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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 3 years

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

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

Warning: In character cussing from explodo boy.

Summary:

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

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

Words: 10.9 k

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

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

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

The door slammed open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve never done this before?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alas, it only lasted exactly 33 seconds.

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

“I made ice stairs from my balcony.”

“Like how Elsa did?”

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

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

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

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

Shouto face palmed, dragging it down.

“What?” Bakugou barks.

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

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

“That’s not how it’s-”

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

“But I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just like Elsa’s, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s mine.”

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

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

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

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No thanks to someone.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Stole a key from Iida.”

“Are you here to cry again?”

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

“I have eyes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t smoke that much.”

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

“Is that worry I detected?” Shouto deflects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would they be on your ass?”

“Hell would I know.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, that’s fine too.”

“No, shut-”

“My mom and dad are getting back together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The day after my quirk manifested.”

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

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

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

Oh, that’s why he’s angry.

“It was training.”

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

“That’s new, what’s a himbo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can tell me.”

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

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

“Shut the fuck up, thermostat.”

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

“Come here.”

“The fuck are you trying to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aizawa sighs, “Is it life-threatening ?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouto follows with a “Good night Sensei.”

Aizawa grunts.

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

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

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

++++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who fucking stalking you Zuko.”

“Zuko doesn’t have-”

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

“How did you know?”

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

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

“That fucking Deku???”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not a secret.”

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

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

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

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

Katsuki paled, horrified, seemingly to misunderstand again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, that’s good.”

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

“They’re not hurting each other.”

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

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

Not trusting his voice, Shouto nods.

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

Katsuki holds his hand tighter and trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Arisu.”

“... I’m sorry you lost her.”

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

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

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

Katsuki instantly glowers at him.

“Who?”

“Katsuki.”

“Who??”

“Bakugou.”

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

“Okay, me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no idea,” Shouto admits.

The sneer falls, “Why?”

“Just because I finally can.”

“You couldn’t before?”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what is there to tell.”

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

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

“Does he still train you like that?”

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

“No, not since he became number 1.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that’s nosy.”

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

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

“We’ve been friends for a while...”

“We’re not fucking friends-!”

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

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

“Best at what?”

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

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

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

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

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

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

“You told Arisu didn’t you?”

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

“But you told Deku, you told me.”

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

“Sure, I’ll get you settled.”

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

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

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

“Katsuki?”

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

“Go take a shower, bath’s warm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

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

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

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

“A what?”

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

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

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouto gives her a smile and nods.

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

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

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

Kirishima squeaks, “He-hey, uh-”

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

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

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

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

Shouto sighs, “No.”

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

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

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hot and cold.”

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

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

“But I already had them with Mina and Sero”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No promises.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m trying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.”

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

++++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

Katsuki hums.

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki grumbles.

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

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

Shouto pouts, “That’s not possible.”

“Let’s go hiking instead.”

“Okay.”

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

“Just us two right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

++++

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

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

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

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milkacchan · 4 years

Text

Request for anon: can I request Present mic and a American exchange student (southern reader if you could??) (Aka her being his favorite student)?? ((Bc I know you have an Aizawa one and all might one))

REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN!!!

😌😌😌😌 yes.

• His class is your favorite but also your least favorite

• Because you have a natural affinity for english and you ACE the tests but also Japanese is SO HARD

• Anyway from day one, you're his favorite

• he heard you mumble a pun under your breath at something he said then laugh to yourself and he's like

• Yes. This one.

• he is that english teacher

• the ones that kids will flock to if they feel alone

• This man practically becomes dad 2

• and you're so thankful for that because it's someone you can be with

• Anyway it starts with you sitting alone in his class room during lunch

• bc theres no one else to talk to lmao

• Dumb small talk

• that turns into pun contests and dad jokes

"Hey, Mr. Hizashi, did you hear about the kidnapping at school?"

He perked up, "What?! No I-"

"It's okay, he woke up."

• and that was when he knew you were going to be best friends

• You eat in his room a lot

• and when he finally questions it, he feels his heart break a little

"So why do you always eat in here? Not that I mind- just students rather not spend more time with teachers."

You shrug. "I feel better in here, I don't really fit in with my class right now- I don't know them and the prospect of interacting kinda scares me. Besides it's fun in here."

• he's 🥺🥺

• but he totally understands!!! Because he was the same way in highschool. Unsure if he was liked

• and as you do start to really make friends, he see's you in the room a little less but you're still there a majority of the time

• Hizashi also speaks english and he likes talking to you in english Because he can talk shit with you

• Aizawa only understands about 45% of what you're saying

• All might understands a majority though so you gotta watch it w him

• He's a fuckin sNITCH

• "Did you see that?" He mumbles under his breath, his attention still on his paper

"I was going to pretend I didn't- that was awful,"

"Sounds like a plan,"

• Y'all talk- a lot

• father daughter vibes

• you got his number

• Deadass

• "(Y/N)!!! I'M GETTING FOOD! WANT ANYTHING?"

"Whatever is cheapest,"

• He'll absolutely leave to get you something if you really needed it

• Like one time you needed tampons and there were none to be found

• and you admit it to Hizashi (with so much embarrassment) and before you even ask he's running to the store

• Thankfully it was during lunch so he didn't ditch any classes he was supposed to teach or anything

• mans is a god send

• if you dont have enough money to get food or sumn

• he got you covered

• "You're literally going to go broke Mr. Hizashi,"

"No, I am what you call r i c h,"

"You really aren't,"

"Stooop, I'm getting it for you."

• one time you accidently called him dad and you thought you were going die if embarrassment

• YOU DONT EVEN REALIZE YOU SAID IT UNTIL YOU WERE OUT OF HIS CLASSROOM

• Eye contact?? Idk her

• But mic feels honored

• theres the dad trio, Aizawa, All might, and now Hizashi

• They have an on going competition likes dads do, bragging about their kids

• "Did you hear? Young Midoryia figured out his power move,"

"Little late if you ask me, However Shinsou is ready to move to 1A,"

"(Y/N) got the highest score in her class by 10 on the english test we took AND she's cooler than yalls kids,"

• At the sports festival he's cheering for you

• Bitch is SCREAMING

• He's got your back 100% all the time

• He helps you come out of your shell no doubt

• yall are stupid, together.

• yall also vibe, together

• #staying after school to watch a movie in his class

• Occasionally Aizawa will join

• Being close with Hizashi automatically means being close with Aizawa I mean this man WILL protect you with his life

• Even if he denies it

• They're called movie Wednesdays

• because its half way through the week and you definitely want to die by then so it's time for a break

• Aizawa won't assign homework on wednesdays for this reason (even if he doesnt go)

• the rest of class 1a doesnt know

• Sometimes even Hitoshi will join, fam squad

• No, seriously tho

• Yall deadass stay being a family

• Hizashi would 100% adopt you if he could

• HE'LL COPY YOUR SOUTH LINGO

• Like phrases he hears you say? He'll memorize it

• He started saying y'all and all the teachers clowned him but he didn't even care

• He'll also ask a lot about America

• he wants to know as much as he can

• specifically about where you live

• He thinks traditions and certain aspects are cool there

• like piercings? If you have those he'll think its dope

• and he'll ask about the attitude towards them in America

• Dyed hair? Same questions

• he'll def have you in his radio show to talk about it

• starting a podcast??? Maybe.

• okay lets talk about papa bear mode for a sec

• Present Mic, Hizashi Yamada, 100% has a papa bear mode

• it's scary bc he has red eyes

• I'm talking about like yelling at other teachers who yell at you

• Pulling you out of actual first fights (he'll rarely get you in trouble)

• Absolutely wrecking people who try you

• Pulling you out of rubble that one time during training and giving Bakugou the scare of his LIFE

• Like yall thought his mom was scary? Just wait. Hizashi tops that.

