placed the money on the table. He knew that Hitoshi was trying to bait him into complying by using his competitive nature against him.

“Only if you help. Those fuckers can eat a shit ton of food.” Katsuki often made dinner for the class since none of them were competent in the kitchen. They had since come to the silent agreement that the class had no say in what Katsuki made. There were too many opinions, with no way for everyone to get what they wanted and Katsuki didn't want to deal with it. Katsuki still hated doing all the cooking though because he had to make so much food. He still did it though because he cared about his classmates, not that he would ever tell them that.

“Deal” Hitoshi agreed. Katsuki knew the only reason he agreed was because they both knew that he was too much of a control freak to actually let Hitoshi help. Just as they got up and started heading for the door a familiar voice called out to them.

“Bakugo! Shinso!” Katsuki turned around to see Sero standing by one of the employee's only doors, waving at them as he made his way towards them. “ I didn't know you guys knew about this place. Isn't my mom’s cooking the best?”

“Your mom cooked the food?” Hitoshi asked.

“Yup! This is our family restaurant.” Katsuki silently cursed himself for finding the one restaurant that was owned by one of his friends' family.

“Shame you don't have your moms talent for cooking.” Sero just laughed at Katsuki’s words. Katsuki rolled his eyes at Sero. “Anyway, give my compliments to your mom. I gotta go, see you later soy sauce.” Katsuki then marched out of the restaurant. Hitoshi followed shortly after.

Katsuki was pissed that their date night was ruined by soy sauce face, of all people. He had just wanted to have a nice dinner, and then a calm walk with his boyfriend. A time where they weren’t worrying about being caught, before they had to make their way back to school. Now all that Katsuki could think about was how soy sauce saw them on a date. He was probably going to tell the whole class and they were never going to have peace again.

Katsuki marched down the street until he was a decent distance from the ramen restaurant. This is when he finally stopped to let Hitoshi catch up. As soon as Hitoshi was close enough to Katsuki he reached out his hand and grabbed Katsuki’s. “I really don't think he put it together, okay? He would have asked questions, so let's just do whatever else you had planned and enjoy our time together.”

Katsuki sighed. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Hitoshi’s lips.

“Very well.” Katsuki replied. He then led Hitoshi by their joint hands for a nice walk before making their way to the dorms.

In the end Katsuki was able to enjoy the rest of their date. They were gone longer than originally planned and they got back to the dorms after dark. All the lights were off in the commons which meant that everyone else had already gone to bed. So the two of them had to be quiet when entering the dorms just in case. Upon further inspection, the dorms seemed completely abandoned.

Hitoshi nudged Katsuki once they were near the couches. Katsuki looked over at him to see that Hitoshi was smirking at him.

“I don’t think anyone will catch us now.” Hitoshi said, pulling Katsuki in for a kiss. For a moment Katsuki forgot where they were. He forgot that a lot of his classmates were probably still awake. That Deku of all people, was quite likely to come down to get food from the kitchen. Instead he deepened the kiss before smirking and shoving Hitoshi over the back of the couch.

It was supposed to be a harmless fall, uncomfortable? Yes. However, he was supposed to actually land on the couch. Katsuki didn't expect Hitoshi to land on the couch, then quickly flip himself on to the floor. Katsuki definitely didn't expect Todoroki to then shoot up from the couch where he had apparently been sleeping.

Todoroki looked around, taking in the dark and empty common room. “I must have fallen asleep during the movie again. I wonder why they didn't wake me.” Todoroki barely looked at the two of them before heading up to his room.

Katsuki looked at Hitoshi as Todoroki got on the elevator. He had no clue if Todoroki put it together or if he honestly just didn't care. However, he knew that the whole situation was kind of ridiculous.

“Apparently we are horrible at being discrete considering the minute that we go out, we almost get caught three times. If you include my dads.” Hitoshi laughed, pushing himself up off the floor.

Katsuki shook his head and smiled slightly as the two of them went to the elevator and headed to their rooms.

After their date they decided to lay low for a bit so that the people that saw them on their date wouldn't get suspicious. That meant they were back to sneaking into each other's rooms when they wanted to be together. It normally wasn't a big deal to hard because their friends would normally leave them alone when they were in their rooms not wanting to be around others. As long as they had been social enough earlier in the day to meet their friends standards.

Currently the two of them were sitting in Katsuki’s room on his bed. Earlier they had been talking and playing video games. However, now they were just making out on Katuski’s bed.

Katsuki was so engrossed in the kiss that he didn’t hear the loud commotion outside his door. That is until his door banged open, hitting the wall hard. They were able to part and throw themselves to opposite sides of the bed, just in time for Kaminari to poke his head into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room Dunce face?” Katsuki yelled, getting up off the bed.

“A couple of us are having a Mario Kart competition and we wanted to know if you wanted to join.” Kaminari smiled brightly at Katsuki.

“Why would I do that? I wanted to be alone, away for everyone’s loud yapping.” Katsuki snapped.

“I would like to point out that you are currently not alone, you are hanging out with Shinso.”

“That’s because mind fuck over here knows when to shut up and get out.” Katsuki then pointed out the door. He directed Kaminari out of the room despite his protests. Katsuki then shut the door and then made sure to lock it this time.

“I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door. It’s a good thing Dunce face is as dense as a pile of bricks.” Katsuki looked over to Hitoshi. Hitoshi was smirking slightly at Katsuki. “What?”

“Mind fuck? Is there a double meaning to that one?”

“I’ll show you a mind fuck.” Katsuki smirked.

Katsuki was good on his promise and was currently in the kitchen making the class ramen. Hitoshi was ‘helping’ Katsuki cook. At first he did help, cutting up the vegetables and such, but now he was just moving around the kitchen trying to mess Katsuki up.

Katsuki was adding the last of the ingredients while shoving Hitoshi every so often to keep him from messing with anything. Usually Katsuki didn’t let anyone in the kitchen while he was cooking. He definitely wouldn’t let anyone in the kitchen if they were acting like how Hitoshi was. The only reason Hitoshi was allowed to stay was because Katsuki knew that despite his antics, Hitoshi wouldn’t actually mess up Katsuki’s food. Hitoshi knew how much Katsuki’s cooking matters to him.

Hitoshi went to steal the spoon off the counter, but Katsuki saw him from the corner of his eye. Katsuki moved quickly and was able to snatch up the spoon, elbowing Hitoshi before he began stirring the ramen. That is when Kirishima decided to pop into the kitchen.

“Everyone is wondering when dinner will be done. It smells amazing.”

“It will be done when it’s done. How many times do I have to tell you guys to leave me alone when I’m cooking.”

“But Shinso is in here.” Kirishima pouted. “Why won’t you let me cook with you, but you’ll let Shinso?”

“Because mind fuck can boil water without burning it, now get the fuck out shitty hair.”

“That was one time, and how do you expect me to get better if you never let me try?” Kirishima complained lightly as he walked out of the room. Not once questioning Hitoshi’s presence.

+1.

After Hitoshi excused himself from playing board games in the commons, Katsuki made sure to wait the appropriate time before he too retired to ‘his’ room.

“As much fun as this has been,” Katsuki said, rolling his eyes, “I’m going to go finish my homework.”

“Okay, goodnight Bakubro.” Kirishima called out as Katsuki walked away. Kirishima always said goodnight when Katsuki excused himself anytime after dinner, knowing that Katsuki would not be coming back down.

Kirishima was so aware of Katsuki’s habits, it was weird sometimes. The only other people who knew Katsuki so well were his parents, Deku, and Hitoshi. Since Kirishima knew him so well, Katsuki was surprised that he hadn’t put it together that he was dating Hitoshi. Or maybe he did know and just wasn’t saying anything. However, that was equally as surprising, considering Kirishima was horrible at keeping a secret and how loud mouthed all of his friends were.

Katsuki sighed before opening Hitoshi’s door. He shut the door behind him then walked over to Hitoshi’s bed and collapsed into it.

“Oh come on, they aren’t that bad.” Hitoshi laughed, turning his chair around to face Katsuki instead of his desk.

“They are that bad.” Katsuki refuted, glaring at Hitoshi. “Dunce face knocked down the Jenga tower five times while trying to build it to play the game. But that’s not what I was thinking about.”

“So, you didn’t come here to complain about your friends. That’s a first. You must want to complain about a different class member. Is it Midoriya, or Todoroki?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Neither, I was thinking about us.”

Hitoshi’s smile dropped at that. “Do you no longer want to be in this relationship?”

“No! That’s not what I mean.” Katsuki sat up, turning to face Hitoshi, and placing his feet on the ground. “I want to tell the class that we are dating.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Honestly they should already know based on the things they see, and if they don’t already know, then they are never going to be able to figure it out on their own. Might as well get it over with and tell them.”

“Way to make it sound like a good thing.” Hitoshi rolled his eyes. “But okay, let’s tell them. When do you want to tell them?”

“Why not now?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, like ripping off a band-aid. Why delay it?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes before getting up and holding his hand out for Katsuki to take. Katsuki took it and they walked to the commons hand in hand.

“Bakugo! Your back!” Kirishima greeted him happily. His eyebrow raised once he noticed both of their hands collapsed together.

“Mind fuck and I are dating, have been for awhile. That’s it.” Katsuki said with a huff.

The commons then fell into complete silence. The lack of response was beginning to worry Katsuki when there was a sudden crash. Kaminari had, once again, knocked over the Jenga tower. That is when the class got over their shock and the room descended into complete chaos.

Some of them were shouting out questions. Others were talking to each other, either about how in the world they were dating, or how in the world they missed the signs. Which students were which? Katsuki was unsure, it was to fucking loud to hear even his own thoughts.

“Wait, wait.” Mina said, loud enough to gain the classes attention. “None of you knew? It was so obvious.”

This only accomplished making the class angry and arguing that it wasn’t all that clear.

Deku then spoke up. “I knew. It was kind of obvious. Kacchan is very rarely soft and people tend to drive him nuts quite quickly. Yet he spends quite a lot of time with Shinso, and he stopped snapping at Shinso as much.”

Kirishima chuckled slightly. “Well I’m happy for you guys, as long as you guys are happy.”

The rest of the class quickly echoed Kirishim’s sentiment. In that moment he realized just how supportive the class was, and how happy he was to no longer have to hide his relationship.

Bonus:

“That’s it Hazashi. Hitoshi and Bakugo aren't study buddies.” Shota snapped at his husband.

“What do you mean?”

“They are dating, and have been for a while now”

“What? No way!” Hazashi looked at Shota with a look of utter confusion and disbelief.

Shota gave him the ‘Your being really fucking dumb’ look. Hazashi’s face then morphed into just confusion, mixed with a little bit of sadness.

“Why wouldn't he tell me Shota? Does he not trust me? Does he feel like he cant talk to me?”

Shota sighed and mentally prepared himself to comfort his husband for the rest of the night.

@bakushinrights requested this.

#bnha #mha #bakugo katsuki #shinso hitoshi #shinbaku #bakushin #hitoshi shinsou #katsuki bakugo

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 2

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Everyone turned to see Midoriya standing on the stairs to the beach, looking down at them. None of them, least of all Shouto, had ever seen that expression on his face before. That… flatness that almost rivaled his own.

Uraraka took a step forward. “Deku?” she asked, uncertainly. Suzuki, the commission instructor, threw his arm in front of her, blocking her path.

“Whatever that is,” he said, voice strained and low-pitched, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku. Saito’s quirk doesn’t allow for the subject to have an avatar in the dreamscape without a lot of practice. There’s another quirk at work here.”

“You need to leave,” said Midoriya, descending a single step. “Now.”

“It could be a result of his own quirk,” said Aizawa, who nonetheless had a hand on his capture weapon. “He’s had odd reactions to mental quirks in the past. Jumping to conclusions is illogical.”

“We have evidence Midoriya Izuku is working for the League of Villains,” said Suzuki, backing away from the stairs, slightly. “By the rules laid out in the standard—”

Shouto tuned Suzuki out, by now quite convinced that the man had nothing particularly meaningful to say, in favor of examining Midoriya.

It was Midoriya. Just, a Midoriya that was annoyed, defensive, and maybe a little offended with just a touch of something else. Which was a weird combination on Midoriya. Especially as muted as it was. Midoriya’s expressions, no matter what they were, were always so big.

“—I am recruiting you to aid this investigation and determine the League of Villain’s plans!”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll make you leave,” growled Midoriya.

Wow, for someone who was the embodiment of sunshine, he could be really threatening. Then again, sunburns were a thing, so maybe it wasn’t too surprising.

“You’re here against my will, after coercing me into allowing a quirk to be used on me. I want you out.”

“Eraserhead, I suggest you restrain this projection, whoever it belongs to.”

“I’m not going to warn you again,” continued Midoriya.

“I suggest,” said Aizawa, “that you listen to him. We can ask Midoriya about this when we’re all awake and not in his head. Like you should have done in the beginning.”

Midoriya tilted his head slightly to one side.

“I agree! This is very unethical,” said Iida, chopping at the air. “This is basically an interrogation, and Midoriya is a minor! You need parental permission!”

