#Coincidence that I joined the fandom this year and it’s that high up? I think not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kunikame · 6 months

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like planets in orbit. - k. youichi

warnings : fem!reader, cussing, more astral references guys i cant stop., violence mention, lmk if i forgot anything, tooth rotting fluff, miyuki and ryou are presidents of kuramochi bully club (eijun is a honorary member), if the fandom is dead i will cry

w/c : 3.6k

kuramochi youichi has witnessed the ever changing inconsistencies life brings with it.

he's seen many people cry over jobs lost, family members gone, or friends who have left; he likes to think he's pretty observant and can tell when something is wrong with people, or get a clear read on their feelings before they know them themselves.

that skill, however, does not apply to himself. when it comes to his own emotions, he is, for lack of a better word, clueless. this, he comes to realize in his 2nd year of high school, after the devastating loss in the finals.

life brings with it many inconsistencies, junior high youichi notes.

most of the friends he had in his younger days he doesn't talk to anymore, some of his grades aren't as good as they used to be, and he himself has also changed over the years.

the one constant in his life– other than his family, however, were you (and his atrocious (your words, not his) yellow hair).

the young girl he met at the playground at the age of 4, when he accidentally ruined your sandcastle with a stray ball.

you didn't cry or scream, like any child would, instead you accepted his apology and got to work on rebuilding it all the while smiling softly. he couldn't deny he felt bad (it looked like it took a while to build, the castle was more of a palace with a town to accompany it), so he stuck around to help you instead.

that started the lifelong friendship between kuramochi youichi and [name].

you accompanied each other to 80% of the places you went, people started thinking of you as the "constantly bought in pair, do not separate" type of oddity around town. if youichi was in one place, there was a high possibility you were somewhere near, and likewise.

dating rumors started spreading at some point, but they were quickly shut down by both of you.

and yet.

when youichi started going around doing his 'punk stuff' and getting into fights, you were there to patch him up. who else would he go to? even though you tried stopping him, very nearly bashing his skull in with your words (stars forbid there be any weapons nearby lest you actually do it), he continued ignoring your efforts. if you were as worried as you said, you'd cry for him, wouldn't you? shed a tear or two? but you never did.

then he got scouted for seidou and you joined shortly after him, through the entrance exams. it's not that you were simply following him– seidou was actually one of your choices even before youichi got scouted, it was a lucky coincidence that you ended up together even in high school; but it was comforting knowing even in a different place with new faces and surroundings, there was still something that resembled home.

he joined the baseball team, and here, you admit, you followed after him– as a manager.

it wasn’t too hard to adjust to the managerial duties or the daily practice sessions, you’ve been helping youichi practice since the day you met him, and the way of the scorebooks was properly explained to you by your fellow managers– thank the universe for them, seriously. the only thing you were having slight trouble with was the fact youichi didn’t seem to be doing too well at the start.

with what was left of his previously-bad-reputation in his system, you were afraid he would pick fights he couldn’t possibly win. all of the 2nd years are so tall and strong– with the exception of kominato– and youichi was.. well, for lack of a better word, a twig. yeah, he picked fights in junior high, and he actually won most of them, but junior high kids are still just that. these are middle schoolers who’ve been on an extremely strict baseball training regimen, which youichi has just started. with his aching muscles and exhaustion, he really would get his ass beat.

so you continued watching over him, from the sidelines this time.

(and, yes, watching over him entailed taking care of him also. it was like second nature– to listen to him complain about minor setbacks, to study up on massage techniques so he can get some relief from his aching muscles because he's youichi and you’re you, to patch up his wounds. all of it was like second nature. you cared for him and in turn, he cared for you.)

wherever youichi went, so did you. wherever you went, so did youichi.

those were facts– laws known by almost everyone the pair of you acquainted yourselves with, mostly the baseball club and your families, but those 2 are almost the same thing, if you were being honest.

the facts you were well aware were true continued to be proven time and time again, even more so when neither of you went to nationals.

which you think would be obvious with how you were the team's manager, so if the team didn’t go, neither did you– not as anyone important, anyway.

at the first lost chance, you didn’t cry. you didn’t just shrug and move on either, you simply took a deep breath and with the words, “maybe next year” you smiled at your seniors and friends and left the stands.

that night you headed out to the seidou baseball grounds alone.

in the lone serenity under the stars, you sat on the mound and cried.

not for the loss that could’ve been a win, not for losing the chance to go to nationals and experience the thrill, but for the 3rd years who lost their final chance.

but wherever you go, youichi goes– and on that cloudless night where he first saw you cry, he promised you he would take you to nationals.

you, in turn, promised to tell him a secret when he does.

he thinks if you smile at him like that again, he might just do anything you ever ask him to.

it is in his (and your) second year of high school when kuramochi youichi has a realization, one he can’t simply shrug off.

mundane things concerning you and him that used to be normal and done without a second thought now had his hands shaking ever so slightly, his heart rate spiking, and his cheeks feeling just a tad warmer.

which would all be okay and simply shrugged off, had it not been for sawamura and miyuki, the bastard duo (and ryousuke, purely because he enjoys bullying youchi).

“so, have you finally admitted your crush to yourself? or are you, perhaps, still in denial?”

for how much miyuki claims to hate having people in his business, he himself sure loves to poke into others. youichi feels his eye twitch.

“what–”

“what crush are you talking about, miyuki kazuya?!”

great. now the other one’s here too. and you seem to have noticed the commotion, since you’re turning his way (he wouldn’t have noticed, had he not been staring at you this entire time) with an eyebrow raised in question. youichi does an exaggerated eye roll while tilting his head towards both annoyances at his sides, and with a giggle you turn back to furuya.

“why, didn’t you know? our dear kuramochi has a–”

“aaand that’s where i’ll cut ya off,” youichi said, slapping his hand on the brunet's mouth, “i don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“but, kuramochi-senpai, you’ve been staring at [name]-senpai for the past 5 minutes. i’m pretty sure you didn’t even blink!”

now his other eye is twitching. he thinks he can actually feel the vein in his forehead bulging the more sawamoron continues speaking.

“i was not!”

“were too, we all saw,” his pink haired senior said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, his intentions written all over his face clear as day.

“i wa– okay, since you’re not gonna listen to me anyway, i’ll just prove there’s nothing between us. on either side. never was, never will be,” said youichi, getting up from his spot on the bench, which had sawamura falling over as he was leaning all his body weight on the green haired shortstop.

he makes his way over to you with an easy goal in mind: have a calm and collected conversation, without triggering his (seemingly) symptoms of illness so he doesn’t worry you, turn around and leave.

question is, what is he gonna talk to you about? conversations with you usually flow naturally, but for the first time ever, youichi finds himself nervous at the prospect of talking to you. his frustrated fast paced steps gradually slow down the closer he gets to you, contrary to his thoughts which are speeding up– he finds himself unable to keep up with his thought process for the first time ever in your presence.

and he doesn’t know why.

for the first time since he befriended you, he realizes the mere thought of you renders him unable to think properly.

sensing his presence you turn his way and his thoughts come to an abrupt stop. all he hears is white noise– like his brain got unplugged and it’s showing one of those black and white static screens– until you utter his name.

“youichi! i was just about to go over there to check what the commotion was about. I’m pretty sure i heard eijun ask about a crush or something. does he like someone?”

why do you want to know whether the first year moron has a crush or not? “him? nah. i don’t think he has the brain capacity to pull someone,” he says offhandedly, a little late to realize you took a liking to his roommate.

“youichi!” you repeat, though angrier than when you greeted him, “don’t say that! he’s just a guy. i think he could be a good boyfriend to someone. he’s nice.”

he finds his frustration growing at that, and still, he doesn’t know why. then you seem to notice something behind him because suddenly you’re grinning and waving. when he turns his head he finds it’s the previously mentioned first year and tanuki bastard and his blood boils– he tries, really, he does, to not let his thoughts bleed through his expression, but with the way miyukis smirk widens a tad, he believes he might have fucked up.

“anyway, what did you need?”

“huh– oh, i was just wondering if you needed help with anything, since you were just standing around here,” he internally apologizes for lying through his teeth, but he can’t have you finding out the real reason.

“mm, not really. jun-san did most of the heavy lifting we needed done already, so unless you wanna stay late to help us collect the balls, nothing much.”

“ah, alright. i’ll stay to help, then. i’d hate it if our poor managers did all the hard work.”

“now you’re just making fun of me.”

“me? why, i would never, who do you take me for? miyuki?”

“you’re even worse than kazuya.”

this is okay, youichi thinks. this is how it’s been for the past 13 years, this is how it should be. friendly banter. you bully him, he bullies you, you take care of him, he takes care of you. that’s how it’s always been.

he chooses to ignore the slight shake in his hands and the sudden warmth on his cheeks.

the next day you’re not in class and his only conversation partner (read: professional bother) is miyuki kazuya. which isn’t necessarily unusual, but usually it’d be the three of you engaged in conversations initiated by you, and now that he’s alone youichi misses you more than ever before.

“are you gonna answer my question or not? are you, perhaps, too shy~”

“if you don’t shut your damn mouth soon i will literally take this pen and stab you with it.”

“how scary~” the tanuki bastard let out his very tanuki like giggle and youichi nearly snapped his pen in half, “come on, you can tell me! i’m your best friend after all!”

“the absolute audacity you have to call yourself that. you know very well my best friends are ryou-san and [name],” though, he can’t particularly deny he has began considering miyuki a close friend as well.

“i believe i’m still a better person to talk about this than either of them. unless you’d prefer to discuss it with sawamura?”

the shortstop lets out a deep, heartfelt sigh of pure annoyance, and miyuki celebrates his victory. only in the depths of his twisted little soul, of course, but celebrates nonetheless.

kuramochi turns in his chair to stare at his friends desk, and with a frown so deep it genuinely concerns miyuki, finally speaks what’s on his heart, “.. i’ve been wondering about this for a while, but what makes you guys think i like [name]? i personally don’t think we’ve done anything to make it seem that way, we’ve always been like this, so–”

“you haven’t,” kuramochi looks up then, only to see the brunet more serious than he’s ever seen him be outside of baseball, “you haven’t always been like that, don’t lie to yourself. had you said that to me last year i wouldn’t have questioned you– granted, i hadn’t known either of you for long back then, but this year you both started acting differently towards each other. it’s not much noticeable to people who don’t know you, but since i spend nearly every waking moment around you guys, it’s about as clear as sawamura wanting the ace number.”

“different?”

“you.. really haven’t noticed? kuramochi, you can’t be serious.”

he slowly shakes his head in denial, thoroughly confused on not knowing what it is he should have noticed. he thought he was supposed to be observant, what happened to that?

miyuki, with his mouth hanging open in disbelief for mere seconds, decided he was nice enough to lead his one (and only) friend in the right direction, at least. if even that fails he might just have to straight up out kuramochi to kuramochi himself.

“you became more.. nervous? flustered, should i say? around her this year. you get fidgety and your hands shake after physical contact sometimes– yes, i noticed, stop staring at me like that. sometimes– actually, pretty often you just stare at her with hearts in your eyes.”

“i do not–”

“oh you do. you stare at her like she hung the stars in the night sky, like she’s what makes the sun shine. you look at her like a man in love would.”

that was kuramochi youichis final straw, he thinks.

a week after kuramochis one-on-one eye-opening talk with his friend, he starts to notice that maybe, perhaps, theoretically, the tanuki bastard might have been right.

the keywords being the verbs expressing his uncertainty.

each passing minute he spends with you, however, he finds himself running out of verbs.

he’s caught himself staring at you very often these past few days. which would be good and all, were you not quite literally staring at him also.

these new occurrences end with both of you looking away with cheeks that are just slightly more tinted than they are naturally, and (usually) miyuki rubbing his forehead in annoyance.

if his newfound realization gets in the way of his practice, coach kataoka will have him sit out the fall tournament for sure. he can’t have that happening, so he shrugs off whatever awkwardness this caused between you to focus on getting to nationals.

he did promise you he would take you there, after all.

with that thought in his mind, he feels his lips curl into a smile, and his fielding starts to look less half-assed than before.

okay, so maybe the tanuki bastard was right, youichi thinks, so what.

it’s normal to have an eeny weeny crush on someone you know better than you know yourself at some point in your life, is it not?

which would be all shits and giggles, were it an ‘eeny weeny’ crush, rather than a ‘oh my god she’s in the same room with me how do i breathe why is she so beautiful oh my god call an ambulance oh my god?’ crush.

he slams his head against his desk, lamenting whatever it is he’s done that got him here. why can’t he just see you the way he’s seen you before?

wait. how exactly did he see you before?

sure, you were always beautiful and nice, helpful to a fault, generous and extremely smart, but have you always sparkled like you do now?

yes. yes you have.

to kuramochi youichi you’ve always sparkled and shone brighter than the lights in rooms you occupied, brighter than the full moon in the night skies and the sun during daytime.

you entered the classroom and upon hearing you greet him his head snaps up and– is that a fucking halo?! (it is a figment of his imagination fueled by the many shojo mangas jun made him read) why are you glowing?

miyuki can only sit back and observe from his seat behind kuramochi as the shortstop looks at his life-long friend as if she herself hung the stars, brightened the days and nights– as if she put the planets in orbit.

and if the planets in the question were kuramochi youichi and [name] was the sun, then perhaps you have. youichi somehow finds himself sucked into your atmosphere, somehow always orbiting you, always in your presence or not far from it. you are always in his thoughts and in his heart, a part of you is always in his conscience and he can do nothing but accept it, embrace it. he is kuramochi, but he is not youichi without you. similarly you are [l/name], but never [f/name] without him. if only he would’ve known sooner that neptune’s slow departure from the solar system symbolized his common sense leaving when he’s around you.

in your second year of high school, with a lot of hard work, you make it to nationals.

during the victory announcement, youichi could’ve sworn he saw a tear stream down your cheek, but it could have just been a trick of the light.

that night you once again meet under the tranquility of the stars on the diamond, but this time, it’s on a more positive note than last year.

“so, what’s the secret i was promised?”

you freeze for a mere moment, as if you yourself have forgotten you ever made him such a promise, then the shock clears out of your eyes and you turn to look at him.

“can’t we push the due date a bit?”

“wha– no! what was it all for?!” he’s waving his arms around to exaggerate his point, “i’ve waited a year for this, wondering each day what could possibly be so special, and now you tell me to wait more?! man..”

you watch his lips curl into a pout and his brows furrow and you know.

“.. not that i wouldn’t, i’d wait however long it takes, if it’s you..” you know.

you feel your face heat up slightly, even though it’s exactly what you predicted he would say. you reach out and your fingers tap against his cheek first, then you place your palm against the warm skin (it continues to grow warmer under your touch, you note).

“thank you for fulfilling your promise, youichi. i love you.”

he can physically feel his heart skip a beat and his neck very nearly break with the abnormal speed he turns his head at. blood is rushing to his head and all he hears is white noise (or perhaps that’s just the cicadas) and your words on a loop in his already you-filled brain. stars, what have you done to him? he thinks he might short-circuit.

but, then again, this could just be a normal, friendly ‘i love you’, as you usually say. he shouldn’t get his hopes up, nor be weird about it, lest you catch on and start distancing yourself from him (not that you would do that, since you didn’t after he threw lizards at you when you were 7).