• Bakugou is quiet for the rest of the day

• but his papa bear also includes emotional support

• you open up to him more than you've opened up to people at home

• like full on crying in his chest. Maybe bc you were stressed or homesick- but he's there if you ever need it.

• and lastly, reading manga together then talking about it

#present mic #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #aizawa x child reader #aizawa x daughter reader #aizawa x hizashi #Hizashi x child reader #hizashi x reader #hizashi x daughter reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader

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neoheros · 4 years

Text

how would haikyuu boys handle spending the night together? feat. kuroo tetsuro, akaashi keiji, tsukishima kei

kuroo tetsuro

the first time you and kuroo spent the night together was a wednesday evening when you didn’t even plan on staying over

his parents left town for the day and it was a better time than any other to have you spend the afternoon

you were still both in your uniforms and with the school day you just had, it was safe to say that you deserved to lay on top of him on the couch while your hands are in his hair

you were tired from school and he was tired from practice

you barely even spoke to each other that afternoon, all you remember was him offering to take a nap with you in his bed and you being too sleepy to decline

you changed into one of his sweatshirts and a pair of shorts and when he saw you he just 🥺

kuroo: are we really that tired tho 👉👈

you, blinking: yes

the nap was so deep and peaceful that the only reason you woke up from it was because of the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway

that’s when you realize that you’ve actually spent the night and the bright light that’s been annoying your eyes for the past 2 minutes was the sun rising

you shift from your place but kuroo’s right grip on your waist only worsened as he pulled you closer to his chest

“stop moving so much,” he mumbles groggily, refusing to open his eyes as he snuggles against your shoulder blade

you panic, “kuroo we’re gonna be late,”

he takes a while to respond but you feel him nod softly against your skin, “we can skip first period,”

then you hear the front door open, your heart racing because kuroo clearly doesn’t have any plans on getting up soon

you try your best to push him away from you but the more you do the more his tightening his grip, too tired to open his eyes

you, panicking: if you don’t wake up now i’m breaking up with you

kuroo, mumbling: hmm we’ll get back together it’s okay

he’s pressing quick kisses against your shoulder and you almost swoon over the infatuated look he had on

“we should do this more often,” kuroo says, his voice quiet and you’re debating with yourself if he’s choosing not to hear his parents downstairs

you shift, “i know, i like this too, but your parents are home and i don’t want their first impression of me to be like this,”

he finally opens his eyes and lets go of the grip he had on you, you jump out of bed, hearing the footsteps from the stairs

“tetsu, are you awake yet?” his mom’s voice blared as she knocked on his door

you wanted to laugh as the panic set on your boyfriend’s face but you found yourself frozen still when you realize that this meant trouble if she found you in there

“kuroo, i swear to god, i will not let this be the first time your mom meets me,” you tell him in a hushed tone, quickly picking up your clothes

“yup!” he shouts back, and the first thing he could do when the doorknob twisted was shove you in his open closet

you yelp at the suddenness but you held the door closed as your pressed against his clothes in extreme tightness

“you’ll be late,” his mom says, entering his room

kuroo nods, “i’m actually skipping first period, my head hurts,”

there’s sweat on his forehead and his mom crosses her arms with a look

“fine,” she says, sighing, “your dad and i are going grocery shopping this morning so make sure to lock up before you go back to bed.”

kuroo lets out a breath of relief, walking his mom out the door and he shuffles to lock it before opening the closet to a rather agitated you

kuroo: i mean hey at least now we can have the morning in peace 😌

you, throwing a pillow at him: i hate you

kuroo, pulling you back in bed: hmm we’ll drive by starbucks before heading to school

you: i hate you less

tsukishima kei

first of all, sleeping with him is one thing and waking up next to him is another

he’s so stiff and on guard the whole time that you’d think he’s physically repulsed by the idea of you being beside him all night

you: i can take the floor, it’s really not a big deal

tsukki: are you kidding i’m not letting you sleep on the floor

you: wait aw 🥺

tsukki: at least take the couch

you can tell he’s anxious with the whole thing and you curse yourself for thinking it was a good enough time for the both of you to have a sleepover

but he’s just been away a lot from all the volleyball tournaments and it’s been so long since the two of you hung out that when he asked if you wanted to stay over you couldn’t say no

so now you’re left awkwardly sitting on his bed at 11 pm after the two of you finished a movie with nothing else to do

he eyes you down, you’re wearing one of his shirts which were obviously too big and a pair of sweats that you brought along

he glances at his watch, a faint pink on his face as he avoids your gaze

you: wait are you shy like are you actually

tsukki: hey remember when you offered to sleep on the floor

the two of you decide to just let tiredness take over you when you feel like it so you spend the next two hours in each other’s arms as you both scroll through tiktok

his nerves have calm down but you still feel the faint racing of his heart when you laugh from a video you see

you, internally: 🥺👉👈

but then you realize that hours have passed and neither of you are still tired enough to seriously lay down next to each other and try to sleep

tsukishima: do you want to go out for a drive?

you: it’s 3 am

tsukishima: ?

you: i like the way you think

AND ITS JUST SO !! FRICKEN !! ADORABLE !!!

he hands you an extra hoodie of his because it’s cold outside and he absolutely refuses to drive unless you put your seatbelt on

so it’s 3 am and the two of you are at a starbucks drivethru ordering too much caffeine for people who’re trying to fall asleep

you both end up chilling in their parking lot all morning just scrolling through twitter or tiktok and sometimes you’d feel him glance up at you from his phone but you decide not to mention it

you: why don’t we spend time like this more often

tsukishima: i honestly think you’ll find me boring if we hang out for more than an hour :/

you, soft: it actually takes less than an hour 🥺

before the two of you realize it you’ve fallen asleep in his car at a starbucks with the windows down and the 1975 blaring in the radio

you wake up first from the sunlight and you won’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat when you noticed how tsukki took off his hoodie to put on your thighs

you take off his glasses from his face, giving him a quick peck on the forehead before making sure he was comfortable and warm in his seat

he must’ve been tired and you really hope that you didn’t wake him up when you left the car to order more coffee for the both of you

akaashi keiji

THIS BOY IS AN ANGEL

he’s asleep by 10 pm and he’ll wake up at 8 just like he’s used to because he’s the most perfect boy in the world with the most perfect sleep schedule

you know of this fact and it bugs you cause sometimes you just really wanna facetime him at 3 am or reference him tiktoks that you found funny that day

so when he offered you a chance to stay over you were kinda on the rocks about it

you: yknow i sleep at 4 am right

akaashi: ... by choice?

you: at this point my body just shuts down when it wants to

akaashi, alarmed: oh

regardless of this fact, you could never turn down akaashi, it was like hard wired in your brain to never ever decline him and can you really blame yourself he’s 🥺

he insisted to stay up with you instead of you trying to fall asleep next to him at 9 pm but you just couldn’t put him through that

you put down your phone and even if it did feel odd to close your eyes without the sun rising, the sudden embrace by your boyfriend immediately made you forget about everything else

sleeping next to akaashi is utter heaven

he’s got his hand over your waist and his scent just envelops you in a non overpowering way

his fingers trail under your shirt and you shiver at how gentle they are

akaashi, under his breath: thank you for doing this

you, ready to risk it all: due to personal reasons i will be passing away ❤️

he places a quick kiss on your forehead before letting go of you and turning to his side

you felt like asking him back to you but you knew how tired he must’ve been so you don’t budge

you’re left staring at his room’s ceiling and you don’t know how long you did that but the next time you checked your phone it was already 1 am in the morning

you, internally: it’s like a talent omfg

aside from the fact that you’re close to tears as you think about how you stared at a ceiling for 3 hours straight because you didn’t want to go to sleep that much you stop fighting the inevitable

you prop yourself up on his headboard, careful not to wake him up beside you and start to go through what you usually do most nights

you’re so caught up on the tiktoks that you barely notice akaashi stirring from beside you before pulling the comforter over his head

he’s awake at this point and the silly grin on his face can’t be fought as he looks at you so indebted in what you watched

he leans against your shoulder, tired eyes and all whilst stifling back a yawn

you, sleepy: sorry for waking you

akaashi, just as sleepy: that’s ok, i like this better

the two of you spend the rest of the morning against each other on his headboard as you scroll through the contents of your phone

once akaashi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep, he gently pushes you back down on the pillows and your hands immediately make their way to embrace him

he will 100% take pictures before getting himself comfortable next to you, a soft smile on his face as he snuggles against your neck

akaashi, turning off his alarms: we can sleep in tomorrow

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milkybunbuns · 4 years

Text

fights with nekoma

w/ Kuroo, Kenma, Lev, Yaku and Yamamoto - gn! reader

w/c: 1.5 K - about 300 per character

warnings: A lil bit of fighting amongst you and your fav bois :((

RAINBOW masterlist!