“Which, before you start talking about him willingly participating in this course,” said Aizawa, “he has explicitly withdrawn. Not to mention his mother signed those opt-out forms, so her permission is withdrawn as well.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am,” said Aizawa. “Take us out. This whole thing is illogical.”

“I can’t,” said Suzuki. “Saito is the only one who can shut down her quirk prematurely.”

“What?” said Uraraka. “There’s no way for you to contact her in an emergency? That’s really dangerous!”

“That’s not what Saito Yume said, either,” said Midoriya, flatly. “’The dream state persists until either I release it, the people involved break free, or eight hours pass.’ Implying that there’s another way to break free. One that you, by necessity, must know. So, leave. Or I’m going to start to defend myself.”

Suzuki took a deep breath. “I am here,” he said, “to complete a mission given to me from the Hero Commission. Your refusal to comply with the terms set out in your licensing agreements will be noted.”

Midoriya brought his head up straight again and squared his shoulders. His hands clenched. He was wearing gloves, Shouto noticed. Not the gloves that went with his hero costume, but work gloves. He’d seen the landscapers who worked at his family home wear something similar.

Why?

“Fine,” said Izuku. “Then I’m going to kick you out.”

“That’s impossible, you—”

“I know this beach very well.”

Abruptly, the pristine white sand was covered in towers of trash, separating Shouto from the others. Suzuki’s insistence that Midoriya was a spy had already had him on edge. This put him fully into battle-mode.

He dropped into battle stance, and carefully froze one of the trash piles in front of him, making an icy stair to the top. His first priority was to find Aizawa and his classmates and regroup. To do that, he had to get a better vantage point.

He jogged up the stairs, noting, absently, that he was now in his hero suit, not his school uniform. What had he been wearing before this turned into a fight? He hadn’t particularly noticed.

He reached the top just in time to see Midoriya bludgeon Suzuki with a piece of rusty rebar.

Alright. Maybe that wasn’t Midoriya.

Aizawa wasn’t fast enough getting around the piles of trash. He would have tried to scale them, but there was no safe place for him to grab on to. The piles were simply too unstable, too untrustworthy, too poorly shaped.

He arrived just in time to see Midoriya, or what looked like Midoriya, impale Suzuki with a pole.

Before his mind could fully process the problem child attempting what looked a whole lot like murder, he had him wrapped in his capture weapon.

Midoriya had the gall to look confused, if only slightly.

“Todoroki,” Aizawa barked, spotting his other student on top of one of the horribly dangerous trash mounds. “First aid, stat.”

“Yes, sir,” said Todoroki, making an ice ramp to glide down.

“Midoriya,” he said. “What was that?” Perhaps it was illogical to ask, but he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

“I was testing to see if he’d wake up and go away if he got knocked out,” said Midoriya. He made a tiny, not-quite-shrugging motion. “This is just a dream, after all.”

Alright. That was true, but it was still incredibly disconcerting to see Midoriya act so callously towards the life of another human being. Although he was unsure how many times Midoriya had hit Suzuki, and certain places of impact were less lethal than others, blunt force trauma, especially to the back of the head, could still be deadly.

There was the sharp report of a gun, and Midoriya jerked forward, blood leaking from some invisible wound to drip down his face. Then he vanished.

He turned towards that utter bastard Suzuki, eyes blazing, only to find him entirely encased in a glacier except for his head.

While Aizawa had been trying to train Todoroki out of reflexively encasing human beings in ice, due to frostbite, hypothermia, and other potential health issues, he was willing to let it slide. Just this once.

“I told you,” said Suzuki, teeth chattering. “That isn’t your student. And even if it was, he’s a traitor.”

“Sensei,” said Todoroki, “what are we going to do?”

“First,” said Aizawa. He didn’t get beyond that, because Uraraka was abruptly launched from behind a wall of trash, trailing a makeshift tether of salvaged bungee cords.

“Found them!” exclaimed Uraraka. “I don’t see Deku, though!”

“First,” said Aizawa, feeling exhausted despite technically being asleep, “we regroup.”

Toshinori was supposed to be teaching a third-year heroics course.

He wanted to be with Izuku at the Hero Commission training, even if he was retired, with only a retiree license to his name.

He was in the nurse’s office, getting his brain checked by Recovery Girl, because sudden debilitating headaches weren’t on the long, long list of symptoms he’d come to expect from his injuries and medications.

Chiyo was worried he might be having a stroke, an aneurism, or some other sudden, lethal, brain condition. She’d used her quirk on him at once, and the pain hadn’t stopped. She’d said that, at least, it should stop an aneurism from getting worse.

Toshinori hoped it wasn’t brain cancer. As far as personal abilities went, all he had going for him right now was brainpower and a stupidly high pain tolerance.

He closed his eyes against the bright lights of the room. Everything seemed too bright and blurry. Sounds warped oddly in his ears. The fabric of the bed underneath him felt gritty against his fingertips.

It was like he wasn’t entirely here.

Oh, the joys of hallucinations.

(Something like urgency pushed against the back of his mind. Whispered Eight, and help, and Nine.)

(Something was going more wrong than usual.)

He waited for Chiyo to step out of the room before he snuck out.

Izuku emerged from sleep with a choked gasp, heart racing, head spinning. Where-?

It took him several fraught minutes to get his breathing under control and recognize where he was. The room for the Hero Commission course. His classmates and teacher were sleeping next to him, as well as the commission instructor. What had his name been? Something with an S?

Thinking was hard. It was like his brain was occupied with something else and he kept having to nudge it back on track. It was like—

He shook his head, which pounded with the movement, distracting him further. He—He should—

What?

An odd sensation overtook him, and he found himself slowly, cautiously standing up. It wasn’t like Shinsou’s quirk, where his body was out of his control, but more like he was almost sharing control, somehow. Like he could, at any point, take control back. And he did, just to test the theory, stopping for a moment, his hand halfway to his backpack.

But that was hard, and he really wasn’t up for much in the way of decision-making, and the others were quite adamant that he had to get out now. They’d know. He trusted them.

They picked up the backpack.

Eight was coming. They could trust Eight.

The door slammed open. Izuku froze. Several heroes in costume and a man with a suit and a commission nametag stood in the doorway.

“Get him!”

Four moved so differently from Izuku. Precisely, like he knew exactly how his opponents were going to act, where they were going to be. It reminded Izuku of how Sir Nighteye moved.

In seconds, they were in the main hall, sprinting past crowds with the help of One for All. Izuku felt bad about leaving Aizawa and his friends, but they knew, they weren’t targets. Izuku was.

Izuku didn’t know how they knew that, how he knew that.

Parking lot. Streets. Alleyway. Rooftops. His UA uniform was too attention grabbing. They dropped his blazer behind one of the rooftop ventilation shafts and tugged off his tie. The button down by itself was less attention grabbing. There was nothing they could to about his pants. Alley again. The people chasing him could track his phone. They needed to get rid of it.

Preferably in a way that wouldn’t immediately tip their pursuers off to the fact they had gotten rid of it. Sending them the wrong way would be a good distraction, would buy them time.

They slipped onto a bus and dropped Izuku’s phone into a woman’s purse. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the change in weight for a while.

Six and Two were very good at this kind of thing. Not to mention One.

It would probably sound weird to an outsider, but it was comforting. The experience and care of the past users wrapped around him like a thick blanket, making it so that Izuku didn’t mind so much about his distraction, even though he wished he could help more.

He got off the bus. They needed to find Eight.

“Just so you know,” said Aizawa, several registers shy of conversationally. “If you’ve harmed my student in any way, I will do everything in my power to make your life a living hell.”

“Nothing here actually affects the mind of the subject,” said Suzuki, rolling his eyes. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t use Saito’s quirk.”

“Your information hasn’t exactly been accurate so far,” said Tenya, pushing his glasses up and frowning. Suzuki had, in fact, been fundamentally unhelpful. “In fact, I believe you have outright lied to us on several occasions.” He glanced at his classmates for support and did a double take.

Standing behind Uraraka, half-hidden behind a beaten-up old refrigerator, was Midoriya. A smaller, slimmer, younger Midoriya, who was wearing an ‘ALL M’ t-shirt, thick gloves, and… and an awfully large amount of rope?

He was also crying, silently, and staring at Suzuki.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. He pulled on the rope. The refrigerator came free, destabilizing the pile of trash it had been supporting.

It all came tumbling down.

Ochako managed to avoid most of the debris coming for her, and slapped most of the remainder, making them float with her quirk. Even so, by the time the dust settled, she was covered in scrapes, the pink fabric of her hero suit torn—

Wait. Hero suit?

Whatever, she was asleep, and the more important thing was to find Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa-sensei. They had been in the direct line of the collapse. She was pretty sure Deku had been able to get out of the way.

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

“Five-point touch activation. Seems to affect buoyancy of objects. Possible martial arts background based on movement.”

Ochako spun to face not one, but two small Dekus. The new one was, if possible, even smaller than the first and wearing a gakuran. He had a notebook spread out across his left arm and was writing in it at lightning speed.

“Hands are a possible weak spot, but a known one. Be careful of kicks.” Gakuran Deku’s words devolved into mumbling, but t-shirt Deku was still nodding, so he must understand.

T-shirt Deku also had a length of pipe. Ochako did not like where this was going.

Then again, the whole point of this exercise was to learn how to defend one’s mind. She couldn’t exactly fault Deku for doing just that. She dropped into a fighting stance and grinned.

It was nothing short of a miracle, Aizawa decided, that they hadn’t been killed yet. Then again, it was possible that Midoriya, despite his obviously altered and disturbed mental state, was still holding back against them.

Which was annoying. Because neither of the two small Midoriya-lookalikes was particularly strong. Nor did they appear to be using Midoriya’s quirk, despite the fact that Aizawa, Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki had no trouble using theirs. The problem was that they were terrifyingly intelligent, just shy of ruthless, and had an incredible home-field advantage in that they seemed to know the location and nature of every bit of trash on the beach and in that they could evidently make it disappear and reappear at will. They also avoided head-on combat whenever possible, letting the terrain do their work for them.

Fighting them was, in fact, like fighting someone with a quirk completely unlike Midoriya’s. With a fighting style completely unlike Midoriya’s.

And that made Aizawa wonder, because all too often, he caught Midoriya trying to replicate All Might’s style, and if he did that when he could be doing something more like this—

But this wasn’t the time for such speculation.

He pulled Todoroki away from a trap again (he evidently hadn’t yet grasped that Midoriya was attacking them), and then jumped away from a chain reaction caused by whatever Uraraka just threw.

Unless they wanted to spend the next hour being beaten up by the problem child… “We need to get somewhere he has less control over the environment.”

“Off the beach?” suggested Uraraka, panting. “He said—He said he knew the beach well, so…”

Aizawa nodded. That was good thinking. Where were the stairs?

“You need to leave!”

“We’re trying, problem child!” snapped Aizawa, and, miraculously, that made Midoriya hesitate. Aizawa pulled Todoroki towards the stairs. The others were able to follow on their own.

They made their way up, and as soon as they hit the top step the previously clear sky opened up and it began to pour. Aizawa was soaked through in seconds.

Wonderful.

However, the attacks—which had been relentless up until this point—stopped.

“We left Suzuki,” observed Iida.

Aizawa held back a groan.

“Who cares?” asked Todoroki.

“We do,” said Aizawa. “We can’t let him run around unsupervised in Midoriya’s head.”

“I think he might have gotten crushed,” said Uraraka. “He was still in your ice, wasn’t he, Todoroki?”

“Yeah,” said Todoroki. “Trash should stay with trash,” he mumbled under his breath.

“We have no idea how any of our quirks will function long-term in a dream,” said Aizawa, not addressing the trash comment because he honestly sort of agreed. “Nor do we know what his quirk is.” He sighed. “We may also have to consider that he is correct and Midoriya is compromised.”

Predictably, there was quite a bit of protest.

“He may also have other information regarding the situation at hand,” said Aizawa. “Which we need.”

There was a rattle among the trash heaps, and Aizawa turned to watch Suzuki drag himself out from under a mound of trash.

“You left me!” accused Suzuki, loudly. “You almost let that gremlin kill me a dozen times!”

“Well,” said Midoriya from behind them, where he absolutely hadn’t been a minute ago, “then maybe you should have left when I asked."

#bnha #long night in the valley #my writing #fanfic

61 notes · View notes

yoon-kooks · 5 years ago

Text

Love Note | jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, College!AU, a touch of mystery

Summary: When a stray pink notebook falls into your possession, you’re mildly disturbed to find the pages filled with a long list of popular students, their significant others, and how they got together. You can’t imagine what kind of twisted person would keep track of other people’s love affairs to the point of obsession, but you have one clue. The only person listed without a significant other is the campus heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. It isn’t until after an unlikely conversation is initiated that you begin to piece together the truth behind the boy and the notebook.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none

A/N: this is loosely based off the manga, death note 🤪

Love.

Sometimes you wonder what it takes to catch someone’s attention, to capture the fluttering hearts of those around you, to be loved without trying. You don’t understand. Why is it that average folks like you struggle to have even a single classmate ask for your number while the popular kids have a whole flock of fans vying for their attention? The divide between the popular crowd and everyone else almost feels unfair. The only logical explanation you’ve come to is that some people are blessed and others are cursed.