“you’re welcome,” he smiles, “love ya too, stupid.”

you shake your head and he pauses, “no, youichi. i love you. always have. that’s the secret.”

“.. i’ve always loved you, too..? what do you mean,” he shakes his head to mimic you, then raises an eyebrow in question, as if not agreeing he loves you was a crime (at this point, it might even be).

“i’m in love with you, idiot,” you resist the urge to just smack him at this point, “have been for the past 10 years.”

he’s struck by lightning. hit by a truck. squashed by a rock, even. he can’t even properly describe the bolt he feels striking him upon realizing he is, in fact, an idiot. and so are you, apparently.

idiots in love, as ryousuke once said. now he knows why.

the shortstop grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you back and forth with an almost crazed look in his eyes, “oh my god. i’m in love with you, too! oh my god!”

there’s a sudden sparkle in your eyes and you grab onto his arms, “oh my god! i thought i was going insane whenever i saw you acting like a schoolgirl with a crush!”

he momentarily wonders how much money miyuki will rack up for the bets placed on who will confess first, but that’s an issue for tomorrow.

for now, youichi thinks, the only issue is finding out if your lips are as soft as they look.

(they are.)

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @gabirii @heroesfan101 @celandinee @wizardclown @solxima // ask/comment to be added/removed! (if you're in bold i can't tag you)

#🖋 「txt」#ace of diamond x reader #ace of diamond x you #ace of diamond x y/n #daiya no ace x reader #daiya no ace x you #daiya no ace x y/n #kuramochi youichi x reader #kuramochi youichi x you #kuramochi youichi x y/n #daiya no ace imagines

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

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Eidolon Chapter 2: Whispers

Series: Eidolon

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: None right now, busy being haunted

Rating: MA

Warnings: HORROR

Word Count: 2,203

My other stuff: Master List.

“All I’m saying is they discover a skeleton in the wall and that same night Neville dies in the same room! Tell me that’s a coincidence!”

“It’s a coincidence, Max, calm down.” Drake sat back in his chair with a sigh. Max had always been the high strung one of the group.

“Are we sure it wasn’t drugs?” Tariq asked as he reached for the butter to spread liberally over the flakey golden roll in his hand. “Neville was fond of his cocaine you know.”

“There!” Drake gestured in Tariq’s direction as he looked at Max, “Logical and the most likely explanation!”

“But why is that wall even there?” Liam asked.

“What?” Drake’s head swung in his direction.

“I’m not saying it’s connected to Neville; I’m just wondering why that wall was even built. The other three walls are just the original stone, right? Then on this one side there’s a random brick wall. There’s no purpose for that wall other than to hide her body, right?”

Drake blinked at his best friend, “Her? How do you know the skeleton is female?”

“I….don’t.”

“Oh. My. God!” Max’s eyes got big, “Someone murdered her and hid her body in that wall and now she wants revenge!”

“He or she, whatever it is, has been dead for centuries, Max.” Drake told him, “It isn’t getting revenge for anything. Neville’s death is not connected!”

“He was probably high and wandered down the wrong hallway, that’s all.” Tariq agreed, “Then when he had the heart attack, or whatever, no one was nearby to hear him if he called out for help.”

Drake nodded as he reached for his iced tea, “That makes all the sense in the world. Neville has done more drugs than Ozzy Osbourne.”

Liam fidgeted with his napkin, “Do you think she was dead before she went into the wall, or do you think she was bricked up alive? That would be a horrible way to die!”

“Jesus, Li!” Drake said. “Why are you being so morbid?”

Max looked like he might faint, “Oh God, she definitely wants revenge!”

“On whom?” Tariq asked in amazement, “Whoever did it has also been dead for centuries!”

“Ghosts don’t use logic, Tariq!” Max argued, “We’re all fair game!”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Max!” Drake waived down the waiter, “Anyone else want dessert?”

“Oh, yes, please!” Tariq replied, “What do they have today?”

The four lifelong friends were sitting in the formal dining room of the palace. Since Liam had become crown prince and not just the spare, they had less latitude in where they could meet for their weekly luncheon.

They used to be able to meet in private dinning rooms at upscale restaurants or even sneak into the occasional casual dinning facility in subtle disguises, with appropriate guards and a low profile. Since Leo had left that had all changed. Liam had instructed the group to continue lunches without him, but the other three men were unwilling to abandon their friend so now they met at the palace every Wednesday for lunch. Max called it their hump day lunch date.

They had grown up together then attended university together. After graduation, Liam and Tariq had gone on to graduate studies at separate universities, Drake had joined the military and Max had taken two years to travel the world, citing the need to find himself and stating that self discovery was the greatest journey. They had kept in touch after going their separate ways but face time calls and occasional weekends in Monaco weren’t the same, so once they all ended up back in the capital, they made a pact to carve out time for each other. The weekly lunch date was nonnegotiable.

Max shook his head, “How can you eat like there’s not a homicidal ghost running around the palace-oh! Is that tiramisu?”

“You want some, Li?” Drake asked.

“Sure.” Liam answered absentmindedly, his mind still dwelling on the fate of the skeleton in the wall. How it got there, why it was put there. He shivered, sure that he could feel her suffering. Feel her torment.

Why he was convinced it was a woman, he didn’t know. Other than the fact that he had heard her voice. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He’d had a lot of bourbon the night before. He’d either hallucinated that or misheard some of the servants talking. Of course, they hadn’t answered when he’d called out, they had probably been afraid of getting in trouble for being loud in the hallways after hours.

Still, it had seemed so real, the sound of a woman’s voice calling his name. He pulled out his phone and swiped open his email, checking for updates from the medical examiner. There weren’t any yet.

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Liam’s head snapped up and he looked wildly around the table. There was no woman anywhere in sight and no one else seemed to notice anything, yet he had clearly heard a woman’s voice.

Drake noticed Liam’s expression, “Everything ok, Li?”

“You…you don’t hear that?” Liam asked as his head swiveled from one of his friends to the next.

“Shit! It’s the ghost, isn’t it?” Max’s eyes got big.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Max!” Drake admonished him again.

“Hear what?” Tariq asked.

“It sounds like a woman….crying.” Liam sounded distressed.

“Ghosts cry?” Max asked with genuine curiosity.

Drake sighed and muttered under his breath, “God give me strength!”

“Never mind, it’s nothing!” Liam brushed it off, “I think my ears are ringing. Maybe I’m coming down with a cold or something.”

He wasn’t coming down with a cold, but he wanted everyone to stop staring at him like he’d lost his mind. He knew what he’d heard. But clearly he was the only one that had heard it.

“You should ask Liv for some her homemade cold medicine.” Drake told him, “I swear to God, that shit cured the flu for me last winter!”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, Drake. I’ll do that.”

As if she had been summoned by Drake’s words, Olivia appeared at Liam’s side, “Hey guys.” She took the seat next to Liam and gave him an appraising look.

“Hey, Liv. What’s up?” Liam squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. Why was she looking at him like that?

“Nothing with me. What about you? How did you sleep last night?”

“Fine.” He lied. The nightcap she’d given him had knocked him out but his sleep, and his dreams, had been troubled. He shifted awkwardly in his chair. Liv had never made him nervous before but the penetrating gaze she had fixed him with convinced him she could see right into his soul.

“He has a cold.” Drake supplied, “He might need some of that homemade cold medicine of yours.”

Olivia’s eyes darted to Drake then back to Liam, “Really? Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s nothing, Liv, just a little ringing in my ears, that’s all.”

“You sure that’s all?” She asked.

“I’m sure.” He lied again.

“Alright. I’ll stop by your room tonight with some cold medicine. It’ll knock out anything that’s trying to take hold of you.” She nodded her head then turned to the other men at the table and made small talk while stealing half of Drake’s dessert.

“I can have them bring you your own, you know.” He told her.

“Nah, I’m good.” She said as she took another forkful of his tiramisu.

He pushed his plate over to her with a shake of his head. She’d been stealing his dessert since they were five years old. “How come you never take Liam’s food, huh Liv?”

“She does!” Liam protested, “All the damn time!”

Olivia laughed, “Big babies!”

“What are you doing at the palace, Lady Olivia?” Tariq asked.

Tariq was the only one of the group to address her formally. Max was convinced it was because he liked her, but the one time he’d tried to play matchmaker, Olivia had threatened his life, so he had given up on that particular endeavor. He had learned not to cross Liv when they were eight years old and she chased him up a tree. He’d been stuck up there for thirty minutes until Drake had heard him screaming and come to his rescue.

“Yeah, Liv. What are you still doing here?” Liam asked curiously.

Olivia had grown up at the palace and it wasn’t unusual for her to be there, the room she had occupied growing up was still maintained for her personal use. But she had been spending more and more time in Lythikos over the last few years.

Liv shrugged dismissively as she lifted the fork to her mouth, “Just hanging out, catching up with some of the girls.”

“Seriously?” Drake’s mouth fell open, “I didn’t think you liked any of the girls!”

“I have friends, Drake.”

“Name one.”

Liv opened her mouth, but Drake interrupted her, “Name one that isn’t sitting at this table!”

“And isn’t Savs or Leo!” Liam added.

“You know what?” Liv stood up as she wiped her mouth with the linen napkin, “Fuck you both. I have better shit to do than sit here and be abused by you two assholes.”

“Lady Olivia.” Tariq stood and gave her a little bow.

“Lord Lambros.” She inclined her head, then turned to Liam, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Liam watched her walk away then looked at Drake, “What is up with her lately?”

“Fuck if I know.” Drake said as he pushed away from the table, “But I have an hour blocked off at the shooting range in about fifteen minutes, so I’ll see you guys later!”

“Poker on Friday?” Tariq asked hopefully.

“If I’m not too busy with work.” Drake replied.

“If he doesn’t have a date he means.” Max smirked.

“Not my fault you fuckers are all lame.” Drake laughed as he walked away.

“We are not lame.” Tariq huffed, “Are we?”

“Nah. We’re cool. Like, super cool.” Max assured him, “Right, Li?”

“The coolest.” Liam agreed, “But I have to get back to work now.”

Liam was lying. He did have work and he did need to get back to it, but he detoured to the old throne room.

“Just checking up on things.” Liam said as he sauntered over to the foreman, “How’s it going in here?”

“It’s going just fine, Your Majesty.” The foreman told him, “The wall is almost completely demolished, as you can see. We’re brining in a bunch of dehumidifiers tomorrow to dry out the floor, then we’ll mechanically remove any residue, then we’ll clean it up and polish it.”

“And the foundation?” Liam asked.

“Is fine. Which is weird. There’s no evidence the water came up through the floor. There’s no plumbing anywhere near here and the ground around the palace stays pretty dry and always has. It’s almost like someone filled this room with water for some reason. Which is crazy, huh?”

“Yes.” Liam agreed, “It is strange.”

He surveyed the room, the damp stone floor and the pile of rubble that had been a wall. Once the debris was cleared, all four walls would match again, just the original, bare stone. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a chill crawled down his spine.

He could feel her.

Liam turned quickly to look behind him, his eyes scanning the room. There was nothing to see. His eyes tracked across the exposed beams of the ceiling, down the rough-hewn stone walls, and swept over the thrones on their raised dais. Nothing was amiss. Nothing was out of place.

Everything was wrong.

Every nerve in his body was on high alert, the air crackled with some sort of energy, real, tangible, material. There was nothing to see, but he was feeling more than he’d ever felt in his life. He resisted the urge to reach his hand out, convinced there was something tactile in the air around him, palpable, just a fraction of an inch the other side of visible.

“Is everything ok, Your Majesty?”

Liam’s attention snapped back to the foreman, “Yes, fine, thank you. Just coming down with a bit of a cold. I’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for the update.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

That night, something moved through the darkness of the old throne room, slithering across the floor, something a shade or two darker than the dark, moving over wet stone, gliding through the deserted chamber, calling out. It was hungry. So hungry.

Liam was woken the next morning by someone pounding on the door. He drug himself to the door and cracked it open, “What?”

Drake was standing in the hallway, fully dressed in his guardsman uniform. Liam knew it was Drake’s first day back to work after a few days off, but he was confused as to why he was at his door before breakfast. It was too damn early, and Liam had tossed and turned all night. Even after drinking Olivia’s cold medicine.

Drake took in his best friend’s appearance. Liam was standing in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, his hair tousled, cowlick standing straight up. “Get dressed Your Majesty, we have another dead body.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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peacereturnedtothevalley · 11 months

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My tumblr and online life history. If you even care (it’s long and rambling I’m bored on a plane)

[pretend there is a read more button here and just keep scrolling]

I got a tumblr summer of 2011 bc my brother kept showing me #fresh memes and around that time my online activity was scrolling endlessly though canihazcheeseburger network of meme sites. I was 17 so lol 12 years…

it started with memes and fandom type gifsets (and following some irls) but after a year or so I completely entered my #sjw era and nothing a decade ago is perfect but I’m always vaguely thankful for tumblr putting me in that direction

in 2015 I got frustrated and locked myself out of my account on purpose and then could not reverse it the next day because I changed the email to an email yahoo decided to delete lol.

I made a new account soon after but exclusively for following and reblogging steven universe stuff but I ended up becoming more and more general again after a few months… I remember so much mess and drama but I also never directly talked to any of those people so it was just a one person stomach ache time

Got really into taz in my last quarter of college in the summer (monster factory a few months before) and this was what made me start a twitter in 2016… I never talked to people directly online before as much except a handful of mutuals (hi if you’re still on here) so slowly joining in that was fun! Also messy I saw all of the highs and lows of taz fandom, made and lost friends (mostly from the periphery of a group but a handful of direct breaks lol) and in that actual play space I had friends get into friends at the table… I listened to a few eps of counter/weight and could Not keep it going so when twilight mirage was starting it was a good opportunity to follow along instead of a backlog. Also finally realized I was slowly iv rating to tweeting full time rip

Also 2017 I made a few fatt friends but I was scared to talk to the fandom bc I still liked taz a lot and fatt fans you know how we are (I too am like that now) but anyways I had like 10 followers to my name and nothing to lose so I started posting more in 2018 and I have gained lifelong friends in the fandom since :’) I feel like twilight mirage was such a contentious era so I got really close with my #tmstan friends and all the stress of that time is a memory now….