Okay, so we’re starting with the amazing scheming captain

He is literally the most wonderful boyfriend and will make sure you’re alright and show you off all the time

But recently he’s been really stressed with nationals coming up and the workload of almost heading into uni

One day he gets back from volleyball practice - Lev was being super annoying and managed to spill water everywhere which he had to clean up and Yamamoto has slammed into him when spiking

So to say the least, he was very angry

You felt that ✨ v i b e ✨coming from him

So, as his ever so wonderful s/o, you walked up to him to comfort him

He was still by the doorway taking off his shoes, he didn’t even bother to call out your name

He probably didn’t notice you either, too busy in his thoughts

So then, when you touch him, he jolts

You ask him what’s wrong

He tells you to back off

You ignore him cause you have to be there for him through thick and thin

That really pisses him off more that he already was and that was the last straw for his patience

This boi was sick of life, he was annoyed and angry

He starts going off at you, telling you how you’re so bad and stuff

This makes you cry, first the sniffles, but he’s too busy ranting to realise your glossy eyes

You start full on crying, running back to your bedroom

He realises you ran off and finally snaps out of it

He feels rlly bad and apologises

You don’t forgive him cause it really hurt you

So he decides to make it up to you, not through whatever way you’re thinking rn, talking to yer perves out there lol

He buys you lots of gifts, devotes all his time to you, takes you on dates, uses dumb science pick up lines on you

Eventually you cave in to his charms and forgive him

Even so, he still apologises again, even tho you assured him you forgive him

He doesn’t want a repeat of that to EVER happen again

Normally he’s a rlly chill dude

The two of you almost never get into fights

Even when you do, he almost always immediately caves in

He just can’t be bothered to fight back cause he knows your always right

He has huge respect for u

But this time you decide to scold him again

He doesn’t think you’re very right

You’re talking about how video games aren’t important and he’s too obsessed with them

Although he loves you, he’s gotta stick by his video games

Very loyal boi to his video games

So, he finally decides to speak up for himself, tired of your blabbering

“You don’t have any right to decide how I spend my time!”

He didn’t mean to say it that loud

At first, you’re lowkey shook

Kenma legit never raises his voice

You must’ve hit a nerve

You feel bad

But to protect your pride, you continue on arguing

Soon, you realise your arguments are ridiculous

They aren’t even good and don’t even make sense

Yet, you stalk off to blow off some steam at the park

There you meet Kuroo

He gives you some advice on what you should do

After all, he has been Kenma’s friend since forever

You follow his advice

And you wait for a day before you do it cause ur still kinda mad ngl

You guys don’t sleep together that day

And you can’t sleep without him

So you stayed up all night, not even a wink of sleep

You missed his warmth

So first thing at like 4 am (he had to get up early for volleyball practice which was at like 5) you went to his room and stood against the wall waiting

When he FINALLY wakes up, you immediately begin apologising

He can’t even make out what you’re saying

I mean, after all, he just woke up

He sees your eyebags and is rlly worried

Asks you about what happened to you

You sheepishly admit you didn’t sleep

He frowns at you and pulls you into the bed with him

You sleep like a baby and he’s happy

The two of you compromise :))

Lev and you always fight over the stupidest things

That’s guaranteed

You were manager for Nekoma

They were currently practicing after school

And here the two of you were

In the middle of the volleyball court, bickering like idiots

The two of you are so lucky that Yaku and Kuroo haven’t arrived yet

Surprisingly Kenma is already here, but he makes no move to stop the two of you

This is normal, he’s used to it, as long as he can play his video games he couldn’t care less

The two of you were arguing about whether Yin or Yang was better

You thought Yang was the best cause legit any colour mixed with white makes pastels

And EVERYONE loves pastels

If you don’t like pastels, idk what to say

Lev was spewing some shit about how Yin was so cool cause it was dark and edgy like ninjas

He wanted to be a ninja

You were legit laughing at that

Who would not notice a 2m giant sneaking around

You didn’t laugh tho cause you’re too nice

And you don’t want karma to bite you back in the butt

And Lev’s smug face if he actually became a ninja

The two of you couldn’t decide

So you both asked Kenma

You legit shoved your faces into his, blocking his view of his console or whatever

You ask him whether Yin or Yang is better

He deadpanned and replied grey

The two of you were so confused and stared at him blankly

Finally he explained that Yin and Yang needed to be balanced and could not survive without the other

You both awed at his smartness

And at that moment, Yaku entered

Just the mere sight of the two of you made him angry

So he slapped you both, for your own good

Yaku the absolute mom of the team

Being a mom means he’s also vry good at arguing

Literally wins every argument

Makes you wonder why he didn’t join the debating club

Lev told you it was because Yaku would frighten everyone away with his ugly face

He got promptly slapped, kicked and hit with a volleyball

#stoplevabuse

“Serves him right”

That’s what Yaku said

You know better than to question the mom

However, one day you got dared to argue with Yaku

And guess who dared you?

Wow, yeah I would’ve never guessed, Lev

You wanted to protec your pride and dignity so duh you did it

You’re no coward

But you seriously forgot how scary Yaku was

You immediately starting sweating bullets when he stared at you, hands on his hips

You regretted it

Would not recommend fighting with a fellow mom

Who knew moms were so scary, brrr...

His precise words were

“Y/n L/n, whatever is passing through your pea head mind, I want you to stop it immediately.”

Yeah he could tell what you were going to do once he saw you approaching him

I guess he had ears everywhere...

The two of you have never had fights before

That’s just how well the two of you fit together

Yamamoto would totally worship the ground you step on

That’s just how he is

In his eyes, you are the most amazing person to have ever stepped on this planet

Maybe even better than Kiyoko-senpai...👉👈

Total simp for you

Would listen to your every command

So heckin in love it’s rlly cute

But he won’t be afraid to show his ‘rawry’ side to you

Idk how to describe the ‘rawry’ side, but like around hot people, he would probably act rlly nicely and then behind their backs when they ain’t looking he would totally be all manly and stuff. And pervy

You should be happy he trusts you that much

But you rlly break his trust when you tell Lev about his embarrassing moments

You told Lev to not tell him

But Lev with his stupidously big blabber mouth can’t keep it shut

He taunts Yamamoto and that boi be rlly angry

He demands to know who told him

Lev accidentally let’s it slip out

He forgot

Yamamoto is rlly upset

Ignores you when he gets home

You start to wonder why he’s ignoring you for ‘no reason’

It’s dinner and he hadn’t even come down

You’re rlly mad

So after you ate you barge into his room yelling at him

He’s rlly angry cause u just broke his trust and starts yelling at him

Things start to get a bit physical

But fortunately, by the next day you figured what had happened at organized an apology to him with the help of his team

He immediately forgave you seeing what you had done

And you never did that again :>

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missmorosis · 4 years

Text

Terrible

Hi! Hello!