Cursed. That’s exactly how you feel after picking up an ominous stray notebook in the hallway outside of your psych classroom.

You had found it funny how everyone seemed to step over the notebook as not to trip, but no one thought to pick it up and return it to the owner. So after the rush of students emptied out of the halls, you scooped it up and examined the pink cover for the name of the owner. Instead of a name, you found the phrase “Love Note” written across the cover in black sharpie. You didn’t think anything of it until you flipped the notebook open and saw what you saw.

You should’ve never opened the book. Because now you’re stuck with it.

Your jaw falls until it’s dragging on the floor as you flip through the pages. The pages are all practically fill with the same thing, and it has nothing to do with the lecture you just came out of. In fact, it has nothing to do with school aside from the names of students listed in it.

Kim Seokjin & Park Jiyeon – a serenade with a guitar and cheesy lyrics

Im Nayeon & Kim Taehyung – bonded while failing chem together

Lee Hyeri & Kim Namjoon – partnered up during a marine biology seminar on crustaceans

Jung Hoseok & Min Yoongi – opposites attract

Written in messy columns and rows, you recognize a majority of the names as the popular faces on campus, some of which are in your class. You assume the name paired next to theirs is their significant other because the column after that alludes to how they got together.

You get the feeling you’ve picked up the belonging of some creep and seen something you shouldn’t have seen. Because who the hell would bother keeping tabs on other people’s love affairs. It’s none of their business and it’s certainly none of yours.

Just as you’re about to head toward the lost-and-found, the name at the very bottom of the list catches your eye. Jeon Jungkook. You wouldn’t have even spotted his name amongst the hundreds of others if it weren’t for the blank space next to his. In fact, his name is the only one written without another name next to it. But now that you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it.

You’ve never spoken to the boy personally, but everyone seems to know him. Many of your classmates signed up for your psych class just to be in the same vicinity as him. He’s handsome, funny, smart, and even quite kind from what you’ve heard. He’s the total package that everyone aspires to get a piece of. Even you are a tad curious to know what kind of witchcraft he uses to draw people in so effortlessly.

At the same time, you know your place. He’s popular, and you’re average at best. You’re not the type to approach him like all the other girls begging for his affection. And you know he’d never approach you either. That’s the curse that was bestowed upon you.

If you knew the boy or at least had the guts to talk to him, you’d surely bring the notebook to his attention. Because if your name were written and singled-out in someone’s creepy notebook, you’d want to know, too. You’d want someone to have your back.

That’s the only reason why you’re still holding onto the notebook and not freeing yourself of the burden. If you were to leave it lying around or at the lost-and-found, who’s to say someone else would be willing to do the deed in your stead. From what you witnessed earlier, no one was even willing to pick the notebook up.

So you’ve decided what you’ll do. At the next lecture, you’ll find Jungkook and slip the notebook into his bag without him noticing. In that way, you can rid yourself of the notebook once and for all while also giving the boy a subtle heads-up with what’s being written about him and his popular crowd.

The plan is fool-proof.

The next morning, you feel it in your stomach. The feeling of stressing way too much over something so stupid. But you can’t help but fear the thought of getting caught. You’d hate for Jungkook or any classmate to catch you sticking something so suspicious in his bag. What if they get the wrong idea and think you’re the creepy owner of the notebook? You can’t have that.

Still, you do have a sense of duty to uphold. Clutching the notebook in your arms, you walk into the lecture hall with the intention of going through with the plan. You’ll still try to sit behind him or somewhere in his vicinity, and if it seems to risky, you can always do what you do best: chicken out.

Glancing around the lecture hall, you realize you’ve made one fatal mistake. You arrived before Jungkook. Feeling like a goof, you slump into a random aisle seat and toss the pink notebook on the desk. You can’t believe you were worrying so much about getting caught when you couldn’t even execute the first part of the plan.

“Is this seat taken?”

You glance up at a finger pointing to the seat next to yours. The one pointing is none other than the boy you’ve been stressing over for the past 24 hours. How fucking convenient. But you know something’s up. There are plenty of other seats still up for grabs, and yet, he chose to sit right next to you? Unheard of. You figure it must be some sort of joke or bet, but you’ll take it. “No.”

“Cool,” he says, sliding his thighs through the walkway that’s always been too narrow for your liking. His duffle bag surely would have smacked you in the face if you hadn’t leaned back. When he finally settles into his seat, he deadass looks at your desk. “Cute notebook.”

Oh, you suppose that’s code for when a popular guy wants to take a picture of your lecture notes. But that’s too bad for him. “Thanks, but it’s not actually my notebook. I found it in the hallway yesterday and I’m looking for the owner.”

“Why not just bring it to the lost-and-found?” he chuckles. Now that you think about it, it does sound pretty weird, considering you don’t have the slightest clue as to who the notebook belongs to. “Do you at least know who the name of the person you’re looking for?”

“Not exactly,” you shrug. “But I figure it must belong to someone in this class.”

He gestures for you to hand it to him. So you do. All according to plan.

You watch as the boy’s eyes widen at the long list of names in the notebook. It’s only a matter of time before he sees a pattern and finds his own name written there.

“Is your name here too?” He continues to scan the list, page by page.

You shake your head.

“Does that mean you’re available?” The boy pulls out a pen from his backpack and clicks it.

“How’d you come to that conclusion?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Isn’t this like a list of all the couples at our school?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“Right, right,” he nods, twirling his pen. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to write my name in there, aren’t you…?”

“Not necessarily.” He sets the pen down and chuckles at you with a smile. “Sometimes it’s just nice to get acquainted with the people around you. You might be surprised with the kinds of people you’ll meet in that way.”

Ah, there it is. There’s the charm that has everyone swooned.

“It’s Y/N,” you say softly. Half a second later, the boy picks up his pen and starts jotting shit down. “Hey, I thought you weren’t going to write my name down.”

You watch as Jungkook writes your name out next to his along with the description, “had a cute conversation during psych lecture.”

“I’m testing a theory,” he says.

“What theory?”

“What if this isn’t a just a weird kid’s record of couples at our school?”

“What is it then…?”

“A matchmaking machine? Like, if we write down the names of two people and an explanation of how they got together, maybe they’ll suddenly become a couple? Like magic,” he nods. You nod along, though you’re starting to think the boy has a screw loose. “I saw something like this in an anime once.”

“You mean… Death Note…?” Aka the anime where a smartass finds a death god’s notebook that can give people a death sentence just by writing their name down.

“Oh, so you’ve seen it too?”

You nod.

“I guess I’ll let you in on a little secret then.” He gestures for you to come closer. He whispers into your ear, “I’m the one who started the Love Note.”

“You’re the creep who wrote all of this?” you whisper-shout in his ear.

“No, no, no.” He waves his hands in defense. “I just helped get the ball rolling.”

“Please elaborate.” Because you don’t believe him yet.

“A few years back, my friend wanted to get back into dating after a tough breakup. But he didn’t know what kind of a girl he was looking for.” Jungkook flips back to the first page and points to Kim Seokjin’s name right at the very top. “So I took a notebook, wrote Love Note on the cover, wrote Seokjin’s name inside it, hid it somewhere around campus, and left the rest up to fate.”

“Are you saying the girl, Jiyeon, was the one who found the notebook and brought it back to Seokjin?”

“The same way you returned it to me, Y/N,” he nods. “After they got together, they filled out their section of the notebook, tagged another friend, and hid it again for someone else to find. The tradition continued amongst my friends, friends of friends, people I didn’t even know, until it finally found its way back to me.”

You get it now. It isn’t one creepy person’s notebook. It’s not witchcraft or a curse. It’s a curious object passed from person to person to spark a conversation and a potential relationship.

“So who wrote your name in it? And why?” You’d like to think someone like Jungkook doesn’t need a silly notebook to help him find a lover.

“My pal, Jung Hoseok. He said I’ve been looking lonely lately,” the boy says, glancing back at the list of presumably happy couples.

“Lonely despite always being surround by people who adore you?” Sounds ironic, but you think you know what he means.

“They don’t adore me. Just my face,” he sighs. Damn, what a struggle it must be to have a face as handsome as his. “I was hoping whoever found the notebook might adore more than what they see.”

“Sorry, can’t say that I do at the moment.” You use a teasing tone, but you aren’t lying either. What do you know about Jungkook other than the fact that he’s popular with a pretty face? That’s all you’ve ever judged him by. “I’m probably not the person you were hoping for.”

“You are who I was hoping for, Y/N,” he tilts his head when he speaks. “Adoring me is a bonus, but more importantly, I just wanted to meet someone I wouldn’t have otherwise met.”

Someone he wouldn’t have otherwise met? It’s true. The two of you probably wouldn’t be talking if it weren’t for the notebook. “I guess I fit that part of the criteria,” you say.

“Exactly.” He smiles at you as the lecture begins. You suppose only time will tell if you’ll come to also adore the boy as he so hopes.

As days, weeks, and even a month pass, you still have the Love Note in your possession. Recently, however, you get the feeling as though that’s about to change.

“Hey, Y/N,” says a familiar voice as a duffle bag claims the seat two spaces down from yours. The owner of the duffle bag follows, stepping into the seat right next to you from the row behind.

“Hello, Mr. I’m-too-cool-to-squeeze-through-the-aisle-like-a-normal-person,” you snicker at your psych buddy. Ever since you discovered Jungkook’s association to the Love Note, he’s made it a point to come find you during lecture. A month ago, you’d been sitting alone, and you’d still be sitting alone if you hadn’t stumbled upon the boy’s pink notebook. So you can’t say you aren’t enraptured by the gesture.

He chuckles at your fancy nickname for him before throwing an arm around your seat. You feel his eyes on you as you casually open the Love Note and scan the list.

“How many of these couples do you think are still together?” you ask, looking up and accidentally catching him staring at your lips. The new lip gloss you bought must be working.

“I’m sure not all of them are,” Jungkook strokes his wise man beard. “But all the people I personally know from the list are still going strong.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“It’s the fate of the Love Note, duh Y/N,” he gives you a cute little pinch on your cheek. “Our names are written there, and we’re still together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but we’re not together together… yet.” You try your best to get the boy to take a hint.

“Well, if anything, the Love Note has the power to bring two people together who wouldn’t otherwise be together, right?” he says. “Because of it, I learned I like being around someone who’s honest, open-minded, and adores me for more than just my face.”

You can’t help but smile at his compliment. He’s too sweet for you to handle. “How can you be so sure that I adore more than just your face?”

“Because you’ve put up with me for a whole month,” he chuckles. “And because you sent me a drunk text the other night, confessing your heart out to me.”

“I did what?” You fumble to get your phone out of your bag and check your messages. Was it possible to get so drunk that you don’t even remember getting drunk in the first place?

“I’m kidding, Y/N.” If there’s one thing you learned in the past month, it’s that Jungkook loves to tease you. But if it gets him to smile like that all the time, you don’t mind being a little gullible. “I’m still waiting for a proper confession.”

You look into the boy’s big eyes and then back at the bottom of the list where both of your names are written. “Should we make it official then?”

“I’m already ahead of you.” Clicking his pen, Jungkook adds a tiny little heart to the end of the foreshadowing he had written a month ago. He then writes the name of his single friend Park Jimin on the line below, shuts the notebook, and hands it back to you.

After lecture, Jungkook pulls you by the hand and leads you to the building where Jimin’s class should be ending. As the two of you wait for him to walk out, you feel yourself gravitating more and more to the boy until both of your arms are latched around his. You never realized how much you love the feeling of having someone so close to you.

“Is this the one you’ve been smitten over?” The boy you assume to be Jimin points in your direction. You look to Jungkook for an answer.

“Yes, this is the one,” he says, giving your hand a good squeeze. “Now we just need to find someone special for you.”

“Like who?” Jimin asks. “I can’t seem to keep a relationship for over a week.”

“We might have a solution for you,” Jungkook says as you show the other boy the Love Note. And despite his initial hesitance, Jimin eventually agrees to partake in the tradition after seeing the effect it had on you and his pal.

“Should we leave it here?” you ask Jungkook after saying farewell to Jimin and finding a cozy bench to sit on.

“Are you sure you’re ready to let it go?” He smirks at how you’ve held onto what you had initially thought of as a creepy ass notebook. You nod. “Okay, we’ll leave it here.”

He helps you set it down off to the side, leaning in for what you anticipate to be the first of many kisses between you and him. Just before giving you a taste, however, he stops to examine the sheen over your lips. “Is that new lip gloss?”

You nod, prompting the boy to lean back. “It’s cute,” he says.

For a second, you just blink at him and he blinks back as though he wasn’t about to kiss you. Oh, you get it. He’s teasing you again.

Taking the boy’s hand, you make the bold move yourself, pressing your lips ever so softly against his. Just enough to give him a taste of the gloss you’d picked out with him in mind.

After teasing you some more for being so bold, Jungkook helps you up from the bench as the two of you head home. Leaving the Love Note behind, you understand now that the divide between popular boys like him and average folks like you was never a curse bestowed upon you by fate. Rather, it was up to you to take fate into your own hands and spin it in your favor.

That all began the moment you picked up that pink notebook.