I did listen to almost every season eventually but I did fall off of keeping up with fatt 2021/2022 I think (so sorry sangfielle)

unexpected side plot of my life is loona and kpop in general. I was vaguely into loona from seeing stuff on tumblr in 2018 and something clicked for me with the butterfly comeback in 2019, as in it was the first time I was watching performances on music shows and it was really cool to me and I also had no idea what was going to happen to me (the great 2019 loona hiatus) and I slowly was starting to follow kpop liking accounts outside of a handful of tumblr people I followed on twitter and unfortunately the hiatus made me check out other groups and I love the music (loved…? It’s still good when it’s good but it’s not always good) and understood too much about the minutia behind the industry but I also made more lifelong friends (I hope? Hi carbs)

Kpop era coincides with my not listening to sangfielle era but I think my attention span was shot and all I wanted to do was fill my head with music…

Wait okay I had also a career change (don’t worry about that) and also got really into final fantasy xiv. So that’s another era of my life that is neither fatt or kpop. I was gaming so much and I love my cat girl and my catboy wife. I started right before endwalker dropped and now I’m too caught up but I was solidly playing for 2 years straight. I’m playing Zelda for now but I’m almost done

Okay anyways fatt season palisade started up earlier this year and my fatt era is back in full swing. Went to a fatt friends’ wedding this april. Palisade is really good every week. And now twitter is dying so I have returned to Blog for Real. I’ll post my cohost hear if I end up there more lol

#about me I guess #before tumblr I would frequent one manga forums #pokespe forum #Facebook I guess #neopets #random free games #I was always hashtag lurking and got really confused by interpersonal drama #what do you mean you’re on a Pokémon forum and are dating but also broke up

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captainsophiestark · 2 years

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Art is Chaos

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022! Requested by anon

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: "Adaptable, I like that"

Summary: Ward's going undercover in his nightmare scenario - as a hippie art teacher named River. He'll need all his training to pull this one off, but the combination of a pretty girl and a terrible coincidence of his co-art teacher being named Grant might be too much for even Agent Grant Ward's training to manage.

Word Count: 3,541

Category: Uhhhh probably like fluff with humor and a little bit of angst?

A/N: Guysssss this is my 500th post! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Here’s to 500 more I guess lol!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Grant's POV

"I'm going undercover as an art teacher? Sir, you've got to be kidding me."

"What's the matter? Don't think you can pull it off?"

I scoffed and crossed my arms, looking at Coulson still sitting behind his desk. He just stared back at me, his face completely blank. I hated how easy it was for him to get under my skin.

"Of course I can do it," I replied, knowing full well I was giving him exactly what he wanted. "I just don't think 'art teacher' is really my type."

"What is your type, Agent Ward?"

I fell silent, unable to come up with an answer that didn't sound like a five-year-old would say it. I huffed and looked at the ceiling, then turned back to Coulson with a slight scowl.

"Fine. We'll stick with the planned cover. But if Skye or FitzSimmons says anything, I'm throwing the nearest can of paint in their faces."

The corner of Coulson's mouth quirked up. "Duly noted. Now get going, we don't have a lot of time. The sooner you get teaching, the sooner we catch our target trying to arrange an illegal technology buy in the middle of your class."

"Yes sir."

I nodded and headed out of the room, trying not to look too bothered as I passed Skye on my way to grab my bag. The last thing I needed was her or anyone else asking questions about my cover.

The world outside the bus was about to meet River West, the hippie art teacher from Portland, but I didn't need anyone on the bus besides Coulson to know about him.

****************

Y/N's POV

I smiled to myself as I pulled open the door to the painting studio just a few blocks from my apartment. It had been open for a while now, and had been offering art classes for months, but today was the first time I'd actually gotten around to taking one.

The studio was bright and airy, with tables and easels set up all around the room. Several of the easels were already taken, and two men stood chatting at the front. I wandered over to an easel in the middle, which stood right beside one a friendly-looking woman already stood at.

"This easel taken?" I asked as I approached. She turned to me with a friendly smile and shook her head.

"Not at all, be my guest."

I nodded my thanks, then dropped my bag and took a second to look over the various art supplies piled around my canvas. I hadn't painted in a long time, but I'd seriously loved doing it when I was in high school, so I couldn't have been happier to have the chance to do it again.

Once I was satisfied with my setup, I turned back to the woman next to me with a smile.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," I said, holding out my hand for a shake. She took it and smiled back at me.

"Sarah. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Sarah. So, have you taken one of these classes before?"

"Oh, yeah. I absolutely adore painting, so any chance I find to get behind an easel and spend the day like this, I take it."

"That's awesome," I said, completley meaning it. "I want to paint more often, so maybe I'll follow your lead."

"You should. The teachers are all great, too, although that guy on the left is new."

She nodded towards the tall, handsome man with dark hair, and I watched as he set up the last few supplies for the class. After a second, I realized I'd been staring, and turned to find Sarah grinning at me.

"I guess he's already got one fan," she teased. I felt my face heat up, and I waved my hand at her in a shushing motion, but she just laughed. Mercifully, I was spared from further teasing by the beginning of the class.

"Alright everybody, welcome to Art and Soul," said the guy I hadn't been staring at. He smiled out at all of us, his bright red hair fitting in with the bright colors around the rest of the room. "I'm Grant, and this handsome man to my right is River."

River, the one Sarah had caught me staring at, gave us all a smile and nodded with his hands behind his back.

"We're going to be your instructors for today," Grant continued. "Don't hesitate to ask us if you have any questions or need anything, and remember, there's no 'right way' to do art. The most important thing today is that everyone has a good time. So, without further ado, let's get to painting, yeah?"

We all let up a small cheer, and I smiled as I focused in on both instructors. They walked us through the basic steps of a painting we could create if we wanted to, and I decided I might as well follow the prompt, at least for today. After doing a quick pencil sketch to get an idea of the lines and shapes I wanted to build, I was finally painting again, and damn it felt good.

After the first few minutes, the teachers started walking around to look over our paintings and see if we needed any help. I tried not to freak out too much when I saw River, the handsome teacher, coming my way.

"Hey, this is looking good," he said, coming to a stop beside me. He gestured at the different brushstrokes on my canvas before looking at me with a smile. "You've got some real talent here."

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I glanced down at the floor. River didn't budge, just stayed right over my shoulder until I finally looked up at him. He grinned right back.

"Thanks," I said. "I haven't done it in a while, so we'll see if it stays this good, but..."

"Hey, what's the matter, you didn't hear my co-teacher earlier?" he asked, hands on his hips and a small smile on his face as he fixed me with a look. "There's no such thing as bad art."

My lips slowly pulled up into a smile, and I nodded to River.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. I'll be back in a few, alright?"

I nodded my thanks, and River shot me a wink before striding off to the set of easels behind me. I stared straight ahead at my canvas while I tried to get my giddy expression under control. I finally widened my horizons from my tunnel vision when I felt more confident, only to find I hadn't done a very good job.

"So... River, huh?"

I threw my hands over my face as Sarah gave me a sly look. She just laughed, and I sighed as I picked up my paintbrush and tried to distract myself by adding some brushstrokes to the canvas. Sarah nudged me and I shook my head, but I couldn't keep a smile off my face.

"What do you want me to say?" I finally sighed. "He's handsome."

"That he is," she chuckled. "No judgement here. You go get him."

We carried on working with minimal River interruptions for a while, as my painting of the ocean beyond the trees of the forest started to take shape. I set down my larger paintbrush and looked over my remaining supplies for a wiry brush to make the leaves of the trees, but it was missing.

I looked around, but both River and his co-teacher Grant were busy. Sarah was across the room talking with another student, and I didn't want to interrupt any of them, so that meant I needed to improvise.

I furrowed my brow as I looked around for inspiration, finally finding it when my eyes landed on my bag. I dug around for a few seconds then pulled out a handful of bobbypins and a hairtie. Perfect.

I used my hairtie to bind the narrow ends of the bobbypins together, and then dipped the splayed-out unconnected ends into the green paint. I gave them a few experimental swipes over my trees in the furthest corner to make sure I liked the way it looked, and was pleased to find that I did.

Art hacking like a pro.

Now that I had all the tools I needed, I completely zoned in on perfecting my pine trees. The world around me faded away as I worked, and I lost myself in my painting so much that I didn't even notice River showing up beside me until he spoke.

"You're using bobbypins as a paintbrush?"

I jumped, jerking my makeshift paintbrush up and thankfully away from the canvas. I laughed as the adrenaline faded a little, looking to River with a smile.

"Geeze, you scared me," I breathed.

"Sorry. You were really into your painting, weren't you?"

"I mean, yeah. You must know how it gets when you're in the zone."

River looked down and nodded, but didn't say anything. His lips were pursed and he didn't meet my eyes until a few moments later, with a smile on his face again.

"So... the bobbypins?"

"Oh! Yeah, I didn't have a wire brush, and you and the other teacher were busy," I explained. "I was gonna borrow one from Sarah, but she was talking to somebody on the other side of the room, so I improvised."

River glanced from me to Sarah when I mentioned her, but his eyes quickly came back to me. His smile had dropped for a second before returning, and he leaned in a little closer to me.

"Improvising art supplies," he said, sounding impressed. "Adaptable, I like that."

I pressed my lips together tightly to try to suppress my smile and glanced down at my feet again. When I looked back up at River, his eyes were still on me, a kind smile on his face. We held each others' stares for a few beats, and it was like he had his own gravity, pulling me slowly towards him. The distance between us closed, bit by bit, and I thought we were actually going to kiss in the middle of an art class before something seemed to snap River out of it.

He pulled back quickly, his eyes darting to a place over my shoulder before looking back at me. He cleared his throat, for once looking as flustered as I felt.

"I'll, uh- hm, I'll be right back. Sorry."

With that, he hurried off to the other side of the room. I watched him go, unable to help the disappointment pooling in my chest. What had happened?

I tried to shake it off as I turned back to my painting. I'd finished with the trees, so I didn't have to go back to the bobbypins, and Sarah was mercifully on the other side of the room so she couldn't tease me about anything.

The class continued, and River mostly kept to the other side of the room. Sarah floated between the easel next to mine and one in the back left corner, but she never failed to bring up River when she came back to our neighboring canvasses. Despite the unexpected stressors, however, I still found myself enjoyinig the experience.

Finally, it was time for me to put the finishing touches on my painting. Once the last brushstrokes were in place, I took a step back to admire my handiwork. It certainly wasn't perfect, but that was just part of the art. I'd had fun making it, and I liked the way it looked, so as far as I was concerned, it was a success.

The only thing left to do now was to sign it. I glanced down at my station, but all my brushes were filthy with other colors, and the pencil marks would fade faster than I wanted them to. I debated digging into my bag and seeing if I could find some liquid eyeliner, but for my signature on my masterpiece, I didn't really want to find an improv solution.

I glanced up and scanned the room for River, but he was in the far back corner again, hovering around the easel that Sarah kept visiting. Sarah, this time, was next to me, one eye on River. I sighed heavily and decided I didn't want anything to do with that, especially since I was here for a nice, relaxing day of art. I turned and found the other teacher, Grant, instead.

"Grant!" I called across the room. The redhead turned, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw River whirl around too. I turned to look at him, and found Sarah staring at him from next to me too. Nobody moved for a few beats, and a strange silence fell over the room. Then, the man at the canvas Sarah kept visiting whirled around with lighting speed and levelled a punch at River.

"Oh my God!" I cried. I thought for sure he was about to be laid out, but he ducked the punch with lighting reflexes of his own. Before I could blink, he returned fire, knocking the guy out in a single punch as the rest of our class screamed and ran for the exits.

"I knew it," I heard Sarah mutter as she dug into her bag. To my shock and horror, she pulled out a gun and started heading across the room for River.

The room was basically empty now, aside from me and Sarah. River had disappeared in the chaos, although Sarah was clearly searching for him as she prowled across the room. I took a few terrified steps backwards, away from her, trying not to make any noise or sudden movements.

I kept moving backwards, and thankfully, Sarah didn't notice me. I felt like I was about to have a heartattack, but I forced myself to stay calm as I slowly edged backwards. It all crumbled in an instant, however, when a hand clamped over my mouth and a strong arm wrapped around my waist before pulling me backwards.

I started to scream, but it quickly died in my throat as I was yanked around a corner, out of sight of Sarah. My back hit the wall, but not very hard, and I came face to face with River staring at me intensely.

"I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth," he said, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. "Don't scream, alright?"

I nodded, and slowly, he pulled back his hand. I stared at him, trying to calm my racing heartbeat, but considering the events of the last few minutes I really couldn't do much.

"What. The hell. Was that?" I hissed, finally finding my breath. River grimaced and looked at the ground.

"A rookie mistake," he muttered. I raised my eyebrows and gave him an exaggerated look, so he sighed and continued. "My name's not River."

"What?"

"My name is Grant Ward-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, Grant? Like, the other art teacher Grant?"

River–Grant, apparently–huffed an irritated sigh. "Believe me, I was so much more pissed about that than you."

"Why did you need a fake name to be an art teacher?"

"I'm not an art teacher. I'm a SHIELD agent, here undercover to find your friend Sarah and her buddy in the back of the classroom. They've been using this space as a cover for meetups and scheduling illegal trades of highly dangerous alien technology."

My mouth dropped open, and I couldn't do more than gape at Grant in shock. He gave me a sympathetic look, then took a step back.

"You need to get out of here," he said. He nodded down the hallway, where there was a back exit out of the building. "Go meet up with everyone who's out on the street. You'll be safe out there."

"Wait! What about you?"

"I'll be fine. This is my job, I'm used to it."

With that, he ducked back around the corner and into the room where Sarah presumably still waited with a gun.

I stared after him, completely unsure what to do for a few beats. I glanced back at the door behind me that Grant had pointed out, and took a few steps in that direction when I heard Sarah's now-familiar voice.

"You really had it bad for her, didn't you, Grant?" she taunted. "That was an embarrassingly stupid mistake you made, giving away your identity just because a pretty girl called your real name."

I grimaced. I needed to get out of here. Grant was trained, and I was not. I had no idea what I was doing. I'd probably get in the way and be more harm than help.

"And now, that little mistake is going to cost you. Let's send a little message to SHIELD, shall we? About what happens when you try to meddle in places that were better left alone."

Against my better judgement, I turned back towards the classroom and quickly crossed to the doorway Grant had snuck me out of. I don't know if it was curiosity, stupidity, or something else, but I just had to go back. I peeked around the corner to find Sarah with her back to me, arms up, and a gun pointed at Grant. There was enough space between them that Grant had no shot at getting the gun from Sarah, and I could see in his face that he knew it.

"Any last words, Grant?" Sarah taunted. He took a deep, fortifying breath, and in that gap, I followed my gut instincts and threw caution to the wind. I sprinted into the room at full-speed and tackled Sarah from behind with all the force I could muster.

We hit the ground together, and she shrieked as we went down. It only took a few seconds for her to flip me off of her, and I saw my life flash before my eyes as she whirled on me. Then, at the last second, she collapsed unconscious to the ground instead.

I looked up to see Grant standing over her, a painter's palette that he'd used to knock her out in his hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly dropping to a crouch in front of me. I smiled at him and nodded, the terror turning into giddyness as the adrenaline dump hit.

"I'm great. Is that a painter's palette?"

"What? Yes, it is. Y/N, what were you thinking? That was incredibly dangerous-"

"Adaptable," I said, breaking in and giggling as I fixed him with what I hoped was a flirty look. "I like that."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but I caught a faint smile on his face despite how hard he tried to hide it. He straightened and held out a hand to help me up, which I took.

"You should've gotten the hell out of here," he said. We stood almost chest to chest, and he hadn't dropped my hand.

"And where exactly would you be if I had?"

"I would've been fine." I just raised an eyebrow at Grant, and after determinedly holding my stare for a few moments, he sighed. "Alright. You might've saved my life."