Part of the inspo for this fic is here! Whump & fluff are my soft spots… I really loved this prompt by @whumpster-dumpster omg I was scrolling through your prompts and I LOVE THEM!! I’ll definitely have to do one or two more in the future!

Please please please send in requests through my asks!! I would LOVE to write more for y’all~

Pairing: uhhhh soo it can be Zuko x reader, buuut it’s pretty much Gaang x reader :) pairing can apply to everyone? idk

Warnings: Just some dizziness, sickness, fainting! Also please pretend that covid doesn’t exist here~

Word count: omg i wrote 2.5k words!

Summary: Y/N is very sick, but of course, she’s so stubborn that she still needs to help set up for Aang’s birthday party.

When Y/N woke up, she wasn’t sure what was wrong, but she felt out of it. She blindly reached out next to her, feeling for Zuko’s warm body, but he wasn’t there. He must be off at work at the Jasmine Dragon already or something…

Y/N turned on her phone and groaned. 8:30 AM. She had to get up; she had promised Katara that she would help set up for Aang’s birthday, and she was supposed to meet her in one hour. Sighing, she kicked her blanket off and peeled her eyes open, slightly shivering from the cold. She squinted her eyes. Why was the sunlight so bright? Her eyelids felt heavy, and she wanted more than anything to pull the blanket back up and make herself comfortable once more. However, she scooted her body out of bed, forcing herself to get up.

Her body didn’t approve. She groaned, rubbing her pounding temples with her hand. She stayed still, hoping for the headache to pass before she made any sharp movements. After a while, the throbbing ceased a bit, and Y/N deemed it safe to move. She checked the time. 8:42 AM. She cursed, getting clothes from her closet as fast as she could. Ignoring her headache, she made a quick mental checklist of the things she needed to do. 1. Take a shower. 2. Get dressed & get ready. 3. Pick up the cake from the bakery, and 4. Drive over to Katara’s and help her with anything else. She could do that in 48, now 47 minutes, right?

She trudged through her room, through the hallway, heading towards the bathroom. She brought her clothes over, setting it down on the counter next to the sink. She paused, leaning on the bathroom door for just a second, feeling lightheaded. She sighed, closing her eyes. Why was it so hot all of a sudden? Why was the room spinning…? That never happened before… Where was this sickness coming from? Her knees sank into the ground. No. She promised to help Katara. She lifted herself up with difficulty, using the edge of the sink as support. She staggered, but eventually, she pulled herself up.

Maybe a shower would make her feel better? She pulled her clothes off and got into the shower. The warm water ran against the skin, flowing through her hair. She was going to be fine. She needed to help Katara! She didn’t want Katara to set up the party all by herself.

Ahh, yes, this was making her feel… better. Right? The water steamed, fogging up the shower glass. She shampooed her hair, running her fingers through her scalp, but it wasn’t making her feel better. No, it was making her feel worse. She was feeling incredibly dizzy and her limbs were weak. The steam from the hot water made her even more dizzy. The shower violently swayed to one side, the world spinning too fast for Y/N to keep up. She washed out the bubbles in her hair, her body slowly sinking into the floor of the shower booth. She was now on all four, unable to stay standing.

What was happening to her? Y/N washed her body with a loofa, still sitting on the floor of the booth, moving slowly with low energy. She washed all the bubbles off and turned off the water. She crawled out and grabbed a towel and the clothes from the countertop. She wiped away the water with the towel and she slowly pulled the clothes on, starting with her lower body. The ripped jeans she picked out were seriously annoying to put on. Her feet kept getting caught in the holes, and it was especially hard because Y/N was seeing double. She then pulled on her top and exhaled in relief. She reached for her phone. 9:13 AM. She internally screamed; she spent way too long to shower. She only had 17 more minutes to do… what?

What was number 2 on her checklist again? She couldn’t make her brain think. She was too busy trying to stay conscious. She closed her eyes, shakily bringing her legs in, moving her body into a fetal position. She rested her head on her knees, trying to stop the room from spinning so severely, trying to stop her from feeling so weak, and trying to stop herself from passing out. She felt faint and she didn’t know if she could get up. She would rather lay on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

“Y/N?” Someone knocked at the door, and Y/N barely recognized his voice. Her brain was not working at all.

“Zuko?” she weakly managed to call his name. Hadn’t he gone to work?

“Hey, are you okay? Can I come in? You’ve been in the bathroom for over 40 minutes.” 40 minutes!? How has time gone by so fast?! Y/N reached one arm up and unlocked the bathroom door, grunting at the effort. The door burst open, letting in the cool air from outside the bathroom. She sighed, and tried to look up at Zuko. “Oh my gosh, Y/N!” He kneeled down next to her, his hand immediately on her forehead, checking her temperature. “You’re burning up! What happened?”

“I- I woke up feeling sick and now I’m about to pass out,” she breathed. Her wet hair was dripping onto the white bathroom tiles. Her breathing was shallow, and her surroundings were still wobbly. Her eyesight was going wonky… why was everything blacking out? She squinted, trying to focus on Zuko, but he kept moving. “Z- Zuko, stop moving, I can’t focus on you.”

“Y/N,” he looked at her with concerned eyes. “I’m not moving.” Her mouth opened to form an “o” shape, and she blinked. She was sure he was moving. “Here, lean on me, okay?” She could hear him repositioning himself. She rested her head on the front of Zuko’s chest. She could hear his heartbeat. Thump… thump… thump… She slumped further onto his knees as the world spun and her vision went black.

✧･ﾟ: *

“Y/N? Hey, are you alright?” Zuko was above Y/N, looking very worried.

“Z- Zuko? What time is it?” Zuko checked his phone.

“9:53, but that’s not important. You literally just passed out.”

“9:53?!” She was late! “Oh no, oh no. I need to pick up the cake and get to Katara’s!” She quickly sat up, which caused her to groan. She shouldn’t have done that; she buried her head in her hands to try and stop the room from spinning once again.

“Hey,” Zuko gently pushed Y/N back down. “I’ll take care of it. It’s okay, you need some rest. Clearly you’re not okay.” He spoke in a soft, calm voice, which calmed her down a bit, but Y/N’s frantic eyes darted all over his face. She shook her head.

“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, despite her headache and the dizziness. She couldn’t get up, let alone drive, but she was undeniably stubborn. She had to help, even though she was definitely not fine. “I promised Katara I would help with Aang’s birthday party. The cake is under my name; only I can pick it up from the bakery. I swear, I’m fine.”

She got up to prove her point, but it backfired. Her knees collapsed from weakness, causing her to trip over herself. She clutched the side of the couch for support. Why did she have to be so dizzy? Zuko’s arms grabbed her from behind, and she lay limp, allowing him to carry her. Why did it take so much effort to stay standing??

“Y/N. I’m worried about you, and you definitely can’t go alone.” He sighed. “If this is really important…” Y/N eagerly nodded. It was important! “I’ll go with you. Sounds good?” Y/N nodded again. That was fine! She checked her phone. 9:58 AM! Already?!

Oh wow, she had a lot of messages. She scrolled through her notifications...

Katara: Hey Y/N! Are you coming?

Katara: Y/N?

Katara: Sokka and I are starting to worry… are you okay?

Sokka: helloooooo?

Sokka: Y/N? you’re… very late ahaha

Sokka: seriously tho- hello?? can ya answer

Sokka: y/nnnn answer me :(

Sokka: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe

Katara: Missed Calls (4)

Sokka: Missed Calls (5)

Y/N groaned: she didn’t mean to make them worry! She was completely fine. She quickly texted them back, letting them know that she was running late but she’ll be coming soon. She clicked her phone off and got up, letting Zuko support her. Y/N was grateful; she didn’t think she could walk on her own. He led her to the car, once again looking at her worriedly.