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #btsboulangerie #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #jungkook fluff #jungkook college au #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #jungkook #bts #bangtan #love note

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banashee · 4 years ago

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It's midnight where I am, which means it's technically the 21st already 😁 Hi Folks, welcome to my fourth fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :)

@archivalpride

Archival Pride 2021, Week four (June 21-28) Prompts: comfort, childhood, research, missing scene, statement

The key words I've used here are comfort, research (and arguably missing scene depending how you look at it)

So, this wasn't supposed to get nearly as long as it ended up being. But I enjoyed wirting this a ridiculous amount, and I hope you can find a bit of joy, comfort or anything else you're seeking as well.

Please mind the tags and content warnings for this one! It’s quite a bit heavier than my other entries for the Archival Pride 2021.

Content warnings: - Trauma, Grief - PTSD / Panic attacks - violent canon death of a sibling - coping - Nightmares - Canon-typical violence - Canon-typical Clowns / The Stranger - Death of a loved one - Canon-typical violence and thoughts of violence - Past underage kissing between consenting teenagers (nothing graphic and very PG) - breif internalized Bi-Phobia in the past - brief mention of past Ace-Phobia - strong language - TMA season 3 spoilers, even though this story is set pre-canon.

Whispers in the Dark

The first time Tim meets Jonathan Sims is when he sets down a small cardboard box and a stack of files onto a desk. More precisely, his own new place at the desk he just got assigned.

Tim just started out with his new job and he smiles, even though he is barely holding himself together at this point. He hopes no one will ask too many questions - it’s not like he plans on telling anyone what made him seek out the institute in the first place. It’s way too personal, and way too much to handle.

So he’d lied in the job interview, spun some story about wanting a new challenge. Mr. Bouchard didn’t question it, and Tim would like to think that is because his CV and education are rather high quality, which he isn’t shy about. Not at all - he is proud of his achievements, and rightfully so. But Tim can’t shake the feeling that his new employer had looked at him oddly, like he knows something that no one else does. It had been deeply unsettling, and if Tim thinks too much about it, it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up straight.

Despite his gut feeling telling him something else, Tim decides to chalk it up to nerves and his… Current situation, so to say. He is more jumpy, more paranoid than he used to be, which isn’t surprising. He has seen things, lived through things that he wouldn’t know how to explain if anyone asked. But overthinking it won’t get him anywhere.

So, he puts on a bit of the show, something that looks like his usual happy-go-lucky personality. Loud, brash, flirty and wicked smart, just like he always has been. It feels incredibly fake to him, but then again, no one here knows him. No one has ever met him before… Before. They don’t know. They don’t know . None of them ever sees him when the mask falls, home alone, in a house that feels too big and too empty with Dany gone and - no.

“Don’t go there, Stoker, just don’t. Get through the day, see what you can find out and go home. Get back tomorrow, rinse and repeat. You can do this.” he tells himself and plasters on a smile that almost hurts.

As he sets down the box and his files, he greets his new coworker and desk-neighbor.

“Hi, I’m Tim, nice to meet you!” ( “be happy, sound happy, god dammit” he thinks, then reminds himself that this guy won’t know the difference.)

The man on the desk opposite of him looks up from his computer which he’d previously looked at with intense concentration. It seems to take him a moment to catch up, then he nods and there is the hint of a very small smile on his face.

“Oh, erm, hi. Welcome.” he says, like someone who isn’t used to interacting with too many people. And maybe he isn’t - Tim wouldn’t know. He almost moves on and accepts that he won’t get a name from his new desk neighbor, but then he hears him say,

“Jonathan. Jon is fine, too.”

And then, as if he never said anything, he focuses back onto the screen in front of him and starts typing furiously.

“Thanks!” Tim says, probably just a tad too loud and too enthusiastically, but he doesn’t get a response this time. Okay, awkward. He isn’t sure if Jon is ignoring him or if he just doesn’t realize that he is being talked to - judging from the very brief, first impression of him that Tim got, both options might be entirely possible.

As the days go by, they don’t interact a lot besides basic politeness and the occasional question or comment about something work related.

The first time Tim ever really talks to Jon, is when he witnesses the man climb a bookshelf in the library like a fucking tree. No kidding. Tim blinks, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a real, genuine laugh bubble up in his chest. What the hell? He steps closer, next to the large, antique bookshelf that his coworker is currently clinging to, pulling books from a shelf that is over his head still.

“Jon, hi.” Tim says, watching the scene in front of him unfold. This is not something he expected, least of all from the coworker who never seems to say or do anything mildly interesting. So much for the first impression - the second impression is something entirely different, and it is this very moment that Tim decides that he likes the guy.

The sound of Tim’s voice addressing him directly makes Jon turn his head.

“Hi. Can I help you?” he asks, brusk and matter of fact, as if there wasn’t anything odd about this situation.

“...I was going to ask you the same?” Tim offers, mildly amused as he finds himself kind of impressed when Jon manages to shrug with his hands full like that. While clinging to the shelf, because what even?

“No. Why? I’ve already got what I need.” Jon jumps down from the wooden board he’d been standing on, and it is only now that Tim realizes they’d been on eye level before. Now… Not so much. They never stood next to each other up until this moment, he realizes.

He’s only been here for about a week, but whenever Tim arrives at the office, Jon is already there, at his desk and working. He never gets up for lunch, only ever seems to leave the room to pick up or drop off books from the library, and by the time everyone else has left, Jon remains seated at his desk. If he wasn’t changing out his clothes, Tim would have been convinced that Jonatahn Sims simply plugs himself into a wall socket to recharge for the next day. Or maybe sleeps under his desk or something.

“Just… You know what, nevermind.” Tim has come to the very correct conclusion that he better just accept this as it is. It seems easier. Much, much easier than arguing with someone over nothing, even though Tim feels like punching a wall or two some days. But that is not his coworkers fault, and he doesn’t want to mess up the chance to get to know him because he is cute.

Tim doesn’t even question this train of thought anymore.

At some point in between meeting the man for the very first time and… well, this, he must have filed away the odd combination of grandfather cardigans, chipped dark nailpolish and neatly tied up hair, combined with that deep warm voice and decided that yes, this person is attractive.

To be fair, it doesn’t take Tim long to fall for people - it never has. He just didn’t expect to spend any time really looking at someone, now that his life has gone sideways in so many horrible ways.

Turns out he’d been wrong.

Finding something attractive about a person, no matter their gender or any physical attributes, is the easiest thing in the world to Tim. Ever since he can remember, he has enjoyed looking at people. Tim likes soft curves just as well as sharp angles, and has spent many many hours of his life getting lost in people's eyes. Sometimes, he’d caught himself staring when talking to a friend, losing himself in the depth of warm brown eyes with specks of gold, watery blue, light grey or green with specs of hazel and anything in between.

Tim vividly remembers a game of spin the bottle when he was a teenager and sat on the floor with a group of friends and classmates. Of course, there had been many dares to kiss someone, and he had happily taken them whenever possible.

At the time, Tim wasn’t sure about himself at all, because he’d only known that he finds people attractive, but all everyone around him had talked about was if you were gay or straight, if the question was even asked. Mostly, they just assumed whatever seemed convenient at the time.

No one tells Tim about the meaning of the word “Bisexual”, or even about the word itself until he is in college. But he knows how he feels, even though he is lacking the word for it for many years

Once he finds out, Danny is the first person he tells about it. Tim calls him that same night, sitting in a quiet corner of the dorm as he excitedly tells his little brother that he found a word to relate to himself and his feelings for other people.

“There are other people who feel that way, Danny. There is nothing wrong with me and there is a word for it!” he tells him in a hushed but excited voice, fumbling on a loose thread in a hole of his jeans. Those trousers have long been frayed into shreds but Tim refuses to part with them.

His voice is shaking with excitement, and he may or may not be holding back happy tears. This is a big moment for him, and because Danny is literally the best - not just because he answered his phone at fuck-o-clock in the morning when his brother called - he reacts with nothing but support.

“I might have a few questions, but I love you. No matter what. I’m happy for you.” he tells him, and in that moment, Tim couldn’t be happier or prouder of his younger brother.

The game of spin the bottle a few years earlier was the one of the first things that taught Tim that he finds many many things to be interested in and attracted to. It taught him that he is attracted to the many different ways people feel, and it hasn’t changed ever since.

Over the years, Tim finds himself falling in love quick and hard with a number of people, and none of them are ever the same. Each and every person is unique, in their looks and size and voice and feelings - and every single one is loveable just as they are.

“You do have a thing for certain types of voices though.” Tim thinks, and maybe that is the culprit here, now that he is standing in the library of the Magnus Institute and faced with Jonathan Sims, who looks up at him with one raised eyebrow. Oh shit, has he been staring the entire time?

Before Tim can think too much about it, or god forbid, overthink it, he hears his mouth blurt out without his brains permission,

“So do you want to come to lunch later? There is a café not far from here that I’ve never been to.”

Jon stares back for a moment, like this isn’t something he expected. Truth be told, he didn’t. But just when Tim starts thinking that he’ll decline, Jon nods slowly.

“Yes, I suppose. Just… Let me know before you’re going. I tend to, well, I tend to get lost a bit when I’m working and chances are I won’t notice how much time has passed.” he explains, and this is probably the first time he said anything personal besides his name.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll just put a giant sticky note on your monitor.” Tim offers him with a grin and wink, and as he turns around, he could swear that he catches a real smile on Jon’s face.

Tim actually does put a note on Jon’s screen though. As he was warned, all attempts to verbally get his attention have failed, so Tim scribbles a quick note for Jon.

The sticky piece of paper is bright pink and obnoxious, and all that Tim has written on it is “Lunch time!” in big bold letters, accompanied by a smiley face. He manages to walk up behind Jon, stick it right in the middle of his computer monitor and get back around to his own desk to gather his jacket and wallet before Jon squints at it through slim, rectangular glasses and blinks a few times before he remembers the conversation from earlier. Then, there is a small hint of a smile on his face, very similar to the one Tim caught in the library earlier.

He gathers his things and leaves the office with Tim, and the two of them walk next to each other comfortably as they make their way to the café.

Surprisingly, the lunch break together isn’t nearly as awkward as it could be, or should have been, really. Jon doesn’t talk much at first, and Tim has a feeling he himself is talking way too much without actually saying anything, just so his brain doesn’t drift off into the wrong direction. But then, it’s like the air has left his lungs and there is a minute or two of slightly awkward silence.

Then, Jon clears his throat and asks,

“So, did you know that snails can sleep for three years at a time?”

When Tim, surprised by the question, shakes his head, Jon starts talking about the topic in great detail as he fiddles with the edge of his napkin the whole time. Somehow, this of all things breaks the ice, and Tim finds himself to be able to breathe a little bit easier.

Even more so, he is enjoying this. He isn’t sure what he expected when he asked Jon to join him for lunch. Maybe it was just the urge for human interaction and to not be alone, which he supposes is fair enough. But he certainly didn’t expect random information about nature phenomenons. All Tim knows is that he feels better after their first break together, and after that, spending the break together becomes A Thing.

What he learns pretty fast is this: Jon is an info dumper when he feels comfortable enough to do so. As it turns out, Jon isn’t very picky with his topics, either. They range from science phenomena to weird, interesting nature facts and anything else that catches his interest.

Tim also learns that, if he is in the right company and being asked the right questions, he can hold monologues that could last for hours. He figures that one out when Jon drops a fun fact about 19th century architecture, and without thinking, picks up the loose end of the sentence and continues,

“Oh, yes, did you know that…” and thus, without even realizing it, Tim spends the entire lunch break talking about it - he is passionate about the topic, but he leaves out the details about the Covent Garden Theatre. It just hurts too much to think about, but other than that, Tim is excited about the topic. He gets so carried away and rambles on and on and on, he only stops when Jon and him get back to the institute. It takes even longer for Tim to catch up and realize that Jon just paid for both lunches while he went off on a monologue about Robert Smirke architecture. But when he tries to pay him back, Jon just waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, your lecture was very interesting, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

From anyone else, this might have been a dig - but coming from Jon, Tim knows by now, it is a genuine statement that makes him way happier than it should.

So, their lunch breaks together quickly turn into a tradition,

Tim isn’t entirely sure what is more surprising; the fact that he manages to get Jon to actually leave his desk for human needs like food and social interaction, or that the two of them are enjoying it so much.

Sometimes, they go to cafés or restaurants, trying out places that neither of them has been to before. It turns into them picking favourites, and then they become regulars at a small handful of places. Sometimes they simply go on a quick walk to pick up some food, other times they sit down and enjoy being out of the office for a little bit.

One day, Tim arrives in the office early, and he brings lunch from home for Jon and himself for the first time.

Tim has spent the previous night wide awake, unable to rest after a nightmare startled him out of a deep sleep. It takes a long time to get his breathing back under control, and very late at night, or very early in the morning, depending how you look at it, Tim gives up on sleep. After hours of useless tossing and turning, he won’t be able to rest, he knows from experience.

Cursing under his breath, he pulls aside the covers and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. Exhausted, both in a physical and emotional sense, he scrubs a hand over his face.