I grinned, although I wasn't completely sure why. This was not the kind of situation that should've had me smiling.

"So..." said Grant, dropping my hand and taking a half-step back as he surveyed the scene around us. Police sirens sounded outside, and we could hear the nervous chatter from the evacuated crowd, too. "I need to clean this up. But... I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee afterwards, if you'd be interested. Since you saved my life and all."

I beamed back at him as I answered. "Honestly? You definitley owe me a coffee and a little more explanation after all of this."

Grant let out a small laugh as he stepped a little further away from me and grabbed some drop sheets from the far side of the room to start tying up Sarah.

"You're on. I'll call you when I'm done here," he said. "In the meantime, you should probably head out. I've got a badge to get us out of any questions the cops might have, but it'd probably be better if your name didn't come up at all."

I nodded and took a few steps towards the back door, grabbing my painting and bag as I went. I paused just on the threshold and stared at Grant as he continued to round up the apparent criminals and made sure their weapons were accounted for.

"Grant... do you... need my number? Or something?"

He paused his work to look up at me with an arrogant grin.

"I'm an agent of SHIELD. I'll find you." I raised an eyebrow, and after a second, he dropped the act. "Your number's on the class roster. I'll call that."

I laughed and nodded, giving Grant a small wave as I headed down the back hallway. I probalby wouldn't be coming back to this painting class, if I were being completely honest with myself, but I didn't mind. I could pick back up painting on my own just fine, from the safety of my own home.

Besides, the class wasn't going to be a total wash. I'd found Grant, after all, and every time I thought about him my heart leapt. And since everyone had come out of it okay, I felt perfectly comfortable saying a little chaos was worth the result.

Chaos was my favorite kind of art, after all.

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thewomaninlilywhite · 1 year

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Love looking back at my life and being like "I was always the friend no one wanted in the group"* and like I think that's why I'm like the only 24yo who doesn't have a group of friends. And like it's so exhausting to have to make individual plans with one person at a time who lives minimum an hour away every so often and so I just cut off all my friends because it's all so overwhelming

*in elementary school my friend group all read the Clique books and we were all assigned (by our self-proclaimed Massie) characters... I was Strawberry, the social reject that everyone hates in the series

In middle school my friend group wrote show scripts (the girl whose house wed congregate at had a recording studio in her basement because her dad was a music producer) in one I was the annoying buzzkill teacher who had to put up with the antics of the rest of the group, in the other I was the overly-perky character who all the other characters would constantly shut down

In high school I was never invited to anything. I was "accidentally" left out of group chats with some of my "best friends" and my "squad" would lie about hanging out together without me. I always had to force my way into social situations, I would ask to join, they'd hesitate to say yes, never acknowledge me when I'd try to initiate conversation, and make me feel unwelcome wherever we went.

In college, my friend group made a new group chat without me and one other girl in it. The other girl was the Ex of one of the Hot Shots of the group, so, though a stupid reason, I get why they wanted her out. I don't know why they kicked me out.

Same person who made the new group chat kicked me off the dance team junior year because I brought "negative energy" to practice... I was severely depressed, putting up with my grandma dying, a very toxically abusive professor, and being a Voice major with Laryngitis during FINALS all at once... I tried to commit suicide twice in the days after I was kicked off because of an issue I was having with the professor and I no longer had my one healthy coping mechanism

The Matilda fandom was the one place I felt loved and accepted, but we eventually all grew apart 💕💕

Then I felt that way in the Byler fandom... until the discord I was in turned into college 2.0 (because I'm pretty sure there's another discord with like everyone from the other server but me in it) and whenever I would say something or try to make conversation or make a joke or something people would like pity respond. I'd never get the hype or reactions that other people got. And like it's probably just a coincidence that the dnd server that seemed to be super active died basically at the time I joined... when all of my "friends" had been in it since like the beginning. And now it feels like it's too late. They've all become popular and I don't want to force myself into somewhere I don't belong but I just want to know why. What happened. Why did I get left in the dust? Why is it always me who gets left in the dust ??? It seems like this past summer when the tag was taking off was the time to establish friendships. That's what happened with Matilda. But unlike then, no one wanted to keep those friendships with me, I guess and now it's like too late to make friends

The universe just really doesn't want me living my life huh

It's not like anyone ever takes notice when I go a while without posting

#if you read this whole thing I'm sorry that you follow me you're probably too cool to be on my blog 😭😭😭#I should be asleep #I'm not spiraling just thinking I swear

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 3 years

Link

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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ditttiii · 4 years

Text

Enchanted To Meet You || 5.5 || JK’s Interlude.

Banner by: @thebannershop

◈ Summary: No one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates, for that matter. Humans don't have soulmates, but shapeshifters do. What are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren't even human

BTS is on a hiatus and ARMY thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. You believe that too, at least you did until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as Hybrids because apparently, you all are soulmates.

◈ (Hybrid AU // Soulmate AU) (Fluff // humour // smut // angst // eventually NSFW) (NC-18) (Ot7 x Reader) (slow burn)

◈ series master-list

◈ Word Count: 2051

◈ Warnings: Maybe one curse word? PG-13 (sfw)

You're the debt that brought me back to my life 너는 내 삶에 다시 뜬 햇빚 The Second Coming of My Dreams as a Child 어린 시절 내 꿈들의 재림 I don't know what this feeling is 모르겠어 이 감정이 뭔지 Is this a deceitful dream? 혹시 여기도 꿈 속인건지

Jungkook hates quite a few things in his life at the moment—hates having to hide from his soulmate, hates that he has to pretend like he was just a rabbit and not a living, breathing human too, however more than anything else he hates himself.

God, he despises himself now more than ever. He had hurt you, made you cry, made you fear your own home. He was supposed to be someone you felt safe with, and yet he almost gave you a heart attack today.

Jungkook at the moment feels like a fraud, a sham as he gazes at you—looks at your peaceful, sleeping face. Small, warm puffs of breath hits his head and he feels his fur move under the soft force.

‘Tingles’, He thinks.

He feels your warm presence cocoon him as his body heat mingles with yours. Here, curled beside your sleeping figure like this, he can't help but curse himself. His self-loathing at an all-time high, as he thinks back to what had happened a few hours ago.

He knew it was a possibility, knew that it could happen.

The chance of you coming home suddenly and catching him in his human form wasn't an improbable one.

Jungkook, though, couldn't stand it anymore. It wasn't like he would have died if he hadn't shifted, but being a rabbit all the time wasn't the most comfortable feeling ever either.

His bones ached, and his muscles were sore because of the prolonged shifted state.

He also wasn't used to being in his animal form for an extended duration of time. He'd usually shift back after a few hours, and so this wasn't a problem he had been aware of before.

The feeling of staying shifted for days on end had him feeling claustrophobic. It was the kind of claustrophobia he thinks he would experience if he was locked inside a too tiny box with his limbs wrapped awkwardly and uncomfortably close to his body.

Suffice to say it wasn't the most comfortable state of being.

His plan was to make use of the few minutes while you were out shopping to shift back to his human form and just stretch. He hadn't planned on staying like that for longer than maybe ten minutes. But when he had shifted-back the relief—oh god, the relief was almost intoxicating.

It's potency so concentrated, he had ended up groaning out loud as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The numbing, constant aching of his bones and muscles, more than anything else, had left him feeling exhausted for the last few days. The pins and needles feeling when he had shifted back was enough to send him tumbling down onto the floor, as his unsteady feet refused to hold his weight.

Jungkook had been practising boxing with his trainer before all of this had happened. He also had a black belt in Taekwondo—the very principle of which was to harness an indomitable spirit. He was fit, active, athletic and buff. Staying shifted for extended periods into a form so much smaller than his human one, was borderline torturous at times.

Jungkook simply did not know how he was supposed to hold back.

He had many qualities that he was admired for, but iron like self-restraint wasn't exactly one of them. Maybe, more like the lack, thereof the aforementioned, self-restraint would be more appropriate.

Jungkook wasn't born talented. Not like the rest of the band members. As a student, he wasn't really the brightest pea in the pod either, his math skills are still nothing to boast about.

What most people saw was the end product, the final result that would come out after Jungkook would spend hours, days—months, perfecting it. He had said it before, but in reality, he wasn't as perfect as his stage persona portrayed him to be. While BTS's Jungkook was perfection personified, with his precise dance timings and on-point vocal notes, Jeon Jeongukk struggled.

When Jeongukk had first joined BTS, he had been more of a dancer than he was a singer. He had never, ever had the assumption or even the hope, that he would be chosen as the main vocalist. When he was rejected during the auditions for Superstar K, the talent show, Jeongkook was heartbroken.

It wasn't something he had ever talked in-depth about to ARMY, but his confidence in his vocal skills had taken a hit that day. He had chosen his then idol, IU Noona's song, and had sung it for weeks, perfected every single note until the feel of that vibration, the beat of that rhythm had synced to his very pulse.

But he was rejected, cast out before his audition could even be broadcasted.

He till date can't fully understand why bighit, let alone seven fucking agencies, had thought he was worth their time. Maybe it was fate playing its card and bringing him together with his soulmates, or it was just a coincidence—he didn't know why and probably never would.

He knows that it wasn't exactly a necessity for all of his soulmates to be idols, you clearly weren't. He knew precisely how lucky he was, and was therefore so utterly thankful that he could share his passion and love with all of his soulmates.

Yes, All of his soulmates, you included.

Jungkook isn't a snooper, not really. Sure, he has always been curious by nature, and his maknae persona only fuelled that image, thus overtime making him seem more like the baby in the group—but no he wasn't a snooper.

He knows how much he values his personal space and, so would never deliberately try to breach upon someone else's but you—god you, made him do things he would never choose to do before.

He hadn't wanted to, or well maybe he did want to, but he definitely didn't mean to. It wasn't like he had been planning to check your laptop folders.

No, because when just stretching hadn't quite fully loosened his body, he had thought he'd do a quick dance routine and get the blood flowing. How was he supposed to know that he would find BTS songs, their songs, his songs on there?

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he still was. Their fandom was pretty big, and the chances of a college girl listening to their music were pretty high. You were part of the demographic that they aimed and catered most towards, so it was to be expected, but it still caught him by surprise.

Dressed in one of your loose hoodies and a pair of loose pyjamas, he looks at the screen.

His breath still hitched in his throat as his eyes widened, glossy, doe-like large and oh so so curious.

His grip on the back of your chair slips, as he stumbles before getting a hold, and slowly sinks down onto the empty seat. Thinks about how you have probably spent hours pouring over your medical texts in the same exact chair, and that makes him feel closer to you.

He has been curled around you, has slept with his face literally pushed into your cleavage, but somehow the simple act of sharing a space that you spent a lot of your time in, sends his heart racing as a small smile overtakes his lips and he bites them to stop it from spreading entirely.

He fails, of course, he does.

He clicks on the folder titled 'BTS' and watches a list of sub-folders pop up on his screen. His heartbeat rises—thuds and beats strong enough that he feels it in his ears, in the back of his throat, in the wrist that touches the table as he glides the mouse across the surface.

His palms feel sweaty, and he feels this anxious feeling pool somewhere deep in his stomach, as his gut squeezes. It feels like his conscience is telling him something. That he shouldn't be doing this. This feels like something dangerous, but something he desires. The folder the screen displays the apple to his Adam.

You? his forbidden fruit.

His breaths grow shorter, as he unconsciously tries to be as quiet as he can be and leans forward to look at the vast array of songs you had. As his eyes rake over the meticulously named albums with their years after them written in brackets, he almost chuckles.

He isn't surprised to see that you were anal about categorizing your songs too. From what he had observed of you in the last few days, he would be more surprised if you weren't.

His finger glides over the scroll wheel of the mouse, as he reads the titles of the songs. Every single song they had released was on there—Official and covers.

Every. Single. One.

Whether you were just a really dedicated ARMY or it was because of the soulmate bond, he didn't know, but it doesn't matter to him what the reason was.

Because there they were, he and his hyungs splayed all over your computer screen. Their photoshoots all lined meticulously year after year, their random pictures that you had probably picked up from twitter or weverse grouped by year and then there were screenshots.

Screenshots of tweets, weverse, certain parts of interviews of theirs, that you had ever liked were all there. It was fascinating, surreal, insane to be able to see himself and the hyungs through your eyes, the eyes of their soulmate.

Somewhere, between finding you in that shelter, to now living with you, he had stopped thinking of you as human, as someone different.

Yes, you weren't quite the same as he was, but he didn't care anymore. Because you loved him, you cried for him, you laughed with him and more than anything else you completed him. Filled his aching, longing soul with love until it overflowed and he felt full, content—sated. His thirst for your presence quenched, for once in all his life.

However, the realisation that he had found his last soulmate hadn't fully sunk in yet. He couldn't even imagine what the others must be feeling right now, he was sleeping curled around you and, yet all he wanted to be was closer, it was this all-consuming feeling that kept pulling him under, dunking him in its depths.

The crazy part was he didn't even mind it anymore, he would drown in the deepest depths if he could feel your hand pulling him closer in there, your lips locking with his as you breathe air into him, save him, make him yours.

Kami, he wanted you to make him yours, mate him, mark him.

He knew it wouldn't happen anytime soon, you didn't even know they were your soulmates. Sure, you liked them as artists, but what teenage or college girl didn't have a favourite band? They could very well just be a passing fascination for you at this point, a fleeting interest, a secret guilty pleasure before you move on with your life.

Wasn't that how fame usually worked? It was eager, intense, loud until it suddenly wasn't and one was left with a gaping hole in their heart, that they aren't ever able to fill after.

Jungkook didn't want that, he didn't want that for his hyungs either. It was something he had figured out years ago. He wasn't about to let this fickle, fleeting fame catch him in its lusty claws.

He would give this life his all, pour literal sweat, blood and tears into it, but once his extended contract ends, he will step back.

He will bow down low as the curtains close for the stage of 'The Golden Maknae' and, the path paves for Jeon Jeongkook. The boy who had come from Busan with a heart full of hopes and dreams and had ended up achieving and getting more than he had ever even imagined or hoped for.

He would be thankful to his fans, to his company, to his Hyungs, to this industry, for taking care of him and letting him fly under their warm protection, but he would be done. As the curtains fall close, the mask will slip, and he'll turn, and you will be there.

You with your bright grin and glimmering eyes would look on at him proudly, and he'd kiss you, hold you and know that he didn't want fame because he had you.

And you were all he had wanted for as long as he can remember.

After all, you are the cause of his euphoria, a home with you his utopia.

Filling in the plot, adding it the finer details.

Since the taglist is pretty long now and I can’t continue to keep them all in my comments, I will be putting the taglist up here from next chapters onwards. Tumblr is glitchy and some of you might not be notified so I am sorry about that. However, if you are a regular reader and have left me feedback time and time again, whether it was a comment or an ask with your thoughts on this story, I’ll tag you down in the comments since I know you definitely do read the work and appreciate it and I am so grateful for your support.

Thank you for reading 💖

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 3 years

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader, a sprinkling of Erasermic and eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Some explicitness towards the end

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 11/16 (all chapters)

Hizashi was used to staying awake long into the morning. He was also used to sharing his bed with one night stands.