“Are you sure you want to go? You can just text them that you can’t make it,” he said. She waved it off. She was going to be fine. She slumped further into the seat, rubbing her temples. Her head still hurt like crazy, and on top of that, she was shivering from the cold. Why was her body like this…? “You’re cold?” She nodded. She was very cold. “Y/N… it’s 82 degrees.” Oh shoot. Now he was going to worry even more.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. She sent him a smile, just to tie it in. He bit his lip, perhaps to bite back some more worried comments, but instead he started the car. The dizziness multiplied as soon as Zuko started driving. She probably should have stayed home, but it’s too late now… “Head over to umm…” Y/N racked her brain, trying to remember the name of the bakery. She closed her eyes as another headache struck her temples. She was tired of this.

“Y/N?” Another worried glance. She had been “thinking” for too long.

“Oh, umm, the one in the plaza next to Katara’s house. It has brick walls.” Zuko changed course, heading to the bakery Y/N described. The car ride felt terrible. Every second, her head hurt, the world kept spinning, and Zuko kept on looking at her as if she was going to pass out again any minute. Which could actually be a possibility, but she put that aside.

Finally, they arrived at the bakery. Zuko gestured for Y/N to stay in the car, which she was totally fine with. She felt like she closed her eyes for a second, and when she blinked, Zuko was already back in the car with the cake in the backseat.

“Oh, hi… Welcome back!” Y/N said. Zuko sighed.

“Y/N, you need to rest. You… look terrible.”

“Gee.. thanks.” She knew, in fact, that if she looked as bad as she felt, she looked very terrible. “But it’s too late now! We’re practically already at Katara’s house. I can see it from here.” Zuko sighed again and started the short drive. After only a few minutes, the two pulled up in Katara’s driveway. Zuko helped Y/N out, and she was not ready. Her leg crumpled as soon as it hit the floor, but Zuko caught her. She mumbled “sorry” as she tried to stand up straight. Zuko practically carried her; she definitely could not walk on her own. Everything was spinning, including Zuko, so she trusted him to lead the way. He rang the doorbell. Sokka answered the door.

“Hey guys! Hi Zuko, didn’t know you were coming.” Y/N smiled. Sokka looked at the scene in front of him. Y/N knew that they must look really weird: she was leaning on Zuko, and Zuko was supporting her with one arm around her waist. “Y/N, you guys are getting reeaaal comfy there.” She could see Zuko rolling his eyes. “Anyways, come in! We’re just finishing up decorating.”

Zuko kicked his shoes off and he helped Y/N do the same. Ahh shoot. Everything spun around her once again. She shut her eyes as tight as she could until it passed. She opened her eyes, looking up at Zuko. His concerned eyes met hers, asking a silent question. Are you sure you’re okay? She nodded, sighing.

“Hey Y/N!” Katara waved at her.

“Sorry I’m so late, I got held up.” Katara nodded in understanding. She could feel Zuko’s eyes on her but she ignored him. She did get held up. By passing out... but she could leave out the details.

“Can you help me put this up?” Katara held up an orange banner in one hand. She read the banner: Happy birthday Appa! Appa? No, she read it again. Aang. Ugh, she couldn’t even read anymore. She climbed up the ladder with one side of the banner in her hand. Shoot. She stopped midway, gripping the edges of the metal ladder as everything spun harshly around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to squish out all of the dizziness.

“Y/N?” She heard Katara’s voice calling to her, but she couldn’t tell from where. She felt someone pulling her off the ladder. The warmth of the body told her that it was Zuko.

“Y/N, are you okay?” someone asked her, but she couldn’t tell who. She felt Zuko pull her in tighter, but she couldn’t see anything since her eyes were completely shut. She wasn’t planning on opening them until everything was back to normal, which meant that it would be a while. She felt terrible, the room wouldn’t stop spinning, her head pounded, and everything was gross. She buried her head further into Zuko’s arms. Everything hurts so much. She wanted everything to stop.

“Y/N?” Zuko asked her gently.

She heard someone (Sokka?) open and close a cupboard. “Let me take your temperature. Holy- 104.8! Y/N! You shouldn’t have come here. You need to rest.”

“That’s what I was saying, but she insisted on coming.” She heard Zuko’s exasperated voice. She choked back a sob. Everything hurt so bad, the room was spinning and she couldn’t even open her eyes. She should have just stayed home.

“Y/N? Are you going to pass out?” Katara’s worried voice asked.

“Y/N, it’s not healthy to pass out twice in one day,” Zuko whispered.

“Twice?! When did she-”

“This morning. I found her on the bathroom floor.”

“That’s why she was late..? Y/N! You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well!” Everyone else mumbled in agreement.

“Hey, Y/N?” Zuko asked again, softer than before. “Can you say something?”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s okay, but you seriously need to rest, alright? It looks like it just keeps getting worse. How do you feel right now?” Zuko’s hand gripped hers.

“Terrible.” That summed it all up. She felt herself be lifted up, and she was carried away. Zuko’s footsteps echoed in her brain. She was set down on a bed and tucked in.

“Get well soon, okay?” A tender kiss was planted on the top of her burning forehead. She was going to get well for Zuko’s sake.

A/N: that ending do be weird tho

SOOOO that kinda made no sense & it wasn’t too realistic buuut I did write a lot! Hopefully you guys liked it! If you read that mess, THANK YOU!! HUGS TO ALL!!

Please request something in my asks... I would love to write for y’all! I LOVE YOU GUYS!! STAY SAFE!!

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko x yn #zuko #atla zuko #atla #atla imagine #zuko imagine #zuko one shot #atla oneshot #atla x you #atla x y/n #atla x reader #atla x yn

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justsomeoneunordinary · 4 years

Text

Dark Fic Recs

@rhodee asked me for some dark fic recs and since this is one of my favorite tropes, I know quite some. I wanna make clear from the beginning that those are dark fics. Means stories with fucked up/morally dubious/voilent content. And not salty “Team Cap was mean to me, so I become evil now” kind of fics. If you’re interested in the latter, I am the wrong person to ask.

Some of them are much darker than the others, but you should read for each one carefully the tags and/or the Author’s Note, since some have special twists in the end that aren’t mentioned in the tags.

Basically: know your limits.

Dark!Tony fics (my personal preference)

Faster, Colder, Sharper by Penned (WinterIron)

Tony is kidnapped by Hydra. When the team gets him back, he has changed far more than they suspect. More than even the surface shows.

Bucky though, he notices it all.

A de-aged Tony fic with Bucky as a caretaker... of sorts.

Radioactive by Valmasy (WinterIron, Series)

The pain is all-encompassing. It’s all he can think about. It’s all he feels. It’s all he breathes. It’s all he lives. Like a barbed net, its sharpness swallows him whole, over and over and over. Tony’s mind tries to hide, tries to save itself, but the pain finds him even then. It burns away at his resistance until all he is crumbles, until he’s nothing but ash and dust.

Attack dog by salytierra (Stony)

Steve doesn't swim in self-delusion. He knows that he is sick and that his owner is even worse. He is aware of it every time he rips some nameless guy’s throat out and feels the crunch of bones under his fingers. He is aware of it every time the rush of adrenaline at seeing life slip away from a stranger’s eyes hits him and gets him bothered and panting in ways that have nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

But it feels so good…

His owner’s approach is less personal. His shots fall clean and take out several foes at a time, his figure elegant and so graceful he looks like a god among savages. He is power incarnated, cold and burning like a sun at the same time… and Steve tries not to focus on him when they are fighting together, least his knees go weak and his technique falters. It’s fine though. They will go home afterwards and his owner will fuck him on the hard floor, with most of their gear still on and a vicious grip in his hair.