The memories linger, and Tim feels like his whole chest is pulled together with anxiety and grief. Seven months. That’s how long it has been since he found Danny sitting in his dark living room in the middle of the night, crying silent tears as he had no idea what to do besides be there for him and offer comfort. Seven months since he followed his younger brother to the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and had to watch him being torn apart.

Carefully, Tim forces himself to keep breathing as evenly as possible. In - hold - out - hold - in - rinse and repeat. His hands are shaking, and he tries to force them into stillness as he grips hard at the rumpled bed sheets.

Attempting to go back to sleep is useless, he knows from experience, and so he makes his way down into the kitchen.

This house feels too big, too empty without the presence of his little brother. He left a hole in his life, and even though it’s been months since Danny died, Tim hasn’t moved a single one of his possessions. Not yet - it hurts too much.

Despite having been alone for a while now, Tim is still careful to leave the lights out in the hallway, walking as quietly as he can in the middle of the night as if there was still someone around he could wake up with his movements. It’s a long standing habit, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever shake it off.

It’s only when he arrives in the kitchen that Tim switches on the overhead light. It flickers to life, slowly, and the small kitchen is tinted into a warm light. Warm and homely, like this house once was. Now, it just feels painfully empty.

With a long sigh, Tim makes his way to the sink and fills up a glass with water - his hands are still shaking and he spills a bit onto himself, but he doesn’t care. Caring about it is too much right now, so he focuses on draining the glass empty before refilling it again. He feels dehydrated, but given the night he’s had so far, it isn’t surprising.

“I need a distraction.” he mumbles, and soon enough, he’s raided the pantry and his refrigerator. Tim pulls out some pots and pans from the cupboard, scattering everything throughout his kitchen where it’ll be most convenient. The repetitive tasks of cooking have always had a relaxing effect on him, and soon enough, the room is filled with scents and aromas that make his mouth water. Even now, while he is absolutely miserable.

The casserole ends up being huge. It’s way too much for one person, even one with an appetite. But cooking for one after being used to there being someone else is hard - kind of useless, while you’re already at it.

Tim has had that problem ever since he’s been cooking on his own, but knowing that Danny will be back to join him again, freshly back from some cave diving or urban exploration or whatever other strange new hobby he’d found at the time.

Now, Tim is all on his own. He sighs unhappily. Cooking was a good distraction, up until he is painfully reminded that no one is there anymore to share it with. Not here, at least.

He allows himself a few minutes of quiet greif, seated at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a lukewarm cup of tea, sitting on the table by his side, almost forgotten.

By the time the sun is starting to rise, Tim is up and moving again. He has put the casserole in several plastic boxes and packs two of them into his work bag.

When he arrives at the office, way earlier than he usually does, because what is the point of staying home doing nothing, Tim places one of the boxes at the edge of Jon’s desk.

Jon seems to be mildly surprised by the early company, and even more so by the plastic box.

“Oh, Good morning... What is this?” he asks then, mildly curious.

“Lunch. I was cooking last night and it was way too much. Thought I’d bring some in to share.” Tim forces a smile along with the half-lie, if only to cover how tired he is. He needs coffee.

The “Thank you” Tim gets in response is equally surprised and genuine, and he tries very carefully to not interpret too much into it. Especially because their shared meal feels a lot more homely and strangely intimate that day. Getting takeout together or sitting somewhere is one thing, but sharing a home-cooked meal is something entirely different, he finds. He also finds that he doesn’t mind it.

Only a few days later, conveniently when every last bit of the casserole is gone, Tim finds a plastic box that isn’t one of his own sitting on his desk. Curiously, he opens it and finds it filled to the brim with homemade curry, rice and veggies. Even cold, it smells heavenly and makes his mouth water. Tim looks over to the desk opposite of him, where Jon is already typing away like he usually does, but when he looks up and finds Tim smiling brightly at him, he smiles back.

Something in his chest feels incredibly warm and fluttering.

One evening, when the two of them get out of the office equally late - Jon because he always does, and Tim because he may or may not have waited for him - they walk to the tube together.

In a spontanous fit of bravery and “Oh well, fuck it”, Tim carefully rechaes out until his own fingers gently brush against Jon’s as they walk. It’s dark outside, only illuminated by the countless lights that illuminate the shops and pubs and the sides of the street they’re walking along. Tim does so casually and carefully enough to be ignored or taken as a coincidence if needed be, just in case. But then his heart almost stops for a second when after a moment of stiffness, Jon accepts the offer and closes his own fingers around Tim’s.

His touch is light at first, but then his grip tightens a bit, warm and comfortably so, and it is clear that his heart is in it. Of course it is - the two of them have gotten close in the last few weeks and months. There might have been some wishful thinking on Tim’s end involved - Jon is not always great at picking up social cues, especially romantic ones.

“That’s fine though” he tells him later, “You’re a huge enough flirt to make it up for the both of us.”

Jon squeezes his hand, and Tim happily squeezes back as he keeps walking beside him, just a little bit closer than before.

He can’t help but smile. Something like happiness blooms in his chest, and even though they don’t talk about it the entire way, even though they keep holding hands when they sit next to each other in the tube, they remain this close all the way until their ways separate and they have to get onto a different line each. It feels right, and the sudden loss of touch as their ways separate makes Tim wish it could last - but turning back and running after the other train seems kind of silly now, especially since he’ll see Jon again the very next day.

This becomes A Thing as well. Touching, that is.

Holding hands, brushing along each other when they reach for folders or mugs or books in the library. Speaking of which, Tim has learned very quickly that there is no way to stop Jon from literally climbing high spaces to reach whatever he needs. As of now, he is long used to watching him scale a bookshelf or kitchen counter, much to his own amusement.

“Hold on tight, little monkey.” he tells him as he walks past, grinning from ear to ear, knowing full well that he can’t expect more than a scoff and,

“Oh, shut up.” as a response.

Tim keeps it up though - because it’s fun and he knows he’s allowed to get away with it. Which can’t be said for anyone else in the institute, not like anyone would have tried as far as he knows. But he is ridiculously proud of it nonetheless. Tim is still cackling to himself when he wraps an arm around the other man’s shoulders and keeps chatting away to him all the way back into the research offices.

He has always been very openly affectionate, with family, friends and romantic partners or those he’d fancied. It’s part of who he is, and if he is honest with himself, it feels good to have some part of him back that’s always been there. It helps a bit, and even more so since Jon not only happily lets him, he also leans back into the touch. Jon’s attempts at seeking out touch are a lot more subtle than Tim’s, at least at first, but he knows and recognizes it for the sign of trust and comfort that it is.

That afternoon, there isn’t much time to chat at their desks, but about an hour before they’re supposed to get off, a balled up piece of paper hits Tim’s hand, clearly coming from Jon, but the sneaky bastard isn’t giving indication that he stopped reading at all.

With a small smile, Tim opens the note. It’s not like Mr. Workaholic to pass notes on the clock, but then again, he has to give Jon credit for loosening up significantly since the day they met. Or, maybe warmed up to human company is more like it. (He very carefully tries not to think, or more like hope, that it's him in particular Jon has warmed up to so much. But then again, Tim has heard some of their coworkers whisper in astonishment that it’s completely unheard of that Jonathan Sims leaves his desk for breaks or in time in the evenings, let alone interacting with other human beings more than absolutely necessary. Tim also caught the rumors about the two of them being a couple - he’d almost laughed then. He fucking wishes .)

Tim unfolds the note and reads;

“I have a lot of leftover curry I made last night. Would you like to come over for dinner after work? - J.”

This has become A Thing, too. Sharing meals after work and sometimes on the weekends. It alternates where they go, but especially lately, they have preferred to go to either Tim’s house or Jon’s apartment instead of a restaurant. For one, going out to eat on a regular basis is expensive, but also, cooking together or eating the leftovers from a late night cooking binge is a lot more comfortable and homely.

Sharing a meal and oftentimes a couch with someone fills at least part of the void that Tim finds inside of himself. He is struggling still, but having another human being in his personal space, warm and alive and happy to be there, means the world to him. He’s feeling something again, something that isn’t constant fear or everlasting sadness.

They watch movies sometimes - it’s not exactly easy to find something that both of them like . Their tastes in movies are widely different from each other, so instead, they opt to choose obscure sci-fi movies or anything they can pick apart and make fun of. No horror - they haven’t talked about it, but this is one of the few movie-related things they are in silent agreement over.

Truth be told, poking fun at bad movies together is much more entertaining than watching anything the normal way.

They are stuffing their faces with snacks and complain at the protagonists for making very unwise or straight up unrealistic decisions, even in-universe illogical ones. They pick apart plot-points and anything that doesn’t add up while they share space on the couch, either holding hands or leaning against one another.

“Oh, of course, give me a break!” Jon grouses as he shakes his hand that is currently holding a few crisps at the TV, annoyed to no end, it seems. In truth, he is enjoying this. He enjoys this an awful lot, and so does Tim.

He laughs out loud and pulls Jon a little closer to his side.

“Yes, you tell the creepy alien why it’s mere existence even in this fictional universe doesn’t make sense, Love!” He eggs him on, and only realizes the pet name has slipped out of his mouth by the time he notices the deep blush creeping on Jon’s face. Oh shit.

“Now don’t say anything to fuck this up, for once in you life, just shut up!” Tim thinks to himself, carefully trying to remain as calm as he can. They’ve been holding hands for ages and they keep cuddling up on the couch - this isn’t anything unexpected, for heaven’s sake. Hell, if Jon were anyone different, they might have ended up in bed already, but Tim is aware that this probably isn’t going to happen anytime soon - or at all, if he isn’t entirely mistaken, based on the hints and observations. First and foremost the slow and careful way in which their relationship to each other is changing and developing, but then again, he knows what the simple black ring on the middle finger on a person’s right hand usually means.

Tim doesn’t ask though - he figures that if Jon wants to talk about it, he will do so eventually and at his own pace.

So, Tim doesn’t push anything and carefully waits for a response. But there isn’t one, or at least nothing verbal. Instead of saying anything, neither to Tim or about the movie, Jon simply scoots a little bit closer to him, leaning against him and doesn’t let go of his hand. Tim takes this as a win and leans his head against the tuft of long black hair that tickles his cheek.

Both of them relax in an instant, and if they end up falling asleep on the couch, legs a tangled mess and with the TV still on, well, the next morning isn’t nearly as awkward as it might have been once upon a time.

It takes Tim, way longer than it should to realize that, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t startle awake screaming that night. Company helps. It helps a lot. Just knowing that there is someone else, that he isn’t alone and doesn’t have to wake up to an eerily empty house anymore helps.

Tim doesn’t fool himself into thinking that everything will magically resolve itself - he knows it won't, especially because his research about the circus isn’t going anywhere yet.

Sometimes, he feels guilty. Guilty for not spending every waking minute searching for hints, searching for answers to the things that have taken his brother and traumatized him for life. The calmer, logical part of his brain is aware that it doesn’t work like that - he needs a break sometimes, needs the time to himself and spend it with other people…. And goddammit, he deserves to be happy.

Danny would have kicked his arse if he could hear him think this, would have told him to get a grip and do something that makes him happy. Because this is what scares him sometimes - the happiness, the times where he doesn’t think of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden or circuses and… Skin. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, but he can’t stop thinking about those memories sometimes.

“...Are you alright?”

Tim blinks, not having realized that he must have zoned out. He’s still on the couch, slowly waking up and with Jon tucked somewhere next to him. He doesn’t sound very awake yet, but there is concern in his voice as he fixes Tim with a very direct look.

“I- yes, just. Zoned out a bit there.” Tim shoots him his best bright smile, hoping he’ll be able to chase away the ghosts. At least for now. He sighs, and happily leans into the touch and hugs back when he can feel a pair of slim arms snaking around his waist. Jon doesn’t say anything, but he seems to pick up that something is bothering Tim. And much like him in emotional situations, Jon doesn’t know what to say. So he remains close and thankfully, this is exactly what Tim needs right now. Just being close to someone he cares a whole lot about, feeling their heartbeat near his own. Being held for a bit. He squeezes Jon in silent gratitude for being there, and hopes he can get across what he can’t say.

It is Saturday and they have a whole weekend in front of them. After they peel themselves off of the couch, they stumble off to the bathroom after one another and then to the kitchen in an attempt to fuel themselves with tea and breakfast. It’s painfully, beautifully domestic.

While he is keeping an eye on several pans on the propane stove, Tim is chatting away about something - he isn’t exactly sure himself, except it is something pointless that distracts him from his earlier train of thought. Jon and him are laughing and joking while they drink tea and prepare breakfast together. But after a while it looks like Jon wants to say something, stops himself, and then more of the same all over again.

Eventually, Tim can’t watch him struggle over it anymore and straight out asks,

“Hey. What’s going on in that fuzzy head of your’s?”

It’s true - both of them still have a severe case of bed-heads, and Jon huffs at the question and tries to smooth down a few of the stubborn flyaways around his face. Only very mildly successful.

“I… Was going to ask something.”

“Alright? Shoot.” Tim very, very carefully swallows the joke he was about to make in the end - if this is going where he hopes it might, he doesn’t want one god awful pun to be part of the memory of it. So he waits.

Jon seems to be bracing himself, and then he turns around to face Tim.