For some reason, though, something felt different about it when it was you.

He had been tired from sex and relaxed from the bathtub, yet when he laid beside you he couldn’t look away, much less sleep. After your long soak together, he had gotten you an oversized shirt to wear from his wardrobe and stroked your hair until you fell asleep.

Even then, wearing nothing but a shirt with his face on, you still reminded him of a kitten.

He considered it as you took the train back to your place, watching your reflection in the windows. Every so often you stifled yawns and scratched your eyes, the steady rhythm of the train carriage lulling you into sleep. You rested your head on his shoulder without meaning to, only to jump start awake whenever the train came to a stop.

You looked so innocent while you slept and he couldn’t believe he had slept with you only a matter of hours before this. It was possibly the furthest thing from his mind when he left the restaurant to find you, let alone when he got dressed to go out.

He wanted to discuss it with you while it was still fresh in your minds. It had been a long day for everyone and he didn’t doubt that the next one would be longer, but what had happened between you was too important to leave buried between the sheets.

He reached out for your arm as you got to your stop, oddly concerned that you would fall asleep on your feet. You blushed at the contact though didn’t shrug him off, cheeks still peppered with colour as you unlocked your front door.

Hizashi had never been to your apartment before and didn’t know what to expect, his curiosity on the matter giving him a new lease of life.

“I’ll make some tea,” you said, pointing out a dinner table and couch, “make yourself at home.”

Hizashi didn’t sit down. Instead, while you pottered around in the kitchen, he took the chance to look around, leaning over to examine the photographs on your walls and bookshelves.

“Is this you?” he asked, picking up a particular frame.

“Oh,” you glanced across. “Yes, haha. It was taken a long time ago, though!”

It was a photograph of a younger looking you at your high school graduation, standing with your mother, father and older brother. Hizashi hadn’t given much thought to what your family might be like, only that the photograph in his hand didn’t match the image in his mind. Your father was tall and broad shouldered, with cold, searching eyes. Your mother was slight and had clearly been beautiful in her youth, though she glared out at the camera as if whoever took the photograph had gravely insulted her. Your brother was the perfect combination of them both, handsome and tall, with a sharp jawline and serious expression. He had on a perfectly tailored suit and held his arms behind his back, rigidly standing up straight as if someone had given him a forceful boot to the rear seconds before taking the photo.

There was no warmth in any of them, not even you. You stood as rigidly as they did, positioned between your mother and father like a hostage. Hizashi glanced back at the person rummaging through the cupboards for cups and then at the photograph, trying and failing to match up the girl in the picture to the one he knew.

“Now then,” you said, resting a tea tray on your kitchen table and pouring two cups, “about...earlier..”

He set down the photograph and joined you at the table, accepting the cup you held out to him.

“I...ummm...Where would you like to go from here?”

He scratched his moustache out of habit, searching his brain for the right words. An hour or so ago, he wouldn’t have been so sure of his answer, but now that the dust had settled only one outcome made sense.

“Nowhere.”

He didn’t miss the flash of panic in your eyes, a moment of self doubt that you might have done something wrong, and reached out to touch your hand across the table.

“Don’t think too much about it,” he said. “It’s just...you said you forgot who you were outside of your old relationship, right?”

You nodded.

“It wouldn’t be right for me to push you into one now,” he said. “I want you at nothing less than 100%. 25% (Name) is a hottie. 100% (Name)...”

He sucked in a deep breath and reached out his hands, framing your face in his fingers.

“...100% (Name) should have a warning label,” he said. “And, hey, after that performance? I’d say you’re well on your way to 30%.”

You spat out your tea at that.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said. “All I get is 5% ? How many guys do I have to sleep with to get to 100?”

“They don’t have to be different guys,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Could be the same guy over and over .”

“You’re terrible.”

“You’re cute.”

“You...are giving me really mixed signals right now.”

He smirked and took a sip of tea, silently acknowledging that you had a point.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “well...in a few hours...I won’t mention it again unless you do.”

“Like... a reset?”

You said it as if it had significance, though he didn’t know why.

“Yes, yes,” he said, “exactly like a reset!”

You laughed bitterly and for a moment he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. It lasted only a moment, though, and you set down your cup with a smile.