Anatomy of a Moral Man by ShyOwl (Stony, WIP)

At a young age Tony understood he was not meant to be a hero and the world, he believes, is far better for it. With his rule now set in stone, his life is finally settling down. That is until something was found buried underneath the ice.

Tony may not be a hero but that did not stop him from falling in love with one.

In Restless Dreams by charocalwinter (WinterIron, WIP)

When he discovers what he believes to be the truth about his parents’ recent deaths, a powerful and morally ambiguous Tony Stark sets out to get his revenge on Steve Rogers. How does Bucky Barnes fit into this feud and why isn't anybody giving him a pair of socks?

“It isn’t often that Tony Stark finds himself unsure of anything, but this situation has him doubting his every thought, his every move … with Rogers comes James, and that boy is muddling Tony’s mind.” ~ interrupted excerpt from ch 4.

A Pound of Flesh by jellybeanforest (Stony)

To save Bucky, Steve volunteers to work off his debt to the Carbonell crime family. Unfortunately, he is unsuited for the role of enforcer, unable to beat and murder those in the same position as Bucky. He is brought before the mob boss, Tony Stark, who demands his pound of flesh in the wake of Steve’s failure. But upon seeing the attractive blond, Tony proposes alternative employment, one that won’t require him to harm others: Becoming his kept man.

“This isn’t an offer I make often, so you should be flattered – count yourself lucky, even – that I am extending you this rare opportunity.”

“To be raped repeatedly?”

“To have a second chance to work off your debts after you failed so spectacularly the first time. But I don’t have to. I could just use these knives I’ve brought along, carve up that pretty face of yours like a Thankgiving turkey, which would be a shame, really. Then I suppose I’d have to pay a visit to your little friend. This entire exercise has been a waste of my valuable time… perhaps I’ll take an arm for my trouble,” he muses. “So, tell me, Rogers, is Barnes right- or left-handed?”

It’s an offer Steve can’t refuse.

Take Away (everything I am) by salytierra (WinterIron)

“Everyone I kill deserves to die.”

“True. But try to explain that to Captain Justice and Faith.” He takes a gulp of the scotch right out of the bottle and flops down on Tony’s lap, straddling his hips. “He cares too much. You and I? – We do what needs to be done.”

Tony circles his waist with both arms and pulls him closer, opening his mouth when Barnes offers him the bottle and swallowing the bitter liquid dry.

“Nobody ever believed I was able to care. So why should I?”

“Coming from somebody who is expected and probably should care more but doesn’t really give a fuck? – I’ll drink to that.”

Operant Conditioning by dracusfyre (WinterIron, Series)

In which Tony is HYDRA and Bucky’s handler.

in another country (people die) by pprfaith (FrostIron)

“The world is not your playground, Stark!” Fury yells at him one time, after he maybe brings down a building or two and Tony just laughs because, seriously, yes it is.

on the bleeding edge by esama (Pepperony, WIP, abandoned (still good tho))

Tony Stark goes back in time and becomes a super villain.

Almost Perfect by One and Five Nines (Obani) (Stony, Comic)

A powerful enemy invades from an alternate reality, but the only thing he really seems interested in is Steve Rogers

Eventually by One and Five Nines (Obani) (Stony, Comic, WIP)

Tony is godking of the wasteland. Steve is not.

Victim!Tony fics

Deliver Us by romanoff (FrostIron)

Loki comes back for revenge. Tony Stark is his captive.

“Why,” he tries, voice failing “do you want me.” He coughs into the ash.

“A king needs an advisor. A king needs concubines. A conquering king must learn the ways of the natives or risk expulsion,” he wipes blood from the sceptre with the end of his coat “and I’m rather fond of you, I think. Even in the face of death you use your wit, you charm with your tongue. It reminds me of myself, maybe, one or two millennia ago.”

Terms & Conditions by Penned (WinterIron)

Tony Stark is desperate and trusts too easily. Bucky Barnes takes advantage of that.

A mob AU with no powers, featuring a very dark, very off-kilter Bucky.

(reverse) Kidnapping by AngeNoir (WinterIron)

Tony Stark is wallowing. He has a right to - he's just finished the funeral preparations for his parents in New York. He didn't expect them to live forever, but still...

And then he falls asleep from his bender.

And wakes up in a nightmare.

(Is it a nightmare?)

Anything (and Everything) - remix by Penned (WinterIron)

The Soldier will do anything to make Tony happy, with or without his explicit consent.

Heavily inspired by Shi_Toyu's IronWinter Holiday Exchange fic "Anything." This is a much darker version of that story.

like flowers soaked in monochrome by deathsweetqueen (Stony)

Steve Rogers woke up to a world where everyone he loved and knew had forged on without him. But this world, it's nothing like he's used. It wants something brutal from him, something unforgiving. There are so many compromises to make. There are too many monsters behind kind smiles.

But if it means keeping Tony safe, if it means protecting him, he's willing to do whatever it takes.

He can't be soft.

After all, the weak are meat; the strong do eat.

Sins of Omission by Kiyaar (Stony, WIP (tbh I still haven’t started reading this story, but the tags and summary sound perfect!))

A Post-Civil War, Pre-Secret Invasion AU where Steve is dead, Tony's a mess, and everything sucks.

In which Tony deals poorly with Steve's death, falls off the wagon, sees ghosts, and misses a lot.

Oh, and the Skrulls are about to invade.

That’s it. Read all warnings carefully and enjoy!

#fic recs #winteriron #buckytony #stony #stevetony #frostiron #lokitony #pepperony #only one pepperony tho :(#dark fics

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xplrerdolan · 4 years

Note

Heheh idk if my request sent 🥺👉👈 possibly a Colby angsty fic where y/n is having a really bad day and comes home to Colby crying and he comforts her? Only if you want tho, ily Bb 🥺❤️

u sent this so long ago but here i am, trying my best to finish ONE THING while i’m working on like FIVE THINGS. anyways i love u 🥺

—

Every hour of the day seemed to weigh heavier on your shoulders by the time you were getting out of work. You’d been late that morning because your alarm clock had somehow managed to get unplugged, resulting in your boss’s impatient voice being the first thing you heard when you woke up. After getting ready in a panic, there was, of course, traffic on the way there, making your anxiety spike while there was nothing you could do about it.

When you’d walked into your job, you had sighed, thinking the worst of the day was over and now all you had to do was get through the day until you could go home. But, no. That’s not how things went.

Your boss chewed your ear off some more about being irresponsible and how there was no excuse for being as late as you were, despite having very valid, though unfortunate, reasons for why you’d been late. There wasn’t anything you could do but take it; as is the way with an abuse of power.

When you finally clocked in to work, you were completely swamped all day. You were grateful when your lunch break rolled around, especially since you hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, but once again, your boss told you off. He said you didn’t get to have a lunch break that day since you were late, and that the time you’d lost during the morning could be made up during lunch.

You went back to your desk, fuming and extra irritable from being hungry. You typed away angrily, which you regretted as soon as your spacebar suddenly stopped working. Anger quickly bled into another bout of panic as you tried desperately to fix it yourself without having to tell your boss, but why would that have happened?

Facing your boss once again, you were met with more anger and unnecessary insults on your overall work performance. With each word that flew from his mouth, he chipped away at your ability to remain calm and collected, leaving you nearly at your breaking point when he sent you to request a new keyboard. You sent in the request and tried to take care of any tasks that didn’t require a keyboard.

Finally, you made it to the end of your day, feeling like a husk of the human you once were. You texted Colby that you were on your way home and that you’d be there soon. You just wanted to stop somewhere to pick up food and get home so you could just unwind for a bit. As you waited in the drive-thru line, you massaged your temples until you pulled up to the speaker.