“I would like to kiss you. Is that okay?” he asks. A simple question, and yet - it means so much. Tim smiles at him, heart beating out of his chest as he steps closer to Jon.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

There are only mere inches separating them. Both Jon and Tim cross the last of the distance at once, hands searching for each other. Their fingers are interlacing tightly as soon as they touch, and just a split second later, their lips meet for the first time. There is no rush, nothing in this world that would get them to hurry anything up at this moment. Slowly, they kiss again and again, tasting faintly of the tea they had earlier, but even more so, it feels like comfort. Maybe even a little bit like home.

A quiet happiness settles deep into them, and something seems to click into place. They are happy, and there is nowhere they’d rather be than anywhere, as long as they can be together.

After a little while, their hands let go of each other, but only so they can pull one another closer. One of Tim’s hands is cupped around Jon’s cheek, thumb gently stroking over the soft stubble while his other arm remains wrapped around him, hand resting at the small of his back. Jon on the other hand, has to angle his head up a bit due to their height difference, but he doesn’t mind that at all. Both of his arms are wrapped around Tim’s torso, and if it was possible, he would like to remain like this forever.

Unfortunately for the two of them, life has other plans.

When the smell of something burning registers with the two of them, they regretfully break apart cursing and laughing as they quickly remove the pans from the heat.

“That was - good lord, why now of all times?” Breathlessly and more than a little high from happy brain chemicals, they try to get a grip on themselves and on the situation.

“Just like our luck, isn’t it?” Tim is joking, of course, but still. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

“This better not become a habit.” Jon glares at the charred eggs and smoking pans as if they personally insulted him. He’d been having a good time, but of course something had to happen. Oh well.

“We’ll just have to make up for it.” Tim winks at him, grinning widely. He doesn’t mean much by it, and he only realizes how that might have come across when Jon awkwardly clears his throat and says,

“The kissing? Yes, absolutely. Other things… Well, most other things, actually… Not so much. I erm, I should have said that before now, I suppose. But, I’m Asexual.” he chooses his words slowly and deliberately, like he is trying to say them exactly right.

Tim looks into his eyes, bright green and shining with happiness, but now, there is something else creeping into them. Self-doubt, insecurities - Tim isn’t sure, but he wants to do his best to make the doubts disappear - and apologize for his big mouth.

“That’s absolutely fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that - I wasn’t implying anything else, I promise.”

Slowly, Jon nods, visibly relaxed now. He asks,

“So… We’re good?”

“We are. More than good actually, if you ask me.” Tim finds himself smiling again, which is something he’s been doing so much more lately. Then he tucks away a strand of hair from Jon’s face and kisses him again, just as gentle as before. He is happy to find that he returns the kiss in an instant, pushing close until the two of them end up pressed up against the kitchen table. After they break apart again, they remain standing in an embrace.

“I like you, Jon. I like you a lot. I love being around you and with you, just for who you are. Yes, I enjoy sex, but I don’t need it. So if you don’t want to, that is okay and it doesn’t make a difference to me. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He nearly says, “I love you” but that might be a little early - saying it too early has ruined his relationships in the past, and although what Jon and he have is something different, Tim doesn’t want to risk it.

But as it turns out, he said the right thing. Jon looks a lot more relaxed than before, and he keeps a loose hold around Tim’s hips.

“Thank you, Tim, that’s… Very reassuring actually. I’ve been with people who reacted quite a bit differently to this, so” Jon shrugs, but it is clear that this isn’t a happy memory.

“I appreciate you.” He adds, and Tim pulls him a little bit closer.

“I’m sorry. These people fucking suck.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” Jon smiles, and pulls Tim down for another, longer kiss. It feels just as intoxicating as before. Then he tells him,

“And, just for the record. I like you a lot, and spending time with you makes me very happy.

The giddy happiness stays with them - being freshly in love and being freshly together is exciting. It is a feeling Tim will never get tired of. The thing is, being together with Jon doesn’t change a whole lot - they are still on opposite desks from each other at work, they still spend their lunch breaks together and Tim actually manages to get Jon to leave the office at 5pm these days, instead of late at night like he did for the longest time. They still have dinner together most days and they often spend their weekends together. All of these are things they did before, but now, it still feels… Different.

Then of course, there are the casually affectionate touches throughout the day. They’d like to think that they’re being more discreet here, but then again, at least Tim has never been shy about throwing arms around people or bumping shoulders or anything like that. In fact, people would probably get concerned and suspicious if he stopped doing any of it.

The point is: they keep it down to normal levels at work, but they seem to be glued together whenever they’re off the clock. Whether they hold hands, hug, kiss, bump shoulders, hips, arms or hands, or sometimes simply nap stacked on top of each other, they are always touching in some way. Both of them soak up the contact like sponges, and they know without having even talked about it in detail that they spent quite a bit of time lonely and touch starved before… This. Their relationship.

Waking up with one another in the mornings is probably Tim’s favourite part of all. Holding onto each other with their legs tangled together, hands searching for warm skin to rest on and heads pillowed on each other's shoulder or chest. Sharing breaths of air - all of this feels wonderful and intimate in it’s own way, and he can’t get enough of it.

Waking up in the morning is a peaceful thing. But some nights, unfortunately, are not. Both of them have nightmares on a regular basis. They find that they generally sleep better when they are not alone, and having someone to hold close or bury into when the lingering horrors hit, helps significantly.

Some nights, it’s Jon who startles awake in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving as he frantically looks around himself until he realizes where he is, or until Tim wakes up and mumbles quiet reassurances into his hair as he holds him close until the tremors have calmed down.

If they’re lucky, they manage to fall back asleep after a while, but if not, they simply stay awake, cuddled up under soft blankets and they just talk. Their topics of conversation vary widely, ranging from silly, lighthearted distractions to things they did or experienced in their past, as well as heartfelt conversations that are about much more than just that.

Tim himself has his fair share of nightmares as well, ever since he lost Danny. And even though having Jon close by and being held at night helps to keep them at bay sometimes, there are still nights where he startles awake either screaming or crying or both.

The first time it happens, Tim wakes up terrified and tangled in the sheets. His shirt clings to the cold sweat that is running down his back and his breath comes out in irregular, shaky bursts.

A dimly lit circus arena, old and dusty with centuries of dirt. Tim can’t move. It’s like he is rooted to the spot, and yet, his legs won’t stop shaking. He is shivering from the cold - no surprise, since he ran out in nothing but his pyjamas earlier, and this place is surprisingly freezing for a hot August night. Tim can feel the cold, but more so than anything, he is absolutely terrified.

He wants to scream, to run, do anything but stand here - but it’s impossible. The crumpled form of his brother - or the Thing that pretends to be Danny - sits motionless and hunched over, no matter how much Tim tries to call out for him. Not a single word leaves his throat, even though his vocal cords hurt from the strain he’s been putting on them. But Danny doesn’t hear him - can’t hear him.

From out of the shadows, Tim can see… Something. It looks like a clown, but it’s wrong. Too long, too folded up to be human. It drags itself across the floor slowly and grotesquely, like a creature from a horror movie, up until it stops. Unlike a movie creature though, this is very much reality.

Breathing is hard, and Tim wants to force his body to move, but still, there is nothing he can do. Part of him wants to believe that this… Place, this Thing is influencing his ability to move somehow, but then again, he might just as well be paralyzed by fear.

The clown moves forward, right towards Danny. As it unfurls itself, it is clear that there are smears of blood all over its face, red and bold and dripping wet.

“Shall I?” it asks, with a voice that is playful in the worst possible way. Too happy, and way too sinister. Tim can’t even answer, still unable to talk or move or do anything, but he can feel the bile rise in his throat. He wants to grab Danny and run, but knows he can’t. He wants to scream, cry or throw up, anything but watch the scene unfolding in front of him.

None of this happens though.

Instead, Tim is forced to stand motionless and helpless, watching in agony and horror as the clown moves much more quickly than he could have anticipated. It’s not as much that he can actually see the movement, but Tim can feel it. He can feel the breeze of air on his face, and just a split second later, it has removed the entirety of Danny’s skin. His limp, bloody and bare form slumps forward, and it is only then that Tim actually starts screaming.

He is screaming his head off, loud, desperate and terrified. Tim is shaking like a leaf. Breathing is impossible, and it takes him way too long to realize that in order to breathe, he needs to calm down for just a second. It takes even longer for him to realize that he is at home, safely in bed and long out of this situation. But Danny… Danny is just as dead.

Between ragged, forced breaths, Tim is curling in on himself, unable to register that Jon has woken up and is talking to him in a low, concerned voice. He tries to get his partner to calm down at least a bit, afraid he’ll end up hyperventilating from panic.

Tim doesn’t register any of it. He can’t make out Jon’s gentle voice trying to bring him back, doesn’t register the light, careful touch on his arm in an attempt to soothe without scaring him further. Tim curls himself into a tight, shaking ball without noticing any of it.

After the first initial panic, there is a brief moment of silence, but after that, he breaks. Ragged breath turns into uncontrollable, hiccuping sobs and it is only then that Tim realizes the familiar pair of arms slipping around him in a protective embrace. He uncurls just enough to be able to hug back and let Jon slip closer to him, which he does as soon as humanly possible. Tim clings onto him for dear life as Jon curls himself around him in what must be an uncomfortable or at least awkward position, but this is the last thing on his mind. All Jon cares about right now is making sure that Tim is okay, or at least, as okay as he can be.

Their bodies are pressed flush together, tightly enough for them to feel each other's rapidly beating hearts hammering out of their chests. Tim tries to focus on that, tries to focus on the carefully even rhythm of breath that Jon attempts to get him to follow.

His presence is constant, warm and comforting. Tim can feel his weight on top of himself, the hold of his arms around him. Strands of hair and warm breath on his neck are a familiar sensation as well, something he’s been getting used to lately. Even more so, it is something that Tim loves and associates with home by now. And while the fear and pain caused by his nightmare are still very much lingering, he is able to relax in order to calm down eventually. Slowly but surely, a little bit over the course of - he doesn’t even know how long.

Time has lost all meaning at this point. It might take him minutes or hours to breathe normally again, and at some point, Tim realizes that the steady stream of talking, besides the quiet attempts to comfort and assure him, are actually bits and pieces of random information. Anything to keep talking and keep up a steady presence, Tim supposes, but he is eternally grateful for it. He shifts a bit, arms still wrapped tightly around Jon, although he’s stopped clinging as much by now. He stretches out a little bit without letting go of their embrace - everything hurts from holding himself so tense for so long. Then Tim pulls the both of them onto their side so they can cuddle properly.

Gentle hands keep running through his messy mop of purple hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp. Tim leans into it, soaking up the touch like a sponge. He’s stopped shaking now, he notices, and he registers a lot more sensations than he did before.

Little sounds around the house, wind outside, the occasional car. Most of all, he registers all the different little touches from Jon, and the way he keeps talking to him even now.

After a while, he leans in to kiss Tim’s forehead, thumbs wiping away a few stray tears. It seems like the worst of the storm is over by now, but Jon stays close. He’s never seen Tim in such a state, and it worries him to no end. At least it looks like he isn’t in severe panic anymore.

“Do you want to talk?” Jon asks quietly, but all Tim can manage is shake his head. It's not like he could talk right now if he tried. He doesn't trust his voice, knowing it will break, which is probably going to set him off again and he's not ready to face that.

Maybe, a part of him wants to talk about what happened. Sure, it is going to hurt regardless, whenever he decides he is ready for it, but there is no doubt that it will help to get it off of his chest. But Tim doesn’t know how he is supposed to talk about the horrors he's witnessed. Where would he even start? How does he explain all of it without sounding - well.

“That’s alright.” Jon tightens his hold around Tim as he shifts a little bit, without letting go, so he can rest his head on top of Tim’s. There is a quiet, almost suffocating sadness radiating off of him, and even though he doesn’t know what happened that got him into this state, Jon offers him all the support he can, in any way he knows how. Physical touch seems to help a lot, thankfully. That, he can do forever.

“I’m here for you. Whatever it is you need, I’m here.”

The sun is starting to rise on the horizon, but Tim and Jon remain in bed, wrapped up around each other just like before. Birds are starting to sing outside, even before the first rays of the morning sun tint the room into a low light.

“I love you. I’m here for you, and I love you.”

Notes:

#Archival Pride 2021 #Banashee writes #tma fanfic #JonTim #the magnus archives #tw trauma #tw death #tw blood and violence #mind the tags and CWs please

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selfwriting-sugarquills · 5 years ago

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Something more infinite (George Weasley x reader) ch. 3

Chapter 3: Sticks and Stones will break my bones, and so will you because you knocked me off your broom, you maniac!

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 (final) |

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: Light swearing, TW: broken bones, injury.

In the midst of the busy O.W.L oriented fifth year, you were so grateful for flying lessons. At this point you were being buried in books and assignments to the point of having to reduce your prank wars with the twins to the weekends only (which was easier to carry out now that they’d seemingly lost their map sometime over Christmas). As the snow began to melt away and the spring was coming along, so were the exams and you had so much on your plate you were afraid you’d choke. Flying lessons were a breath of fresh air, literally, since they were spent away from the dusty halls and classrooms out on the grounds and on the quidditch pitch, which was where you were now. Madam Hooch understood that her fifth year students were more than fed up with information from all their other subjects and since flying was not an exam subject, she’d softened on your class during this late afternoon class. She’d allowed you to part up into teams and play amateur quidditch games in a mini-quidditch cup.