“A reset sounds good,” you said, though the smile didn’t quite meet your eyes.

~~~~

He stayed a while longer, engaging in small talk as he finished off his tea.

He reached into his pockets as he got to his feet, dragging out his hair band and tidying up his bun. It was early, sure, but if Nemuri was right and the media really were on high alert, the last thing he wanted was photos of him looking so tired in mass circulation.

He stretched out the band, only to curse as it snapped.

“Hey, (Name),” he said. “Do you have any hair ties?”

You poked your head around the kitchen door, midway through running the tap.

“Uhhh...sure...I usually keep some in my bedroom cupboard,” you said. “Help yourself, it’s just through there.”

“Thank you,” he said, following your directions into the bedroom and realising the flaw in your instructions within seconds. You had mentioned them being in your bedroom cupboard, though hadn’t specified which one.

He opened the one nearest your bed, then the one nearest your window, all to no avail.

Maybe he had misheard you?

He opened your wardrobe door, going over your directions and struggling to think of a single misunderstanding.

“(Name),” he called out, “wh------”

He fell silent, noticing a familiar flash of colour.

No. No, surely not…

He pulled out the dress, stomach falling through the floor.

It couldn’t be. It had to be a mistake.

“Having fun?” you asked, poking your head through the door.

“This dress,” he said, “it’s l-lovely. You have excellent taste.”

“You think so? I was thinking of getting rid of it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, stroking the fabric with a fond expression. “I hooked up with a guy the only time I ever wore it and I can’t look at it now without thinking of him.”

He had to be wrong. He had to be.

He thought back to your first day, the conversation you had had in the izakaya.

I was seeing someone. We were together for years, actually, but we broke up a little over six months ago.

His mouth ran dry as he remembered the conversation he had had with the bartender at Ego .

She was here about six months ago. Had drinks with Eraser. I was hoping you’d remember her.

It had to be a coincidence. There were hundreds of single women in Musutafu, any of whom could have bought the same dress.

“Oh, did...did you go anywhere nice?”

“My friends dragged me along to a nightclub in town,” you said, blushing luridly. “ Ego .”

You looked up into his face the moment you said it, suddenly looking more than a little bit concerned.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone really pale.”

You reached up to touch a hand to his forehead and he flinched without meaning to.

It was the hand Shouta had reached for; one that had almost certainly explored his body.

“I...I’m fine,” he stammered, thrusting the dress back towards you. “It’s a nice dress, you should keep it! Okay, then, bye!”

He rushed out of your bedroom and through the front door before you could say another word, forgetting all about his broken hair tie and even the incident at Hosu. He caught the train on autopilot, watching and rewatching the video on his phone of Shouta and the woman from Ego . Now that he knew it was you, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed earlier. Your posture, the way the dress clung to your body...there was no one else it could have been.

He remembered your moans of pleasure and how good it had felt to be inside you, unable to distract himself from his own morbid curiosity. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, dozens of scenarios coming to mind and all of them involving you and Shouta naked.

He imagined Shouta’s lips on yours; your sigh of pleasure as you took his cock.

He switched off the video and loaded music instead, trying to drown out the niggling thought at the back of his mind.

He was jealous, though had no idea which of you he envied more.

#bnha #aizawa x reader #present mic x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #habanero

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misiwrites · 3 years

Text

Beyblade Week Day 1

joining @beybladeweek2021 late but i’ll probably be doing these belatedly all may so, whatever! it is what it is.

i’ve never participated in a fandom challenge with writing before, but i was feeling adventurous this time and the seasonal themes were just perfect for the 4kingdoms AU-verse (which is this), i haven’t been writing much anything in so long that i’m mega rusty and thought i could use the bey week to do some warm-up oneshots. these aren’t going to be particularly interesting because i’m really bad at doing oneshots actually, but i like the idea myself and. that’s the only thing that really matters. right. (i’m not even sure if AUs are allowed for the beyblade week?? but the rules didn’t say anything about it so /shrug)

the day 1 oneshot is a little story from takao’s childhood about how he first met kyouju. this was inspired by my own childhood memories as the youngest sibling when i just wanted to hang out around my big sisters because i thought everything they were doing was Cool Big Sister Stuff.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Firsts / Childhood / Spring

”Takao! I’m trying to read this! Leave me alone already, will you?”

A groan of disappointment. Reluctantly, Takao backs away from his older brother by the desk, shooting him a frown of judgment and betrayal. Now, a quick change of tactics: he figures that, just maybe, Hitoshi allows him to stay in the room if he zips his lips to his best ability.

Wrong. Two silent minutes pass in the small study room until Hitoshi bellows at his brother again, swinging an arm in the door’s direction.

“I’m serious, you can’t keep doing this when I’m trying to do my homework!”

“I’ll just watch and keep quiet, I promise,” Takao insists, giving his brother his best puppy eyes.

“I can’t focus if you’re standing there! Now get out!”

Takao’s frown deepens; with heavy feet and a heavy heart, he trudges toward the sliding door. He doesn’t like this recent change in his brother, all this emphasis on what Hitoshi refers to as “important stuff”. Just because he’s now seventeen. Acting all high and mighty, pretending to be so adult and so important, too adult and too important to play with his younger sibling.

“It’s a very important time for your brother,” their grandfather responded to Takao’s fraternal laments once. “In one year, he will officially inherit the crown of the Seiryuu-ou. There’s much for him to do to grow into the role of the king before his coronation.”

Important this, important that. What about having fun, wasn’t fun important at all? And fencing – surely instructing Takao with the basics of fencing has to be important? Hitoshi’s fencing skills are second to only their grandfather’s, and Takao cannot imagine – doesn’t want to imagine – anyone else teaching him the art of the bamboo sword. And now Hitoshi is “too busy” to teach him, all of a sudden.

“But I’m boooored,” Takao whines from the doors, balancing his weight on his heels back and forth.

“How about you go study something too for once? You really should be reading a lot more than you do, you know. I don’t want my little brother to end up being a dumb prince who doesn’t know anything about the way the world works.”

Takao’s nose wrinkles in disapproval. The word “study” smells like old paper and dust and boredom.

“It’s the Sowmoon holiday now! And what the hell would I study?” he barks.

“Don’t cuss. Anything – whatever interests you. How about the history of the city?”

“Bahhhh.”

“The history of fencing, then. I don’t know – go to the library, take a look at the books or whatever, just leave me alone. I don’t have time for this.” Hitoshi lifts the yellowish document in front of his face and disappears behind it. A wall has risen between the two brothers.

* * * * * *

In the country of spring and year-round greenery, it’s difficult to stay sullen under the tranquil blue of the Eastern sky. Moments later Takao is skipping down the road that leads to the town of Tsuno below, his child’s heart already ignited with new-found hope and aspiration, his feelings of frustration shed by the sturdy wooden gates of the Cherrywood Castle and he's moving on, literally.

At first, the idea was dull at best; reading sounds like just about the flattest thing he could be doing on this beautiful Sowmoon day, a warm breeze blowing through his indigo hair as he carefully hops from one cobblestone to the other… but, in the end, it’s the wish to please his brother that has won him over. Now a plan is taking shape in his mind, the idea swelling like a balloon by each step he takes down the road, and soon his head is racing with the ambition of studying as many topics as he can think of; he’s dreaming up scenarios of impressing his brother with all his newly acquired knowledge, his brain buzzing and his proud heart thumping with all the imaginary praise from Hitoshi… and, just maybe, he’ll then agree to do something fun with his cool and smart little brother again.

So caught up in his daydreams, Takao hardly pays attention to all the familiar townspeople greeting him as he passes by their wooden dwellings and shops and stalls, and he prances past several flocks of tourists lingering on the streets of Tsuno, too busy taking pictures of the cherry blossom trees in their rare blue Sowmoon bloom to notice the royal prince walking right past them. Even if they did see him, not many would pay attention to him; people from outside the city would never imagine a member of the royal Seiryuu-ou family strolling around in a simple hakama without making a scene; but in the royal capital of the Country of East, this was a mundane everyday sight, and Takao was a regular guest of the pastry stalls on the main street of Tsuno. The townspeople loved to pamper this bold and friendly little prince, who hadn’t yet been spoiled by the privileges of the royalty.

Takao reaches the tall glass doors of the main library, only to face the reality of the numbers painted on the glass panel. Five minutes to closing time. So caught up in the rollercoaster of his imagination as he left the Cherrywood Castle, checking the opening hours of the library didn’t even pass his mind.

“Oh, hello, Your Highness,” he’s greeted by one of the kimono-clad library workers who spots him. (The surprise is evident; Takao is not a usual guest in the library.) “How wonderful to see you here. Are you looking for something?”

“Well, yeah, for something to read… but it looks like you’re about to close.”

But coincidence is on Takao’s side today, for the clerk tells him that the library is staying open for one extra hour every day this week.

“The reading hall has been reserved by Professor, a local researcher – but I’m positive he won’t be disturbed by Your Highness’s presence.”

“Really? Okay.” Relieved and triumphant, Takao enters the old-fashioned yet admittedly curiosity-inducing depths of the city library.

He quickly comes to the conclusion that he has underestimated the number of books in the world. Expecting there to be one of each subject of his admittedly limited academic imagination, he is instead hit by an entire universe of paper and ink and covers and words. The map of the library layout alone is full of complex characters that Takao hasn’t yet come across in his schooling.

Dammit.

In the end, Takao finds himself pacing back and forth a narrow aisle of local history books, looking for one with a cover that sparks interest. Perhaps he cannot read all the text, but at least he can look at the pictures.

That’s when he notices another person sharing the space with him, at the far end of the hall, where the shelves have been moved to hug the walls to make room for a reading area in the middle and the ceiling seems to climb up impossibly high under the arch of a dome roof. This person is another kid, hardly older than Takao, and he’s not paying the prince any attention in return; the boy is glued to the screen of a laptop computer that sits on a table in front of him along with several books, one of which has been spread open. Every now and then, his fingers dance across the keyboard at a speed that Takao didn’t even know a computer keyboard could be used with; then the boy crouches over to take a quick glance at the open book before turning back to the laptop again.

A curious sight. For a moment, Takao is tempted by the allure of calling out to this strange boy, to ask him why he’s still there after closing hours. He decides against it and swallows his curiosity. If there’s one thing that his older brother has recently taught him, it is to mind his own business and not bother other people hard at work.

* * * * * *

The next day Takao returns to the library, a pile of books in his lap that he leafed through all night last night. Hundreds of pages of buildings so old they probably stayed up in the pictures with willpower alone – so old that Takao half-expected them to crumble and disappear by the turn of a page, leaving empty picture frame squares behind.

He came to the conclusion that Tsuno’s history was perhaps not the subject to start from.

Takao returns the books, decides to try and find something about fencing, a subject he’s already in some way familiar with. (Between the important-looking books, he secretly slips in a story about Southern pirates; this one he’s not going to tell Hitoshi about.)

In the hall with the dome ceiling, the kid with the laptop is by the exact same table again. Only the array of books next to him is a little different… maybe. Takao is nearly seized by his curiosity again, but something about the air around this boy holds the lingering scent of “do not disturb”, so he bites his tongue once more.

* * * * * *

How could even books about fencing slap him in the face with all this wall of text?! The following day Takao once again turns up at the library, to return his previous findings that had only briefly managed to capture his interest with images of old fencing gear that were not only ancient but, as he ultimately decided, very ugly and stupid-looking.

What about archery, the other national sport of the East? Takao finds it boring and repetitive compared to fencing, but since books about fencing turned out to be boring, did it mean that books about the boring sport were, in turn, more interesting? It makes perfect sense, in Takao’s eight-year-old mind.

However, as he makes his way to the library at the cusp of closing hours again, he no longer pays much heed to the books. Instead, his feet take him to the reading hall under the dome right away.

Sure enough, the kid with the big round glasses and a laptop in front of him is there in his usual spot, all alone. And again the boy’s fingers are hammering at the keyboard faster than Takao can form a coherent thought about computers, the strange machinery that originates from the technically advanced Country of West for all he knows.

It’s been three days now, and Takao can no longer hold back his burning curiosity. Eyes on the strange boy, he takes small sideway steps between the bookshelves, inching his way closer and closer, until he reaches the open reading area under the arched skylights above.

“Hey,” Takao says as he enters the boy’s proximity by the table.

The boy doesn’t do as much as raise his eyes from the computer screen.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asks, still typing away. The tone of his high-pitched voice is just slightly aggravated but his choice of words oozes formality, a strange speech pattern for someone his age. It throws Takao off a little.

“Umm, I’ve seen you here every day this week and was wondering what you’re doing, that’s all. You know the library was already closed, right?”

After saying this, the thought then passes Takao’s mind that perhaps this kid never leaves the library. Perhaps he’s not even aware that he’s in a closed library. What if Takao is talking to a ghost, haunting this remote corner of the library all day and night? Or, maybe, he’s nothing but a product of Takao’s imagination?

The boy’s voice is now so blunt in response that these phantasmagoric thoughts immediately vanish from Takao’s mind.

“Yes, of course I know. The library personnel was very kind to allow me this one working hour without other people disturbing me. So really, I should be asking – what are you doing here?” Now the stranger’s hands finally leave the keyboard and he lifts his eyes to Takao.

A moment of confused silence. Then the boy’s face begins to resemble the colour of a strawberry.

“Oh!” he squeaks and jumps up to his feet, only to bow his head toward the floor. “Oh, Your, uh, Your Highness! I am terribly sorry for being so rude! Oh, goodness me, how could I…!”

“Wow, calm down,” Takao interrupts, startled himself by the suddenness of the boy’s reaction. “And raise your head – I don’t like people bowing at me, it makes me feel weird. More importantly, what you said just now – are you saying you booked this extra hour from the library?”

Hesitantly, the boy straightens his back, which doesn’t increase his height significantly; now that they’re standing next to each other, Takao notices how small the person he’s talking to is, his head barely on level with Takao’s shoulders.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he says. “I wasn’t aware I was sharing it with the royal family, though. How thoughtless of me.”

“No, well, I kinda just walked in on my own, to be fair. So… you’re a researcher?”

“You could say so, I am indeed carrying out some research here. My name is Saien Manabu, but everyone calls me Professor.”

“Oh, wow. What exactly are you researching?”

“Right now I am writing a paper on the goddess cult of the Country of North. I know, it’s not exactly a topic that interests most children, but I find it so terribly fascinating…”

The mention of children – a nod to the fact that this boy, too, is a child just like him – makes Takao immediately feel more at ease. This person, albeit strange and overly formal and clearly too smart for his age, really is just a child after all. This notion alone is enough to make the kind-hearted and fairly simple-minded Takao like this boy more.

“Sure, that sounds cool,” he says with a grin. “Hey – you said you’re Saien, right? Like that ramen shop on the main street?”

“Yes, it is owned by my parents.”

“Well, it’d be real interesting to hear more about your research and all, but I’m kinda hungry, to be honest – the Saien noodles sound awesome just about now. How about we go there and then you tell me more?”

“Hmm. Well, I wasn’t making as much progress today as I wanted, in any case.” The boy, visibly at least a little relieved to get a break from staring at the screen, slams his laptop shut and tucks it under his arm. Then he flashes a friendly smile at Takao. “Very well, Your Highness. But my mother may pass out if I bring a member of the royal family to their shop all of a sudden, so please prepare for that.”

“Bah, just call me Takao, I’m not so into that formal stuff.”

“Alright, and you can call me Professor.”

* * * * * *

Once back in the Cherrywood Castle, Takao told both his brother and grandfather how much he’d learned about the Northern goddess Hiromi of time and space already; and from that day onward, Hitoshi never needed to refer to his younger brother as the dumb prince again, as Takao, who became a frequent visitor of the Saien family ramen shop both inside and outside business hours, never ran out of curious stories to share about all the things he learned from his new friend.

And while the royal Seiryuu-ou family wasn’t to stay together for much longer from the moment of this story, Takao and Professor remained best friends for many years to come.

#my writing #4kingdoms stuff #LetItRip2021

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musinglymuse · 4 years

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No single recommendation list can possibly contain all the fanfiction I’d recommend for this pairing... so here’s a followup for the ever so popular Nursey and Dex pairing! You can find my other recommendations for this pairing and the fandom by looking in the tags on my blog.

I’ve compiled some of what I consider excellent fanfics that feature this pairing although it does not contain all of my recommendations. They are listed in no particular order. I plan on creating more recommendation lists for this fandom, although I may branch out to other fandoms later on.

As a reminder, please make sure to check the tags and any warnings before reading. Take care of yourself!

fly towards a secret sky by growlery writes Canon Divergence // ~5k // PG-13

Dex snorts, but it doesn't sound mean. None of the guys are, like, bad about the Muslim thing. There was always a place for him to pray at the Haus, before he moved in, and no one asks him to go to lunch on a Friday, and he never gets interrogated when he’s drinking (or not drinking) at a party. They can be weird, though, like that time someone brought up Nazem Kadri's suspension with him even though Nursey's ambivalent at best towards the Leafs.

Dex has never been weird. There's a billion points of tension between them, but this isn't one of them.

The Scarf by rhysiana Magic AU // ~8k // PG-13

College, Dex was finding, was both harder and easier to navigate than he’d anticipated. Classes and hockey practice he’d expected, and he mostly had a handle on those. But all the interpersonal stuff was… difficult.

Shitty thought it was because he was from a small town. Ransom thought it was because he was the first person in his family to go to college. Holster thought it was because Dex joined him in his hatred of 90% of the population. Chowder thought it was because Dex was stressed out. Nursey just thought it was because he was a conservative asshole.

Shockingly, none of them ever thought to guess it was because he was a witch living with people who didn’t know for the first time.

Crushcrushcrush by loveandallthat Canon Divergence // ~5k // PG-13

It’s not Dex’s fault that his teammates are really, really good-looking, and also kind of amazing. But it makes it much harder to convince Nursey that what he feels for him is on a different level.

It's (not) You by unacaritafeliz Soulmates AU // ~9k // PG-13

"It could still be a coincidence though," says Nursey, pressing his own thumb against the mark. "It doesn't have to be you."

"Nursey..." starts Dex. He's trying to sound soft, but he probably just sounds broken. He feels broken. "Nursey, of course it's me."

light's off, light's on (you were the right one) by jennycaakes Post Canon // ~9k // PG-13

“This,” Nursey said, gesturing around them vaguely, “is the year that you fall in love with me.”