You ordered your favorite fast-food treat, only to be told that, unfortunately, they were all out of one of the essential ingredients they needed to make your order. You couldn’t even respond, you felt so defeated. You drove away and tried to fight the heavy, suffocating lump in your throat as you made your way home. You focused completely on not letting your tears spill over; you did not want to cry. Not while you were driving, and honestly, not at all. You just wanted to be able to go home and go directly into your bed, under the covers, and sleep until the next morning.

You parked in your usual spot and kept your breathing steady as you walked through the front door of your home. Breathe in and breathe out, you coached yourself, keeping your face neutral as you removed your flats that had been digging a blister into your heel all day. You slowly made your way towards your bedroom, passing the living room as you did.

From inside, on the couch, came the cheerful greeting of your boyfriend. “Hey, babe,” he called, standing up to meet you in the hall.

You were more focused than ever on not crying. You turned and forced a tiny smile on your face, not wanting to unload all of your burdens onto him. He had such a busy life, and you knew in your heart that he had to deal with a lot more than you did on a day-to-day basis, so you didn’t want to add any more stress to his life than he already had.

Once he reached you, he put his hands on your shoulders and leaned in to give you a quick peck on the cheek. You were holding it together pretty well... until he asked, “How was your day?” with a sincere smile.

You could physically feel the fascade you were hiding behind break. Just as instantaneously as it cracked in half, you went from a tiny smile to hiccuping sobs.

Colby’s face dropped with concern, the suddenness of your tears catching him off guard. He pulled you into his arms with a wide-eyed expression on his face, trying to figure out how he could blink and miss the moments between you being seemingly okay to you being inconsolably upset. After a moment of trying to figure it out, he decided it wasn’t really that important to know—what was important was finding out what had made you upset and what he could do to help.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles across your back. You buried your face in his chest, not wanting to confront how terrible you were feeling despite being at the mercy of your own emotions—you had no choice but to let it out, even if you wanted to choke it all down.

“Why don’t we go to our room?”

You nodded at Colby’s suggestion, keeping your head down to hide the expression on your face. You held his hand and he let you lead him upstairs to your shared room. Walking in after you, Colby closed and locked the door to make sure you had total privacy. Before he could start to comfort you again, you were moving around the room, taking off your business casual clothes, all while you tried to explain through angry sobs as coherently as you could why you were so upset.

You furiously scrubbed the makeup off your face while you detailed the way your boss seemed to have it on his agenda to ruin your life today. You clumsily stepped into your fuzziest pair of pajama pants while you exasperatedly explained how hungry you were and how many times the day kept you from sitting down to eat. You unclipped your bra from under your shirt and threw it haphazardly across the room, landing somewhere near your laundry basket, before launching into an account of how you managed to break your keyboard and how your boss berated you for it. By the time you had finished ridding yourself of evidence that the day had even happened, you had gone through the events of your whole day, all while speaking (and often screaming) through sobs that had been contained for far too long.

Colby sat on his side of the bed, listening patiently as you got ready to relax, his expression a mix of concern and sympathy. Under the surface, he was fuming about how poorly your boss had treated you today—he wasn’t necessarily a great boss to begin with, but he really took it too far this time. However, he would save that anger for another time; you were the one who needed to let off some steam at the moment.

When you had finished recounting your day, you took a deep breath, your breathing coming out unevenly as you got out all of your anger and were left with feelings of sadness and frustration.

“Come here,” he said softly, opening his arms wide and sitting back against the pillows to allow you to cuddle into him comfortably. At his simple command, you hurried over and climbed into the bed next to him, grateful for the haven his embrace provided you.

It was hard to believe a little while ago you thought you’d be able to keep all of your emotions bottled up inside you. You continued to let everything out, not holding back on any sobs or sniffles. Colby, supportive as ever, encouraged you to stay cuddled up to him for as long as you needed. One of his arms hugged you tight against him while the other continued to caress you in a calming manner.

“I know today was really shitty and getting through it was really hard, and I’m really sorry you had to go through all that,” he began, his voice gentle and low. “But I want to remind you that you did get through it—all of it, even things that you had every right to give up on. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that you decided to quit on the spot as soon as your jackass of a boss even breathed near you.” He earned a tiny chuckle from you as you started to calm down. “Seriously, though, you pushed through a lot today. It would’ve been completely reasonable for you to not go into work after waking up that late, but you pushed through. I could totally understand if you told me you snapped at your boss after he chewed you out, but you pushed through. You could’ve done a lot worse than break your spacebar, and if I were in your position, I probably would’ve—but you pushed through that, too. You even kept pushing after you broke it and couldn’t get any more work done at your computer. And the fact that you didn’t set fire to that fast-food place after they couldn’t make you the only thing you wanted? Your self-control is truly admirable!”

You were giggling softly as Colby continued to compliment you on how you managed to make it through everything you had, looking up at him from where your head was laid on his chest. You could see his smile get bigger with every tiny laugh he coaxed out of you, and watching him get happier as you got happier truly made you feel a million times better. And you had to admit, he was definitely right—you had persisted through a lot that day, maybe even more than you should have.

“I’m proud of you. You’re such a strong person, and I love that about you,” he said, his voice a lot softer now. “You make me want to be strong, too.”

Your eyes were welling up again, but not from negative emotions. Instead, you were overwhelmed with gratitude and love for the man next to you. At a loss for words, you simply reached up and pressed your lips against his, letting your lips do the talking for you.

When you pulled away, you whispered, “Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. I’m glad I could help,” he smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

As if your stomach could sense you were done letting out your emotions, it growled loudly, making both of you laugh. “I’ll order some food now, okay? We can stay in and watch a movie or something. Whatever you want,” Colby said, pulling out his phone to start placing an order.

“That sounds perfect,” you said, kissing his cheek before laying your head against his chest again.

It was funny, you realized, how you had imagined that Colby must’ve gone through so much worse in his daily life that you felt you definitely should be able to handle as much as you had and probably more. Yet here he was, admitting that you inspire him to be strong enough to get through his day. You nuzzled in closer, feeling extra grateful and extra humbled as that reality hit you, and you felt warmer knowing you kept each other going.

#curlyhairedbrock #asks #concept #blurb #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock concept #colby brock one shot #colby brock imagine #colby brock fluff #colby brock angst #colby brock blurb

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sweetiesangster · 4 years

Text

Saviour

Newt x reader

a/n: I’m not very proud of this one, it’s my first one tho

Masterlist Taglist

A thin stream of light breaks through a small crack of a curtain waking him up. He could feel himself laying on a soft mattress, but he can’t remember how he got there. His whole body felt numb, he tried moving but it just hurts his body even more. His eyes dart through the unfamiliar room, it lands on you and his body jumps a little out of surprise.

He hadn't even realized you sitting on a chair right next to his bed. Calmly reading a book. Your eyes are on him now. “How are you feeling?” He ignores your question and once again darts his eyes through the room. He could see the door open and felt a soft breeze through them.

“Where am I?” He asks you. His voice hoarse and dry.

“Somewhere outside Denver.” You shrugged setting the book you were reading aside. You can see him struggling to get up. “Here, let me help you.” You got up from your seat and your arms reached out to him but he pushed himself away. “Don’t worry, I’m helping you.” He gave in and you pulled him up to a sitting position avoiding his bad side.

He realized the source of his pain is from his left side chest, he looked down and saw his chest bandaged up with patches of blood where his wounds are. “What happened?” Newt asks you.

“We found you in the city with a knife on your chest. Somehow you were still breathing, so we brought you back here, along with the other survivors.”

“Survivors?”

“Yeah. If you haven’t noticed, the city went into war.”