The students from the houses decided on their teams quickly, since only the most competitive students were up for playing, the rest of the students seemed to welcome this chance of sitting still and concentrating on something that wasn’t reading for 90 minutes with open arms. The teams were mixed houses, and originally when it had been announced that the lesson was going to be spent on quidditch, you’d planned on sitting back and zoning out so hard you’d forget where you were, maybe take a nap, either way, you were not intending on playing.

At least until George and Fred Weasley loudly joined a team. There was a sort of hush over the conversation, Madam Hooch called out for a chaser for the team opposing the twin’s team. No one wanted to play. People were well aware of the twin’s affinity for quidditch, even you had to admit that they were talented beaters, and you fully understood why none of your classmates were particularly interested in facing off with bludgers sent by them right before the end of year exams. So how you managed to volunteer yourself was unknown even to you. But there you were, on a broom, ready for take off. George looked positively giddy, and you wished you’d volunteered earlier as beater. You’d love to have a bat to retaliate with. You don’t show it, but the knowledge of George’s skills as a beater, and the fact that you don’t have a single way of keeping yourself from being hit by an iron ball pelted towards you is your flying skills makes you a little nervous. You’re not a bad flyer, but you’re not on the quidditch team for a reason. You try to brush off the fear as Madam Hooch blows her whistle and starts the game. The game isn’t as high speed as the offical quidditch games, since most of the teams are just regular, extremely exhausted students, which you’re thankful for. You do your best to keep up and actually manage to almost score before the bludgers come at you. Fred seems to be targeting people at random, mostly trying to get players away from the goal posts, but George only seems to have eyes for you, even when you don’t have the quaffle. Luckily for you, you manage to dodge the bludgers well enough by attempting to stay far away from George, though this doesn’t seem to make him focus on anyone else. When you assist in your team scoring and a bludger zooms by your ear so close to your head you nearly fall off you broom, you become fed up. You speed towards George,

“Would you fuck off?” You yell at him, he grins back at you, he hasn’t even broken a sweat yet while you can feel how flushed your cheeks are, same as the rest of your team, for some reason this makes you even more annoyed,

“Why? I’m just doing my job?” he replies,

“Y/n!” Someone yells and suddenly there’s a quaffle being thrown at you which you catch. There’s a split second which feels like an eternity where you and George look at each other, then he looks at the quaffle and a smirk appears on his face which genuinely makes you uncomfortable. This is not the same expression he’s worn whilst tormenting you in ways that could easily be described as childish teasing. No, this smirk is pure malice, and you know all too well what he plans on. The second long eternity ends and you speed off, swearing under your breath. You’re never volunteering for a game of quidditch against George again. First a bludger attempts to knock you off your broom but you’ve seen that coming so you do a spin and avoid it, what you haven’t expected is George appearing at your side, trying to push you away from the goal posts by blocking you. You’re used to him blocking you in general though, and you’re not having this. You’re not going to let him win. You don’t care what it takes; he’s not defeating you. Even if he has to knock you off your broom. And he does have to, because when you push into him in an attempt to signal “hey, I sort of meant that ‘fuck off’ thing I said earlier.” He pushes back. And there’s a slight error in your calculations, because you’ve forgotten that George is not only taller than you, he’s also stronger. A lot stronger. His shoulder knocks the wind out of you as you try to stay on your broom, hold on to the quaffle and not steer into the spectator stands. But you’re still hanging on. You’re not down yet. So you decide to push back again, and before he can knock you off your broom you dive underneath him, in an attempt to escape on the other side of him, if you could do that you could score. Here’s the thing though: George notices what you’re doing, from the years of playing quidditch, he’s become quite good at recognising manoeuvres before people even do them, and you’re a beginner, which means your moves are obvious. So as you appear on the other side of him, before he even registers what he’s doing, he spins and kicks out, as he would in any regular quidditch game, his foot knocking you off your broom in a swift but forceful movement.

And everything seems to slow down as you fall, letting the quaffle go. You don’t register anything as you fall, other than the very notion that you’re falling and then the conclusion that if you’re falling, you’ll probably also land. And you just sort of hope you won’t die or break anything too important. You do land, on the sand, with a thump that shakes your bones and reverberates through your every cell. Your vision blurs as everything happens very quickly and very slowly at the same time. In this blurry version of the world, people land around you in slow motion though they seem to appear by your side almost instantly. Madam Hooch’s voice is ringing in your ears. Someone asks if you’re alright. You feel yourself nod, then wince as the pain registers in your shoulder and arm. Then the rest of your body follows suit. Madam Hooch and some classmates help you stand after checking in to see if you’re able to stand. To your own amazement you can, and as you do you lock tearfilled eyes with George’s.

George wished he could describe the way he felt in that moment as he saw you fall off your broom. It had felt like shock and victory combined into a strange slush of stomach dropping, heart soaring and nausea. It had taken him the remainder of the day to conclude that he hadn’t really meant to knock you off your broom. He didn’t know what he had intended on doing exactly, though. Most likely, he thought, he’d just wanted to win over you. To have another thing to rub in your face. And he supposed he did have that now. Only, he didn’t want to rub it in your face. He actually didn’t want to see you at all. Because for the first time ever, George felt something different inside him at the thought of seeing you. Something akin to the way he felt when he’d broken his sibling’s things on accident as a child and had to face them when they found out, something not unlike when he’d play-wrestled Ron and knocked one of his teeth loose, something like….No, George thought to himself, he was many things, but George was not feeling guilty because of you. He couldn’t be. Right?

Sure it had been unfair of him to underestimate his strength and of course he’d felt bad when you’d broken your collarbone and arm in the fall. He’d even considered seeing you in the hospital. He knew how horrible it was to drink skele-gro, after all. He hadn’t seen you though, he figured he was not the person you wanted to see. Besides he’d felt that weird need to avoid you. And avoid you he did. For the first time in almost three years, George Weasley had actively stayed away from you. He’d skived off the classes you had together, had sat far away from you in the great hall, often with his back turned to you, he’d simply done a 180 whenever he’d seen you in the halls or at the library. And this bloody feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t going away, which had kept him plenty busy with all the extra time he’d had from skiving off. The feeling had almost completely consumed him at this point, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He woke every morning with a strange expectation that a howler would come from his mother, spend the few classes he had left in the school year awaiting McGonagall or even Professor Dumbledore himself to show up and pull him aside to scold him. He’d wandered every corridor with a feeling that he was trespassing when he had every right to be there. And he was sick of it. A small voice in his head told him to just apologise to you, but that little voice had no idea what it was really asking of him. Apologising to you would mean he’d have to lose face to you, and for some reason George would rather have his fingers hexed off one by one than be vulnerable in front of you.

When he did see you it was in Hogsmeade on the last visit before the summer vacation began. He’d been at the three broomsticks with Lee and Fred, celebrating that they were officially done with exams and studying. He’d been chosen to go order their drinks on the argument that he was the one closest to the bar. And as he’d been waiting on his order, he’d heard your unmistakable voice behind him. Turning around to face you, he noticed your arm enveloped in a cast, he’d heard the story in snippets from passersbys and offhand notions: complicated break, waiting list for st Mungo’s, weeks to recover completely. Every word had added a pebble to the pile of boulders in his stomach. You looked up at him and almost looked surprised to see him. He figured you would. It had been almost two months since you’d been face to face like this. coward another voice whispered in the back of George’s mind. He shrugged it off.

“Oh,” you say, “Hi, Weasley,” your e/c eyes have a certain gleam in them, he’s well aware it’s not from him, he’s heard you’ve done well on your exams despite the broken bones, he figures the gleam is from pride,

“Hi,” he replies dryly, say something, anything, say you’re sorry just speak dammit, George, “Nice cast,” he manages a smile but on the inside he’s curling into himself with horror, “want me to sign it?” as he says it the gleam in your eyes disappears, and the usual sour expression you wear when you speak to him paints itself on your face. To his own astonishment, it doesn’t bring the joy it usually does, it makes him feel sort of sick, actually, say you’re sorry, the voice begs again.

“You can sign your bank information, and I can send you the bill from St Mungo’s if you want,” you turn back to the bar, looking at a menu that you’ve already ordered from, “doubt you’ll be able to afford it though,” you say, slightly softer, and the weight of the boulders of guilt inside him becomes painful, he hadn’t thought about the cost of getting your bones fixed, and as an extra weight, you were right, he couldn’t afford to pay it. So he doesn’t answer. You glance up at him with a challenging gaze when he doesn’t but he just bites his lip to counter the pain inside him.

“Three butterbeers, Weasley,” Rosmerta says, placing the drinks on the bar,

“and three butterbeers and a soda for you, L/n” Rosmerta holds onto the tray with drinks, “Oh don’t worry about it, dear, let me carry the drinks to your table for you,” she says and sets off towards the table where your friends await you,

“I guess I’ll see you next year, Weasley,” you say, “and don’t think the arm is going to stop me from kicking your arse if you knock me off a broom again,” you grin at him, and a wave of elation runs through George at the sight of you grinning at him. It tells him that you’ve not resorted to hating him fully, at least not in a different way to how you hated him before. You were rivals, yes. But George would never consider you an enemy. Not that you were friends. He didn’t like you. He didn’t think he liked you, either way.

“Y/n?” The word slips out between his lips as your back is turned to him, he blinks a few times, trying to figure out what to say, you stare at him with an expression that seems to say “go on?”

“I’m-erh- I’ll see you next year,” he says.

taglist: @schlongbottom @cardboardbenmazzello @unseensilver @mochamiilk Let me know if you want to be added :))

#does the wizarding world have free healthcare?#many questions I have #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley series #Fred and George #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #harry potter #hp #george weasley fanfic

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jjkpls · 5 years ago

Text

crayons ‘dul’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 3.7k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

> next

It doesn't take Mr Kim too long to find a way to meet you.

A week or so later, Adrianne is handing you a little post-it where her curvy cursive spells his name, with his phone number and a time. He says he'll bring Jimmy early to school in two days, to contact him if it doesn't work for you and that he cannot wait to talk to you again. This last part you wouldn't bet on the accuracy. Adrianne says he stuttered his way through a mumbo jumbo of English and another language she didn't recognize, apologizing because he didn't know how to express what he meant but from what she could gather, he was excited to have this meeting about Jimmy.

He arrives two days later, right on time. Not a minute early nor late, perfectly on time and if you don't point it out loud, you still notice it with a discreet smile.

They both look perfectly relaxed, smiling for the man and rather calm for the boy. It's funny to see him now. Mr Kim looks pretty much nothing like the first time you saw him, with the worry, the low-key panicked, agitated state he came bursting in your classroom. He looks a few years younger, with an easy grin stretching full rosy lips, dimples digging deep in his roundish honey cheeks -almost the same as his son's, you notice with delight- wearing a straight maroon coat, this time well adjusted, that's making him even taller and more elongated if possible and of which the shade compliments his complexion endearingly so.

"Hi. It's really nice to see you." You end up greeting him first, as warmly as you can.

You've been pondering over this meeting for so long, time feeling like it never ceased to stretch out and felt dreading, dreading, dreading. It was never coming soon enough and you were terrified, even if you had no reason to doubt Mr Kim's honesty, that he'd bail on you for whatever reason.

But here he is, seemingly so open to discuss and after installing Jimmy at his desk with the same tools as last time (a pile of white sheets waiting to be filled and your set of crayons) you join him a few tables away (far enough for Jimmy not to be exposed to the conversation but close enough to keep an eye on him, or more accurately, for him to keep an eye on his guardian), pressing your hands together and against your bosom to try to contain my excitement.

"As I told you last time, Jimmy is a very sweet boy. He's not doing bad with the exercises and activities, it's quite surprising -in a great way!- since from my understanding English is not his first language, right?"

"Yeah, no, it's uh- it's Korean. We just moved from Korea a few months ago, well, right before he started school. But we- my- her mother and I would try to talk to him a bit of English at home to have him pick up on the basis..."

"Oh, that's nice! Children that young do learn languages particularly easily, it's definitely beneficial for him. I can already tell."

Namjoon sends a glance his way, a fond, dad's proud one lingering on his tiny figure hunched over the desk. You can't quite tell from where you sit but it does look like he's started drawing.

"Had you planned moving here for a long time? I mean, was it the plan from the start, that's why you wanted to teach him English?"

"No, not really." The mood feels different. It switches from rather tranquil and cheerful into a very heavy, uneasy silence his deep voice hardly disturbs. There's a glint in his eyes. It's not an easy one to look at and your heart stings as the glint takes over his whole gaze hovering over his son. You understand it's something sad. Probably painful and hard to carry even for such a strong-looking, shoulder-broad grown man.

You don't want to push it. You're curious, as one gets, but too decent and you know yourself to be too soft-hearted and sensitive, for you to be snooping through sad people's luggage. But you think back about Jimmy, whose curious eyes, beautiful but wide with something reflecting like a perfect mirror what you can now find in his dad's, and you're certain that his odd behaviour must come from that.