He expected Dex’s face to crack with a smile, or another roll of his eyes so sharp it could easily be written off, but neither of those things happened. Dex maintained his easy gaze, staring into Nursey’s eyes like he was looking for something.

“Won’t take much,” he murmured.

wasted on you by torkz Canon Divergence // ~20k // R

Derek Nurse thinks that if he never falls in love with another redheaded asshole named William, it’ll be too soon.

Crossed Wires by lecrivaineanonyme Dex Doesn’t Attend Samwell AU // ~15k // PG-13

Will snorts. "You are unreal,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve had people in here crying because they downloaded a virus that can be removed in two minutes, and here you are with pie-filling in your computer, joking about how at least you didn’t fucking put rice in it.”

Derek grins. “It’s chill,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Why worry? I know you got my back.”

Also known as the one where Nursey is constantly fucking up his laptop and Dex is the lucky Best Buy employee who gets to fix it.

see you flexin' that's a big lie by jennycaakes Canon Divergence // ~33k // R

“I--what?” Nursey only said half of that shit to piss him off but he’s too confused to take a jab at him. “What are you saying?”

“We’ll tell people we’re dating,” Nursey says. “The team’ll know it’s not real. But word’ll spread. People’ll lay off. Give you your space.”

Dex forces himself to swallow. “Sorry. You want me. To… fake date you?”

get with it by dharmainitiative Actors AU // ~6k // PG-13

The world knows a lot about Derek Malik Nurse. They know that he graduated at the top of his class from Harvard, that he has an affinity for poetry, and that he’s one of the leads of Northanger, the #1 cable drama in the nation, which has garnered him instant fame and heartthrob status.

What the world doesn’t know about Derek is that he’s a huge pain in William Poindexter’s ass.

In Another Life by alocalband Magical Realism // ~21k // R

Dex goes to bed his first night in the basement and wakes up in a slightly altered version of reality for the day.

A few nights later, it happens again. And again. And again...

Which is fine. Really. He will handle this insanity the same way he’s handled every other weirdness Samwell has thrown at him since he got here.

He’s just not sure how to deal with the implications of how often he wakes up in worlds where Nursey is in bed beside him.

things you said by quidhitch Canon Divergence // ~6k // PG-13

“Awww, looks like Dex appreciates a lady in uniform,” Nursey teases, tucking his feet a little further beneath Dex’s thighs. “You have a thing with the head cheerleader back in high school Dexy? Hold her pom poms and kiss her whatnot?”

Dex seems to be contemplating something, and Nursey figures it’s one of his lame clapbacks like your mom’s a pom pom. He brings the bottle to his mouth, smiling around the lip of it.

“Actually, I’m more of a captain of the football team kinda guy.”

Nursey chokes on his beer.

in front of the same small bathroom mirror by shellybelle Canon Divergence // ~12k // PG-13

It's not surprising that sharing a room changes things, but neither of them expect the most important conversations in their strange, awkward friendship to happen in their shared bathroom.

(Or: five conversations Dex and Nursey have in a shared bathroom, and one in bed.)

#nurseydex #omgcp #omgcp fic rec #omgcheckplease #omgcheckplease fic rec

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overwatch-does-stuff · 3 years

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The Torbjorn vs. Mina Liao rant.

Mina Liao was introduced to Overwatch to lampshade out Torbjorn’s intended role in the greater lore. Here’s the deal:

(Obligatory disclaimer, since I know how this fandom can get sometimes: I don’t hate women. I don’t hate people of color. Me hating Mina Liao and defending Torbjorn is not because I hate women of color and worship white men. There, we good?)

In Torbjorn’s comic Destroyer, Torbjorn is making it his business to take down an Omnic titan that’s currently in the process of razing a city to the ground. While he sneaks onboard the titan, he gives us a very compelling monologue about why he’s here.

“I helped design the beast. I weighed in on a ton of research and development during my days in the Ironclad guild. The initial vision behind the titan was to create a mech that could build high rises, not destroy them.”

This comic, the comic that establishes Torbjorn into the lore of Overwatch, leans very heavily into the idea that Torbjorn feels personal guilt over his role in designing the Omnics. It sets up this guilt as Torbjorn’s character arc, his personal mission. The writing makes it clear that this was his motivation to join Overwatch from day one. The man learned about this Omnic attack a day ago, for heaven’s sake, and he had already traveled to the scene to take it down. That’s dedication!

And now, in 2020, we’re introduced to Mina Liao.

Who is Mina Liao? Why, she worked directly for Omnica! None of this middle-man Ironclad nonsense! She helped develop the Omnics. She felt guilty that her work on the Omnics was used for evil. She joined Overwatch because of this guilt.

Boy, doesn’t that all sound awful familiar?

Even worse, we’re told this in a cinematic that isn’t even supposed to be about her. Liao is supposed to be just a footnote in Echo’s story. But instead, almost the entire animated origin short is dedicated to giving us Liao’s story. Why?

Look, it’s no secret that Torbjorn is not a fan favorite character. He’s gruff, doesn’t like Omnics, and the worst sin of all: he’s short. Because of his height, he isn’t taken seriously by the fanbase. He’s a meme character, the butt of all the jokes. He’s considered ‘pervy’.

What’s even worse is that Blizzard is leaning into the joke. Every voiceline that they’ve given him last year has been some variation of “too hot for you?” or “try my meatballs!”. And I get it- characters get joke voice lines from time to time, but with Torbjorn, they’re a constant.

I think what Blizzard has learned is that no one takes Torbjorn seriously. As a result, they don’t treat him seriously. But because they need that essential figure in the lore- the regretful builder of Omnics -they made a new character who they thought would be taken seriously, copy-pasted the backstory, and let it run.

The only reason they got away with this was by killing her off in the origin short.

But that’s not the end to Torbjorn’s erasure from future intended storylines. No, it gets worse. Much worse. Why is it so much worse? Because it robs the story from not only Torbjorn, but Bastion as well.

Enter the comic Binary. It’s the first time we’ve seen Bastion since their animated short. They’ve wound up in Sweden. Torbjorn sets out to deactivate them permanently. But along the way, he remarks about how odd Bastion seems,

“Never heard of a rust bucket running. They’re programmed to fight against any odds until they get shut down. Something’s not right.”

Torbjorn then directly confronts Bastion and is confused when Bastion doesn’t try to defend themself. However, interrupting the perfect moment is a bunch of other humans. Torbjorn shouts at them,

“I’m asking you as someone who’s spent many long years fighting these things. This Bastion is different. And if it can change. . .”

Again and again, the narrative hammers the point home about how the Last Bastion is different. They are not like other Omnics. Why? Because their programming changed. When Torbjorn realizes this, the idea alone is enough to cause him to betray the local law enforcement to protect Bastion.

The law enforcement agents try to protest against his actions, saying, “Don’t you have enough blood on your hands?”

And Torbjorn replies, “Enough for a lifetime.”

In this line, Torbjorn is implying that he thinks Bastion could be the solution to Omnic troubles. By not dismissing the question, he’s addressing what he’s done. So what other reason would he help Bastion go free if he didn’t think that they could help solve his ‘lifetime’ of guilt?

This sets up Torbjorn and Bastion to be the keystone to the entire Overwatch narrative. One of the biggest mysteries in the Overwatch universe is what caused the Omnic Crisis and what still causes Omnics in Russia and Korea to be violent. Through Bastion, an old Crisis Omnic who learned how to change, Torbjorn could have figured out!

But then, but then. . . Echo comes along.

She’s a specially built Omnic built by Mina Liao, our newer and cooler Regretful Builder Of Omnics. Echo is not like other Omnics- she’s special! All of these other Omnics are just pretending to have a learning AI. She’s the only one who actually has it. She’s a super uber top secret project that’s the key to reversing the legacy (yes, the legacy, it’s clearly mentioned in her origin short) of all other Omnics. She’s so important, the McCree and Ashe short got hijacked to introduce her into the narrative!

Okay, enough snide comments. But Echo’s introduction in the Reunion animated short places a lot of narrative weight on her. The fact that it was her introduction, instead of her origin story, tells us that Blizzard intends for her to be a serious player. 3D animation ain’t cheap, fellas, and they wouldn’t have wasted the eight minute animated build-up on some minor character.

It isn’t just the narrative similarities either. Even her character feels like a copy. She’s portrayed as naive and curious about the world, just like Bastion is. She is thought of as a ‘dangerous’ Omnic by the more anti-Omnic characters, just like Bastion is. The only difference is that she has a direct relationship with McCree, a known fan favorite, as her way in to the rest of the grander narrative. That’s the equivalent of rolling out the red carpet for her arrival. Oh, and she can talk. That’s another difference. Because mute characters are just too much effort to portray in visual media, apparently.

We had Bastion built up as a unique Omnic, only for that to be swept aside by our showstopper Echo. We had Torbjorn set up as the face of the inventors of the Omnics in the lore, only for that to be swept aside by Dr. Liao. Is this really just a coincidence? Two sets of characters that fill the exact same narrative role?

I don’t think so. And I’m going to die mad about it.

#overwatch #torbjorn lindholm #it's not only torbjorn but bastion as well and that's not okay

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 4 years

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Chapter One - Hello Chicago

A/N: So this is my first crack at Chicago fire fanfiction, so don't judge too hard, alright? This will unfold from the beginning of season three, so if you haven't watched it yet, but plan to; SPOILER ALERT! I tried to follow along with the storyline of the show, but some things have been changed. Shout out to my superawesome beta @thorne93, you rock!

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Beth (OFC)

Warnings: None.

Wordcount: 2975

Three weeks ago:

It was a beautiful summer day in Chicago, the sun was high in the sky while a warm breeze fanned the air, providing some much needed relief from the scorching sun. Beth had just moved into a cozy little apartment on West Wolcott, a seemingly friendly neighbourhood that she hadn't really had the time to explore yet. One thing she had noticed though, was the little bar on the corner, Molly’s. It reminded her of the last place she worked at back in New York before she picked up her life and headed for the windy city. On this particular day, she saw a ‘help wanted’ sign on the bulletin board outside, and without thinking twice, she climbed the three steps and walked inside. A little bell above the intricate mahogany door chimed, and before it even closed behind her, three confused faces looked up at her from a table near the bar.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” the woman in the group said, offering Beth a friendly smile as she did.

“Oh…” Beth started, looking between the three of them. The woman was a beautiful latina, around Beth's age, with a kind smile. One of the men, the older one of them, looked like he was in his mid forties maybe, and the other one was around Beth's age, maybe a couple years younger. He had big brown puppy dog eyes and a thick mustache. “I just saw the help wanted sign outside, and figured I'd see if you had an application I could fill out,” she explained. “But I can come back later,” she suggested when there was no answer. It felt as though she had walked into something here. She didn't know them, but it seemed as if there was a sadness behind their smiles.

“Nonsense,” the older man exclaimed, getting to his feet. “Come sit down.”

Beth put down her groceries at the door and went to join them.

“I'm Christopher Herrmann,” he introduced, shaking Beth's hand. “That's Gabriella Dawson-” Beth shook her hand too. “And this here is Otis,” he said, patting the guy's shoulder.

“Brian,” the younger man corrected.

“Nice to meet you all. I'm Beth Andrews.”

“So you’re looking for a job?” Gabriella wondered.

“Yeah. I just moved in down the street last week, and I saw the sign upfront today,” she explained.

“You have any experience, kid?” Herrmann asked in a very prominent Chicago accent.

“I do. Spent the last ten years working as a bartender in New York. Two different nightclubs for about five years and then nearly five year's at a neighbourhood bar like this,” she explained. “Then I moved here. I have references,” she added.

“Any other work experience?” he wondered.

“Yeah. I was a paramedic with the New York Firedepartment for eight years. We were on 24 hours and off for 48, so it was easy enough to combine with other jobs.”

The three of them shared an amused look and Beth wondered if she had said something wrong.

“We all work for the CFD at house 51 here in town. Gabby is a paramedic, Herrmann and I are on truck,” Otis explained, and Beth chuckled at the coincidence.

“Paramedic for now,” Gabby corrected. “I've graduated from the academy, and hope to start fighting fires soon.”

“Really? Congrats,” Beth offered.

“Thank you,” Gabby said with a wide smile. “Are you looking to be a paramedic here in Chicago too, or?”

“Not really, no. I got injured on the job and the more time passed, the harder it was to get back to it. I made a real effort about three months ago, but the job had changed for me,” Beth tried to explain, hoping that a fellow paramedic would understand.

“Alright,” Herrmann dragged. “So why Chicago?”

“Heard you guys were hiring. Couldn't let that opportunity slip through my fingers,” Beth joked with a coy smile, looking between the three of them.

Gabby looked at the other two and nodded before looking back at Beth. “Welcome to Molly’s.”

“Really?” Beth exclaimed.

“Yep,” Herrmann confirmed. “Be here at five and we’ll get you settled in.”

***

And that was how Beth landed her job at Molly’s. A job that she absolutely loved. Never had she imagined that a simple bartender job would come with such a wide network of people and friends, but Molly’s had that family vibe to it. It was a place where firefighters, police officers, and doctors came to hang their hat and try to find a good end to an otherwise shitty day at work, or a place to celebrate the good days. She found many acquaintances during her first three weeks, but also some good friends… like Gabby.

After Beth had Gabriella and her fiancee - who was a lieutenant at firehouse 51 - Matt Casey over for dinner, Gabby had convinced her to come to the house and cook for them all, which she gladly did. One thing she had learned through her year's working at NYFD was that the fastest way to a firefighter’s heart was through their stomachs.

Firehouse 51 was still mourning the loss of one of their paramedics, Leslie Shay, who had died on the job just a few weeks before Beth rolled into town. Her death still cast a shadow over the place, but they were all trying to get back to normal. A normal that would be hard to find before the lieutenant of Squad 3 came back from his furlough. Kelly Severide had been Shay’s best friend, and the one that took her death the hardest. No one had seen or heard from him since Shay’s funeral, and they were all starting to wonder if he would ever return to the station at all.

Beth hoped that a good meal would help cheer them up a bit, even if it was just for a little while.

“This smells amazing, Beth,” Cruz complimented as he hovered over her in the kitchen. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Yeah… Tell them the story,” Gabby said with a chuckle, not looking up from the magazine she was flipping through.

“Alright,” Beth dragged, very aware that all eyes were on her all of a sudden. “I was dating this guy back when I was nineteen. He was a really nice guy, but I didn't really see it lasting very long, so when Valentine’s rolled around I didn't want to splurge on a big fancy gift for him. So I got him a pen,” she started explaining.

“You gave a guy a pen for valentines day?” Cruz asked with raised brows.

“Yeah - well- he was studying journalism and I had it engraved.. It was a nice pen, kay? My point is I wasn't too invested in the relationship at this point.”

“As evidenced by the pen,” Otis chimed in, earning himself a bitchface from Beth.

“But it seemed as though he was in a different place then I was at that time, so he gave me a gift certificate for cooking classes, worth about 500 dollars.”

A round of ‘aww’s’ went around the room followed by Gabby’s “Wait for it.”

“For about two seconds I felt really shitty about the 14 dollar pen I had gotten him, so I started telling him that I couldn't accept his gift. That it was too much.. Too generous. He shut me down and told me it was an investment in our future and that - and I quote - he saw real potential in me, but if we were to start a family, he needed to know that I would be able to cook for them.”

Now there was a mixture of ‘eww’s’ and ‘oh, noes,’ going through the room.

“So I took the gift certificate and left. Then I spent 6 weeks learning to cook all these delicious meals that he will never get to taste,” she concluded.

“Good for you, Beth,” Sylvie complimented. She was the newest member of the firehouse, filling Shay’s position after she died. Sylvie was a small town girl that had this sort of careful nature to her. She was very sweet though. Beth liked her a lot.

“I don't get it,” Cruz said with a puzzled look on his face. “He was planning a future with you, isn't that nice?” Coming from anyone else, this comment would probably piss Beth off, but she knew him, and knew that he didn't really mean anything by it.

“He wasn't planning a future with me, he was planning my future for me,” Beth explained. “Look… being a stay at home mom is tough work, and I admire the shit out of those who do it, but at that point I had my own aspirations and goals for my future. It was pretty clear to me that even though he knew all of this, he didn't care as long as he got the family he pictured in his mind.”

“Oh… well… when you put it like that,” Cruz said, an apologetic look on his face.

“It's alright,” Beth assured before she announced to everyone that dinner was ready, and for all of them to dig in.

***

Dinner had been a huge success and she left the house with an open invitation to come back whenever to cook for them, which was their way of telling her that she had been accepted into their little family.

Now she was back behind the bar at Molly’s, which was easily her favorite place in the world right now. Lieutenant Casey had finally been able to track down and convince Lieutenant Severide to come back to Chicago, and they had all decided to throw him a little welcome home party at Molly’s.

Gabby had already been in Beth’s ear about Kelly Severide, warning her that he was a bit of a ladies man, but Beth assured her that she wasn't interested. She was excited to meet him though, besides being a ladies man, Beth had heard a lot of great things about him.

There was a good crowd already at the bar when Kelly finally showed up. The first thing that Beth noticed was that the pictures of him at the station didn't really do him justice. However, it wasn't the ocean blue eyes, or the plump lips, or even the broad shoulders. It was the way he carried himself. Standing tall and confident in his shoes as he was welcomed into the bar with cheers and pats on the back. There were few things more attractive in a man than confidence, Beth thought to herself, but there was a really fine line between confidence and arrogance, and from where she was standing it looked as though he was on the right side of that line. There was something else that she noticed about him, something that saddened her in some inexplicable way. As soon as the charming smile fell from his lips, his expression hardened. Not in an angry or mean looking way, but more… stoic. Like a man carrying around a pain inside of him that he didn't want anyone to see. Like he was trying to hide his vulnerability by appearing unapproachable.

Beth knew that underneath all that, there was a good man. Of course she hadn't met the man yet, but she knew that from the way people spoke about him.

He didn't take a seat at the bar, instead he wedged himself in between two stools and leaned against the counter.

“This is Beth, Molly’s new bartender,” Gabby said and Beth reached over the bar to shake his hand.

“Kelly,” he said, his piercing blue eyes tracking her features. “Nice to meet you.” The hardness of his face melted away as he smiled politely at her, revealing a little gap between his front teeth. It was as though she caught a little glimpse of who he was behind the hard exterior. It was just a flash, a fraction of a second, and then it was gone again.

“You too,” she offered. “What can I get you?”

“Whiskey,” he said simply before he got roped into a conversation with Chief Boden and Casey.

Beth did her best not to stare at the man, but throughout the night she caught herself looking for him, letting her eyes linger whenever they found him while her mind wondered who this man was underneath. Already then she knew she was in trouble

“I knew it,” Gabby said suddenly into her ear. Beth hadn't even seen her approaching.

“What?” she asked, pretending she had no clue what Gabby was on about. “I'm allowed to look,” she defended when her friend sent her a knowing look.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want to do,” Gabby said with a coy smile. “Just know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I'm not gonna get myself into anything,” Beth assured.

“Mhm… Anyway, Matt and I are going to head home. You okay to lock up?” Gabby asked.

The bar was mostly empty now. Just Severide, Cruz, and Otis remained. “Absolutely,” Beth assured. She said goodnight to her friend and then made her way over to the three men. “Last call, boys. What can I get you?”