“Who are you? Are you with WICKED?”

“No.” Newt doesn’t know why he immediately trusted you. You just brought warmth that gives him a sense of comfort. Comfort that he hasn’t had in a long time.

“The Right Arm?” You shook your head.

“Then who are you?”

“I’m Y/N.” That name just sounds very familiar to Newt’s ears. As he observed you further, he noticed your features. Soft (h/l) (h/c), (s/c), and bright (e/c). It was perfect for him. You are what he called beautiful.

“You should eat, you’ve been unconscious for long. We couldn’t get much in you. I’ll be right back.”

You stood up and smiled at him then turned and walked out the door, closing them behind you. It was then Newt realized he could hear the soft chatter and laughter outside. He reached out to the curtain closest to him and opened them. He saw kids running around and laughing, people gathered around fires talking to each other, smiling. He saw people his age carrying things while talking with others and also smiling. Everyone seemed happy here, not a worry in the world.

For once in his life he felt calm, he doesn’t have to worry anymore. He doesn’t have to worry about finding a way out of a gigantic maze. He doesn’t have to worry about surviving in a scorched world, avoiding cranks. He doesn’t have to worry about WICKED finding him any moment.

A soft knock on the door wakes him out of his trance. He turned to the door and saw you with a tray of food. “It’s just soup, not too much though. You haven’t eaten anything solid in a while, too many of those and you’ll throw your guts out.” You set the tray of food on a small table next to Newt’s bed. “You think you’ll be able to eat by yourself?”

“I’ll try.” Newt says extending his hands to the tray trying to pick it up and put it on his lap, but the pain on his left is just too much.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. You only just woke up.” You tell him while picking up the bowl of soup and a spoon. “Here.” Giving him a spoonful of soup.

“I think I can do it myself.” Newt says with a smile tugging at his lips.

“No, I’m not letting you. Like I said before, don’t push yourself too hard. Besides, I should be taking care of you.”

After lots of awkward eye contacts while you were spoon feeding Newt the bowl is finally empty. You put it aside and gave him a glass of water. “You think you could walk?”

“I’m not paralyzed.” Newt smirked and you chuckled.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” You gave him a hand and Newt happily accepted.

You pulled him up to his feet and he started to walk although you noticed his limp you kept walking with him as if nothing happened. Newt walked outside enthusiastically. He took in his surroundings and he could feel peace in the atmosphere.

“Harry!” He heard you say to someone. Newt turned around and saw the guy for himself. He had very similar features to you. He must be your brother. “This is my brother, Harry. Harry, this is Newt. The guy we found inside the Last City.” You put your arm around his shoulder.

“Right I remember you. I almost didn’t believe it when I saw you breathing.”

They sat down around a fire and talked for a while before you spoke up telling Harry you will show Newt around camp. Harry stood up and walked away saying that he didn’t mind and that he has some other stuff to do. You and Newt then stood up and walked in the other direction.

“So what are you? What are all these people? What do they do?”

“We try to save as many as we can, immune or not immune while keeping each other alive.”

“What about the infected?”

“If their case is not too bad, we take them in and hospitalize them until we find a cure.” You answered with a smile on your face. “Our doctors and scientists have recently figured out that extracting an immune’s blood and putting it in a non-immune or infected will cure them. So we’re working on that.”

“How come I’ve never heard of you?”

“We work in secret. We have spies everywhere, The Right Arm, even WICKED.”

“So what do you do now? Where do you go from here?”

“We want to build a permanent home for these people, in a safe place, away from the scorch. We have word that the Right Arm has reached the safe haven. It’s green there, with grass and trees, rivers, and lakes. It’s the perfect home. That’s where we’re going.”

“Wait so that means…” Newt stares at you in disbelief.

“Yes, we will bring you back to your friends.”

___

7 Months Later

The camp has moved to a better and bigger place thanks to Newt. They are now located at the Right Arm’s old camp on the beach. The search team came home every week with more people searching for a safe place. The camp is growing bigger everyday.

Newt is thrilled at the thought of seeing his friends again. Everyday he worked hard helping any way he can to reach the safe haven as soon as possible.

It is midday. You were sitting on the beach eating your lunch when he joined you with his own lunch. The two of you ate and talked and laughed, you had gotten close over the months. You became the best of friends, but your feelings can’t help but grow.

Every once in a while your mind can't help but wander to him. Every time you sit down to think, all that is in your mind is him. When he talks to you or even be near you, you become nervous. Legs turned to jelly, butterflies in your stomach. Sometimes you can’t even talk straight. You don’t know this feeling, you have never felt it before. You tried talking to your mother but all she did was smile at you and told you you have a crush. You denied it of course.

When you sleep at night your dreams are of you and Newt in the safe haven together and happy. Why would you want that? You’re already happy here, and you’re with Newt. What is that dream telling you?

“Y/N.” Newt snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm, what?” Your head turns to him.

“Lunchtime’s over.” You both stood up and walked over to the crowded area of the camp. Your work today is to load the first ship. The ship’s leaving in a week. The first people to arrive at camp will be boarding that ship to the safe haven. The leaders and volunteers will be going last.

___

The next few months have been a blur. Everyone in camp has finally boarded the ships and are off to the safe haven. The first ship arrived months ago and the people are building their new lives. Now it is your turn to leave the scorch.

You hadn’t had a proper conversation with Newt in a while. You hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone really. Everyone is just busy doing their job and rushing things so that they could have a turn to board one of the ships and leave. You also have been avoiding your feelings for Newt. You thought to yourself that this is no time for love. You should worry about getting everyone to safety. But the butterflies never stopped nor did the feeling of nervousness whenever he’s around.

“C’mon everyone. Last ship to the safe haven. Let’s make it quick.”

The last of the group are in and the ship is ready to go. Newt is sitting on the front of the ship, feeling the breeze on his face and enjoying the moment. He’s finally going to see his friends after what felt like years. He misses everyone, he can't help but wonder how they are and how their new lives are. Then he thought of what life would be like for him. He would be in the safe haven with Thomas, Minho, and Frypan. Living everyday happily without a worry in the world. He could finally be living like a normal boy. With the people he loves the most and you.

You. The girl he has loved for so long. The girl he hoped would someday love him too. Everytime he thinks of a new life, he can’t picture it without you. You would always be by his side. His thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice calling out his name. He immediately knew it was you.

“How do you feel?” You arrived at his side and smiled at his thinking face.

“Amazing.” He smiled like he never did before. He’s going to do it. “I’m finally leaving that hell of a place.”

“If anyone deserves it, it’s you.” You turned your body fully to him.

Newt smiled brightly at you. “I’m finally going to be with my friends and the girl I love.”

Your smile instantly drops. You turned your body at the endless sea in front of you. “That’s great Newt.”

“It’s you.” Newt looks at you with seriousness in his eyes.

“What? What do you mean?”

“You’re the girl that I love. The girl who saved my life.” You turned to him, surprise in your face. You always thought Newt never sees you as more than a friend. But now he’s here, right in front admitting that he loves you.

“Newt, I love you too. I have for a while now, and i never thought that you wou-”

He pulled you to him suddenly and kisses you. You kiss back immediately. It was rough at first but then it turned soft and passionate. You both pulled away, gasping for air. Your smile is the brightest you ever smiled. He pulled you into his embrace and you stayed there.

You both love each other. You know there’s no other way you could spend your days in the safe haven when you have each other. And you will keep living like that as you both keep falling more in love every day.

Part 2

Taglist: @daydreamreader0307

#newt #the maze runner #newt x reader #newt imagine

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unsettledink · 3 years

Text

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

#mysteryspider #spiderio #quenter #quentin beck x peter parker #quentin x peter #mcu #spiderman #gotcha #wip #my work #fanfiction

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