"Mr Kim, the reason I wanted to see you," You start, voice quieter. He's startled for a second, redirecting his attention back on you, and he looks a bit guilty. As if he highly suspects, if not already know full well, where this is going. "I do meet all the parents of my students, as I told you. But in the case of Jimmy, if I was so insistent, it's that I'm really concerned about him."

His eyes draw downwards, staring at his hands. Long slender fingers fidgeting with one another, pinching and twisting a bit. I wonder if like his son, he might start crying.

"He's lovely but he cannot- he has had a really hard time uh- how could I put it?" You don't want to sound too alarmist. You know parents have the tendency to freak the fuck out for the misinterpretation of one single word. Sometimes an onomatopoeia, misplaced, send them into a raging spiral of anxiety over what terrible condition their kid might be dealing with. Not all parents are insane or simply too quick to jump to conclusions -or plain stupid. Some understand, whatever words you use. The father sitting in front of you seems worried and pained enough you wish you could protect him but you need him to understand that his situation is serious, and how important it is for Jimmy to have the tools to change now, while he still can, before he gets too old and start to take all those unfortunate coping mechanisms as lifelong terrible habits. "He's had a hard time simply being a kid." Namjoon sighs deeply. "He doesn't speak to anyone, not even me. Hardly looks at his classmates, never approaches them. I've noticed also that talking is not the only issue, any form of expression, if not made to do because it's in the course and all the other children are doing it too, he simply won't do." Mr Kim has raised his head enough for you to see him. He's troubled, upset, worried. But he seems to want to show himself more involved and you can tell he is, you can tell he cares as he listens so carefully as you explain in great details the odd incident with the papers and the crayons he refused to play with, even without a soul to watch over his shoulder.

"I feel it's a bit more than simple timidity. Or that at least, there's something significant behind this timidity. I can understand that it might be sensitive to you," You do, his eyes are screaming at you and you can't ignore them. Sort of begging for something, you're not quite sure what, you're not quite sure they, themselves, know either. It's a terrible case of a grown adult, an apparent composed grown man with a mighty balanced life, not a child anymore, actually, a dad, appearing so vulnerable and broken. It's a horrid vision. You've never been able to handle those.

"But it's in Jimmy's interest that I know a bit more. It's quite concerning. He's at an age where he's supposed to develop those skills. If we just let him be, leave him in this... unease, whatever it is, he might adopt it for a very long time until the time comes when it's become an exhausting challenge, almost impossible, to overcome.”

"I understand what you're saying." Mr Kim starts, voice low and tiny I can hardly pick up on the words. "I noticed- I mean, he's not changed that much with me. He's never been a very loud, boisterous boy, you know? But lately, he's been a bit quieter. I can see it at home, he's a bit stoic, less... expressive." You lose the man for a second. He's staring at his son longly and you don't want to abruptly bring him back to the conversation. Eventually, he does come back on his own, clearing his throat and scratching his neck. "That's- ridiculous but I even told myself the other day that I miss his tantrums. He didn't use to throw a lot of fits but sometimes he would, for more candies or something stupid like that. But he hasn't in a while."

You can't count how many times you heard overwhelmed parents jokingly wish that their kid would just turn off, stop causing scenes, stop demanding, screaming and crying out ridiculous tantrums. You remember Adrienne, saying more than once, to chastise the behaviour of one too agitated child to take a look at Jimmy, learn to be more like him, and why can't they be like him.

The thing is, a child is not supposed to be quiet.

A child should be problematic, testing, challenging. Loud and cheerful and agitated because children are like that. They are little humans just starting this whole insane experience that is Life, trying to figure themselves out, trying to figure out the people around them and the whole world along with it. They're meant to be a mess.

They're not meant to be quiet and tranquil, and bathing in a sort of slow, stoic haze. They're certainly not meant to have this expression on their face. The one Jimmy is wearing. Of deep, deep sadness. Like he's been somewhere, he's felt something, he's lost something that has left him misplaced forever. As if he's not really part of this world, this Life, or doesn't care or know why he's in it. Just letting himself float about. Embarrassed and denying all impulse that could potentially shape him and his existence.

He's only five.

"Do you have any inclination as to why his behaviour has turned into this?"

You see the gears going into labour in his head. He looks pensive, lost in a pit of thoughts he doesn't know if he can nor should share. There's a tremble to his lips, to his fingers, a telling frown to his eyebrows as his eyes very obviously decide to avoid you. The question seems to seize him like an earthquake but somehow, it's a good one. A disturbing but potentially lucky one. One that would invite him to experience something hard but liberating, something that he really needs.

Not long after you've asked the question to which you already know half of the answer, he pauses to think it over and then decides to talk. You notice the way his body slump over himself instantly, along with an abyssal years-old sigh and he starts to talk.

"5 months ago, my- his mom passed away." You hate yourself for the way you gasp, eyes wide and already blurry as if it's appropriate, as if you're allowed when you can't even imagine the beginning of their pain. It all starts making sense and you're heartbroken. You wish you didn't show yourself so reckless, sensitive but somehow naive and unhelpful.

You mouth a silent apology and condolence you notice he accepts from the way he nods, not wanting to cut him off. He's already breathless and you wonder how many more words he has in stock before the resources shut down, right before he loses it and breaks the strong persona he has to keep straight and steady for his son. How exhausting it must be. "It was hard already in Korea but I thought -naively- that if we moved here, close to her family, maybe, being around them would ease- everything out a bit. I don't know. It was stupid." He shakes his head from left to right, scoffing to himself, a hand raised to his forehead, hiding his eyes.

"It wasn't, Mr Kim. It's very honorable of you to quit everything for your son." Your words have no effect whatsoever. Unfortunately, it's blatantly obvious, he's made up his mind already. He's guilty, he messed up, and he holds a grudge against himself for this decision and nothing a dumb teacher, sensitive and half-weeping, would say could change that opinion, as destructive and inaccurate as it may be.

"It really was. It's so different here, I thought after some time it would be worth it but I think he hates it. I think he's very confused and I don't know if he's too young to feel like that, I'm not sure, but he looks like he's embarrassed about being a foreigner. Like not speaking properly. I can't even tell if he understands well or if he doesn't get it at all when people speak to him in English since he just- he can't really communicate. Even with his cousins, it's-"

Oh.

"Oh." Now that you hear him say that, it lights a small bulb hidden at the back of your head. It shines upon a whole roof-tall shelf holding all of those awkward, disagreeable memories you tend to forget actively because even reflecting on them decades later still sends a thrill of disgust the length of your spin.

It's those moments of pure embarrassment, of horrid dreading feelings that you used to be overwhelmed with as a child and this until you were not much more of a child anymore, and those memories paired with their emotions simply faded into shadows of scenes that you can only wonder if they ever were real.

You used to be filled with stupid insecurities based on very confused, distant, impossible to decipher pretend truths, sometimes, you would just feel stupid. Completely idiotic, ignorant, and unlovable. In those moments, you just couldn't dare open your mouth to pronounce a word that would give you away. Because if you did, somehow, you would end up messing up and people would laugh and make fun of you and hate you because there are so many reasons to and of course you deserved it.

Images of the little boy, hiding obviously in a corner but longingly observing his peers. Obviously terrified but curious, and most definitely desiring.

Because of course, he'd want to. Talk to them, be with them but how could he when he's not even sure he could speak the way they do.

"Mr Kim, I can tell he wants to. Even if he can't let anyone approach him, I can tell he'd like to be part of the group. That being said his fears or as you said, maybe his insecurities, don't allow him to."

"Should I- Should I seek for a therapist? He had one in Korea but I don't think he was ready for it. He just reacts very badly to strangers, especially when they try to, you know, sink into your brain and- now that we're here, I can hardly picture how that would go."

"Well, therapy is never a bad idea. It can only be beneficial for him... for anyone." You're not sure how appropriate it is for you to add this but you owe to say it. Sometimes, parents don't realize, but a child's deepest wounds are born from seeing and feeling their guardians'.

"I'd seen someone already." He explains without needing you to insist further. Seems like you're not as subtle as you thought yourself to be. "I did because- I had to. His mom and I had been separated for a while before her passing, it'd always been complicated between us and I can't lie, I did feel terribly guilty... I thought it might hurt him somehow. Maybe he could feel it and experience it too. I had to for the both of us. It fixed me but not him, so I suppose, it didn't come from that."

"Grief is... It's very complex. It comes along with a plethora of confusing, untamed emotions as an adult but for a child... It must manifest in a way we can't even imagine. I'm sorry, you don't need me to tell you that." You're a mess of stutters. Words are running away from you, the smart ones are even flying, making sure there's no way you'd catch them by the tip of the tail. You just want to ease this father's struggles, somehow. You don't know him much but you know his son, a little, and you, for reasons you don't care much to look into, deeper than simply you having a saviour complex, need to help it all resolve. They don't deserve any of it all. No one does.

It might be silly. But the thought of Jimmy, that sweet, lovely child, sensitive and precious as he is, must have a father quite special himself to have been brought up this way.

"No, it's fine. You're right." A heavy silence settles in between you. In the background, faintly, you can hear the soft rustling of the tip of a crayon against paper. You open your mouth, the fantastic memory of the other day, when he arrived late to pick Jimmy up and something you still, a week later, recalling itself back to you. He opens his at the exact same time and before you're able to utter any word, he's the one starting, "Actually, I really appreciate it. Being able to talk about it like that with someone. Since my therapist, I don't think I was able to. People only have enough tolerance for other's pain. Which I understand, it's just- hard and well, I'm thankful for you."

He stammers saying that, seemingly scrambling with his own words. The compliment is so heartfelt, like a shot from his heart directly into yours. Most of the emotions it rises probably coming from his choice of wording, maybe an error of translation, a lack of exactitude that doesn’t come smoothly. You've never heard anyone said those words to you and somehow, so unprepared for it, you can hardly handle the overwhelming burst of gratitude.

With the greatest pleasure, you jump on the occasion to bring something good to him, what you meant to say when he started first, the story about last time and how confident you are that better days are yet to come.

It brings an evident brush of light to his expression. The youthful sense he gave off when he just walked in, made of warm colours and smiles, is back. As if a weight has been lifted. As if he trusts you with his son, now wearing his hopefulness and trust and appreciation on this soft face of his, and you feel yourself blush in delight.

It’s precisely why you do what you do. Most of the times, those moments come in more subtle, almost dubious manifestations. It’s a drawing made ‘only for you, Miss’ or a kid you haven’t seen in a few years recognising you from across a hallway and beaming all his teeth your way; or maybe a present too nicely picked out and wrapped up too well to be the product of a kid’s, handed to you at the end of the year.

It's a wonderful feeling you're experiencing.

Until it turns sort of awkward. You mean, from a third party, maybe from Jimmy's eyes, it’s definitely awkward. It doesn’t exactly feel this way for you though. You're just kind of staring at each other, grinning obnoxiously. Delighted by the turns of events -even more so with the start of the conversation, which brought difficult painful shocks to an already sensitive soul, the benevolence and mutual understanding feel all the more pleasant.

Conquered by each other in a way you probably won’t be able to express very well with words if any of you tried. You see in him an ally -which is always such a wonderful feeling because as curious as it is, all parents are not always reliable allies to you, teachers- and you think he does too.

It’s just that it lasts for quite a bit. Probably too long. Until finally, the rummage going on outside brings you back to earth and school that is about to start in a few reminds itself to you.

Quickly he thanks me again, in between the bursting in of a loud, chatty-feeling Riley Donovan, and a Charlotte dragging her feet in discontent. He says something about meeting again before he’s rushing to Jimmy, whose calm demeanour has wavered when his classmates starting walking in.

It’s as heartwarming as last time. The way Mr Kim just has to lean forward to wrap his arms around Jimmy to have him melt onto his chest, face burying in his neck and tiny hands squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until the chubby fingers turn white against his dad’s neck. There’s an exchange of secret words and of gazes, special ones that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, you believe on the moment, until Mr Kim needs to depart and does so.

The gaze Jimmy had for his dad doesn’t disappear right as the later leaves. It remains and is directed solely on you in a very peculiar way, so notable that your heart starts racing when you notice.

Jimmy who usually avoids eye contact, sometimes would look at you, if you're addressing directly to him for example and those looks are systematically made of bewilderment, maybe fear, definite insecurity. Like a prey caught in a predator's radar.

But now those eyes, the round, dark wonders are lingering with something utterly different. A stillness that hits so differently. You're not sure if you are seeing things, if it’s wishful thinking. If it’s you now watching through the lens of someone beyond enchanted, purely content from the newfound trust and confidence and inspiration.

When you free your class for recess, you have confirmation that something has changed. You have no idea how he did it without you noticing but as you turn your back to the door to face your desk -and your chair, which your legs are dreading to have you throw yourself on- you see the perfect tidy pile of your crayons laid carefully on top of it. A few papers are sitting next to it, less than you gave him.

It’s ridiculous, embarrassing to an extent you would never tell that moment out loud but you end up jumping on the balls of your feet, clapping your hands together like a stupid seal, squealing before grabbing the stack of crayons and pressing it to your heart.

A/N : thanks so much for having waited for me so patiently; as always, lots of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

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