The level of inebriation around the table was pretty darn high, but considering this was last call and they would be out soon, Beth didn't worry about it too much. As per their request, she grabbed them each a beer and then made her way back behind the bar to start getting ready to close up.

“Hey, Beth,” Kelly suddenly called out, making her spin around. “Come have a drink with us,” he lightly demanded.

She mulled it over for a second before she poured herself a glass of ice water and went to join them.

“What's this?” Kelly asked, pointing to her glass with furrowed brows.

“Water,” she stated simply.

“You don't drink?” he asked, looking into her blue eyes.

“Not at work.” Holy shit was he gorgeous, she thought to herself as she pried her eyes off of the freckles that peppered his nose. She hadn't noticed them earlier, but now that she was so close to him, she could clearly see them. She could still feel his eyes on her when she looked away, but she did her best to ignore the warm feeling that settled in her body under his gaze.

“How are you liking Chicago so far?” Cruz asked.

“It's good,” she said with a bob of her head. “Your pizza sucks though,” she added as an afterthought.

“Oh come on,” Otis exclaimed. “Chicago style beats New York style every day of the week,” he argued, getting support from the other two.

“Uhm.. no. Deep dish pizza tastes like tomato sauce and dough, and nothing more. New York style has the perfect toppings to cheese ratio on a crunchy crust. It's perfection.”

“You’re wrong,” Cruz chimed in. “The thin crust does not support enough toppings. It's structurally unsound.” He gestured as he spoke, as if he was caught in a heated debate about the state of the world or something.

That spiraled into a half an hour long argument about pizza and toppings, ending only when Beth said that she would prove them all wrong by coming into the fire house and cooking them some real pizza. This was met with much enthusiasm.

“Alright, boys. Time to get out so I can close up,” she announced after checking the time.

“You throwing me out of my own bar?” Otis asked as they all got to their feet.

“Damn straight,” she said with a smile, trying to ignore the looks she got from the very handsome lieutenant.

“This because of the pizza thing?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed with a playful smile.

“Never argue with the bartender,” Kelly noted.

“Exactly,” Beth agreed. “Now get out so I can get home,” she ordered.

The three men were still outside waiting for a cab when Beth locked the door behind her. From what she could tell, Kelly was trying to rope the other two into continuing the evening somewhere else, without much luck it seemed like. She felt for him, she really did. Being alone with your thoughts after losing a loved one was hard, she remembered all too vividly what that was like.

“What about you?” he said, looking at Beth. “Wanna come have some drinks with me?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said. It was a lie. She would very much like to go with him, but she knew how that would end, and tempting as it was, it wasn't really an option. “I'm gonna go home and slip into a light coma.” It seemed as though her answer surprised him, and she got the impression that he wasn't really used to getting turned down.

“Can I walk you home then? Can be scary out here at this time of night,” he tried.

“My apartment is right there-” she pointed a few houses down - “I'm sure I'll make it home before your cab gets here, so you guys can just keep an eye on me from here.”

Cruz and Otis kept their eyes to the ground, trying to not get roped into this awkward interaction. They mumbled a goodnight as Beth left them, trying to hide their smiles from the lieutenant.

“What just happened?” Kelly asked with a confused expression on his face.

“You just got shut down, bro,” Cruz explained.

“Twice,” Otis added, making the two of them laugh.

Kelly watched as Beth made her way to her building, and just as the cab pulled up, she unlocked her door. He raised his hand and gave her a small wave before he got into the backseat of the car. For a while, he had the image of her bright smile, and big eyes in his mind, but soon enough she was replaced by Shay, and grief overtook him once again.

If you want a tag, just shoot me an ASK and we’ll make that happen.

If you like what you read, press that little reblog button, maybe leave me a little comment. Feedback is a great source of inspiration for me.

#Kelly Severide #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide fanfic #Chicago Fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire fanfic #kelly severide x reader #PF

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mercuryonparklane · 3 years

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An attempt at objectivity on the topic of Tayliz/a summary: Part 2

(Kind of...)

I’ve been busy with irl stuff the last week, so I haven’t been posting much lately. I finally have a day where I have nothing else to do and I’ve been considering making a post about where I currently stand on Tayliz/Gaylor in general for a while, so I thought now would be a good time to do that.

Disclaimer: I don’t know any of these people personally and this is all my own interpretation of publicly available information. I apologize for the length of this post...

I’ve been a Taylor fan since 2006 and a Gaylor since at least early 2009 when I was posting fanfics on LiveJournal (I stopped writing rpf a long time ago, btw). I’ve been in and out of the Gaylor fandom since then. I’ve created and deleted multiple blogs/accounts in the past 12+ years. I was mostly active between 2009 and 2015, but I did a lot of lurking during that time and only engaged when I felt I had something to contribute. 2015/2016 was a crazy time and I was going through some of my own stuff, so I stopped following Gaylor as closely for a while. I listened to reputation and Lover, I read the Gaylor theories, made a couple comments, and moved along. When folklore was released it drew me back in.

I created this blog in September 2020, before I even had an inkling that Liz might be more than just another name that has been thrown into the potential exes list, along with Claire C. and Kellie (I don’t believe either of those two had anything beyond friendship with Taylor). I had never looked into it too much because it seemed like there was not as much information as there was for the main 3 (Emily, Dianna, and Karlie). Now, after researching Tayliz for 5 months, I believe there is at least as much, if not more, to go on as there is for the main 3.

As for Taymily, I believe that, at the very least, Taylor had a massive crush on Emily. I don’t like to get too in-depth about that because there is a very suspect age gap. I’m not saying that those things don’t happen, but I will reiterate my statement from an earlier post that I am not comfortable essentially accusing someone of committing a crime when all that can be deciphered is that Taylor seemed to really care about her. I do think there are multiple songs about Emily.

I also believe that Taylor did date Dianna and possibly had some kind of relationship with Karlie. I think both of these possible relationships are long over at this point. Taylor may have been looking back on those relationships (along with others) in her last few albums.

I still personally think it is possible that Taylor is a lesbian, but there are reasons to think she might be bi and I understand why people think that she is. I don’t really talk about the guys Taylor may have dated, but I will say that, to me, all of the boyfriends she had after high school seem like beards. I could be wrong, of course. There are way too many signs that she is queer for me to not think that she is at least bi.

There have always been sapphic themes in Taylor’s music, even in early songs like “Me And Britney” and “Angelina”. Her entire discography is littered with sapphic themes. In recent years, she has seemed to hint at being some form of queer in other ways as well. This has all been examined by others, so I won’t get into that in this post.

Anyway, on to Tayliz…

There is some compelling “circumstantial evidence” suggesting that there may have been something beyond friendship between Tayliz (a lot of this was covered in my first post and all of the information has been mentioned at some point on my blog):

They met multiple times between December 2006 and February 2009, when Liz first performed with Taylor, but it is hard to tell how well they knew each other at that time. Based on the information available, I actually think they might have even been close, or at least friendly, before Liz was hired, but I could be wrong.

The “official” story is that Liz met Taylor at a meet and greet in December 2006 and again in July 2007. She asked if she could sing for Taylor and Taylor gave her advice, including suggesting that she enter a talent contest and that she should move to Nashville. Some accounts say that Liz sang for Taylor in her dressing room, but I have never found a source for this part of the story.

Taylor wrote the following sentence about Liz in her blog on February 5, 2008, after performing on the competition show that Liz was a contestant on: “It sounds strange, but there was always something different about her that stuck out in my mind”. That is super suspect to me...

Taylor was the only musician to perform on the show, btw (although they did have the touring cast of HSM on the next week). Taylor allegedly said, during the interview portion of her appearance, that she knew Liz and that Liz had gone to “all” of her shows and meet and greets… whatever that means.

According to Liz, she moved to Nashville in June 2008 and sometime within the next 6 months she received a call to audition as a backup singer, but did not know for which artist she was auditioning. I feel like it would be an incredible coincidence that Taylor suggested she move to Nashville two years earlier, they met multiple times after that, and randomly Liz got a call to audition for Taylor without knowing it was for her within 6 months of moving there. I don’t know, maybe I’m being too skeptical, but it seems almost more of a reach to say that Taylor didn’t somehow have a hand in her getting that audition.

Liz already seemed very comfortable around Taylor in that picture with George Strait taken on the day of her first show with the band in February 2009.

At the one-off shows after Liz joined the band, there was a little skit between Taylor, Liz, and Grant during YBWM, where Grant played the love interest and Liz played the “Cheer Captain”. There was even a talking bit. During the Australia one-off shows, there was a talking bit before F&A where Taylor introduced Liz and they had a little conversation that ended similarly to the one Taylor has with the interviewer during the Fearless Tour. After this, they rarely interacted on stage.

Taylor seemed to allow Liz’s input during the auditions for the Fearless Tour dancers, two months after she joined the band, and Taylor ended up hiring two of her friends.

Liz went with Taylor to visit Abigail at her university in Kansas two months after joining the band.

Taylor took Liz with her to see Britney Spears’ Circus Tour show in Chicago right after the Kansas trip.

Taylor said in an interview for Oprah’s website, released in May 2009, that Australia and Lawrence, KS were her two favorite places to visit, which just so happen to be two of the places she had recently been with Liz.

The fact that they shared a hotel room in London a few months after Liz joined the band. Caitlin, who had been in the band for a while at that point, and her mom were both there for that trip. Maybe Taylor was just happy to be able to hang out with another woman around her age. It seems strange, but it could be a completely platonic situation.

Taylor and the band, including Liz, recorded a cover of “American Girl” by Tom Petty (one of Liz’s favorite artists) in front of the Rose Garden in Portland, Oregon in May 2009. The secret message for “Sparks Fly” is “Portland, Oregon” and she mentions the Rose Garden in “The Lucky One”.

Taylor mentions going to dinner with Liz, seemingly just the two of them, in her vlog from May 29, 2009, which was around Liz’s birthday (May 27).

The amount of Liz content in the vlogs. Plus, the choice to put the line “I like where you sleep, when you sleep next to me” right before showing Liz sleeping on a couch (this was the trip where they shared a hotel room, which does make that fact more suspect, imo) and including the song “She (For Liz)” in another vlog, in which she dedicates a whole section to Liz’s habit of falling asleep “All. The. Time.”

In fact, in both of those vlogs, which were posted a year apart from each other (May 2009 and April 2010), Taylor wears a black dot shirt, in clips that include only her and Liz, that is similar to the one she wore in the IKYWT mv.

Honestly, just go watch the video she made for Emily and then watch the vlogs after Liz joined the band… I just get a similar vibe in the clips she chose to include of both women.

They went to a Paramore concert together the weekend before Taylor hosted SNL in November 2009. At the concert, they were filmed by other attendees dancing next to each other on the balcony. One of the songs they were filmed dancing to is “That’s What You Get” and Taylor asked Hayley to perform that song with her (and the band, including Liz) at one of the Nashville shows on the SN Tour in 2011. In November 2019, Liz released her own song called “That’s What You Get” that sounds like it could be the opposite side of the relationship much of Red is about (and a couple other Taylor songs from other albums).

In Taylor’s Glamour interview published on 10/5/2010, she mentions that she designed the two guest rooms at her Nashville condo with Caitlin and Liz in mind.

After tweeting about attending the Katy P. concert in Dublin with Taylor (and Grant and Caitlin) someone asked Liz what her favorite KP song was and she responded “Thinking Of You”. This is suspect because at the time Liz did have a bf, but she may have just liked the song and didn’t necessarily relate to it personally.

There are tweets from people who are either not really well-known or aren’t in the industry at all that mention Taylor and Liz hanging out outside of touring. They are mentioned together in quite a few tweets actually. They seemed to have a good number of mutual friends during that time (spring/summer 2009-fall 2012). After Liz left the band, Taylor stopped hanging out with most of those people, while Liz continues to maintain some of those friendships to this day. This could be explained by the fact that Taylor began spending less time in Nashville.

One such friend is the photographer who Taylor hired for Red. She is actually a longtime friend of Liz. Supposedly she took some photos of Liz that Taylor saw and Taylor hired her after that. There are some pictures from Taylor’s Red photoshoot that are similar to Liz’s photos.

There are rumors that Liz was fired, but the “official” story is that she left to pursue her own music.

Liz did not wish Taylor a happy birthday on twitter in 2012, which she had done in previous years. She did not tweet @ or mention Taylor for almost a year. Taylor didn’t respond to any of her tweets or mention her until October 2014.

Some of the songs Liz released in late 2012/early 2013 have similar lyrics/themes to Taylor’s music and may be about Taylor.

The lyric video for Liz’s song STFU&HM includes polaroid pictures with the song’s lyrics written on them and neon signs, which is basically the 1989 aesthetic. The actual mv has some potential parallels to the IKYWT mv. (side note: Liz specified in an interview that the kind of “sour candy” she is singing about in the song is Watermelon Sour Patch, which Taylor mentioned in the June 2008 issue of Teen Vogue was something that she “couldn’t live without”)

The love interest wears a key necklace in the STFU&HM mv and Taylor wears one in the IKYWT mv.

The bridge of IKYWT is very similar to lyrics from a song by Patty Griffin called “Nobody’s Crying”. Liz once said that Patty is her favorite singer (this was when she was still in Taylor’s band) and has mentioned her and that particular song multiple times over the years. Side note: Taylor mentioned last year that another one of Patty’s songs was the inspiration for “betty”.

Liz played the other woman in the mv for TSOU and in the photoshoot for SN. At the end of the mv for her song “H8U”, Liz interrupts her love interest’s wedding and kisses his tall, blonde, curly haired bride.

This one could be a crazy coincidence, but Liz recorded the backing vocals on a song called “Dear John” that was written by the backup dancer who came out to Taylor during the Fearless Tour. Btw, by no means am I saying DJ is about Liz because that would make zero sense.

Liz’s birthday is on one of the board games in the “Lover” mv that reference “Cruel Summer”. Most people think CS is about Karlie and that makes sense, but it also seems to reference “Love Story”, which was potentially written sometime around when Taylor performed on the show Liz was a contestant on. I don’t know if LS is about Liz and I am not trying to claim that, but it is interesting. Even if it’s not, they performed that song together a lot and Liz helped out with the onstage costume change during that song. CS could be about her experiences with both Liz and Karlie. Or it could just be about Karlie and the date in the “Lover” mv has nothing to do with Liz’s birthday.

In “the 1” and “dorothea”, Taylor potentially references Liz’s song “Never Know” and by reference, I mean that she essentially uses the exact same lyrics: “I guess you never know, you never know” = “I guess you never know, never know” and “I guess I’ll never know” = literally just the same line. Not to mention in “dorothea” Taylor also sings “Do you ever stop and think about me?” and in NK Liz sings “I wonder if you think about me” right before the line “I guess I’ll never know”. I am not saying that either of those songs are about Liz, but it is interesting, especially since Liz tweeted about “the 1”, which was the thing that really sent me on my deep dive into Tayliz.

The “cardigan” looks like the cardigan she wears in the first vlog she included Liz in. It could be nothing, but it is interesting because I have a theory that Liz is the first woman she had a “relationship” with and that “cardigan” is about Liz, Dianna, Karlie, and possibly some other women she might have dated/been with.

These are just some of the highlights and are more focused on the facts as opposed to some of my more tinfoil hat, fun, crack theory stuff or just some of the things that are loosely related to Liz or might involve a little (or a lot of) reaching to connect them to her.

Everything I have mentioned could just be a series of strange coincidences, even though there appears to be quite a few of them. Whether anything ever happened between them or it was just one of those intense, romantic friendships that some women tend to have, I don’t really know. Based on what I have seen, I tend to think there was something going on there beyond friendship, but possibly it was never anything official.

Liz seemed to have a boyfriend most of the time that Tayliz were working together/hanging out, which is one of the main things that makes me question my own theory. Of course, it is always possible that she had something with Taylor, while she also had a boyfriend. There are many reasons for that (poly, closeted, etc.), so that does not exclude the idea that she may have actually been involved with two people at one time and one of those people could have been Taylor.

If they were together in some capacity, while Liz also had a boyfriend, it could explain the messy relationship that Taylor seemed to write about during that time. I think it is possible that Emily was just a crush and Liz was her first actual experience with another woman where the feelings were reciprocated to some degree. OR they could have just been really good friends and I am utterly, completely wrong.

Maybe Taylor is just a straight girl, who doesn’t realize that she’s been sending signals that she is queer for years. Whenever that thought crosses my mind, I think about all of the things she has said and done that imply she may not be straight and I just can’t help thinking that it is intentional. I don’t think she is queerbaiting or unintentionally signaling that she might be queer. I think she is queer and has dropped multiple hints to suggest that over the years.

Anyway… Liz has a bf right now and seems to be in a good place, so let’s let her be, please. I hope we get some more new music from her soon.

As far as researching Tayliz goes, I’ll probably keep looking into it when I have time, but at this point I think I have seen pretty much all there is to see (of the content available online currently). I’ll be waiting for the songs from Taylor’s “vault” to drop to see if there are any potential connections there (at least in the “vault” songs for Fearless, Speak Now, and Red).

In conclusion (TL;DR)...

My personal opinion is that there is enough “circumstantial evidence” to include Liz on the list of Taylor potential exes. For me the Gaylor timeline looks something like this:

(Fair Warning: this is all total speculation based on song lyrics and other information that is publicly available)

Summer 2006-December 2007: Taylor develops a crush on Emily. Emily possibly finds out somehow and it doesn’t go over well (OR it does). She is fired from the band AND maybe she is paid off to pursue other interests…

2008/2009- Spring (Summer? Fall?) 2012: Taylor has an on/off relationship with Liz, while Liz also dates men. The relationship may have even started developing as early as the first time they supposedly met back in December 2006, but Taylor definitely was feeling something by the time she posted that blog in February 2008. It’s complicated and non-exclusive. Maybe Taylor wanted more of a commitment and maybe there were promises made that things could/would change, but they never did. By the time she started hanging out with Dianna she was ready to move on. So, she ended things in March/April… but still met up with Liz a couple times after (possibly as friends).

Taylor may have also dated Julianne H. at some point in 2008/2009.

Spring 2012-Fall 2013 (?): Taylor has an on/off relationship with Dianna that may have ended, in part, due to interference from Taylor’s team. Maybe it is the one relationship with a woman that could have actually developed into something more concrete, but maybe that also scared Taylor a bit.

Winter 2013/Early 2014-Fall 2016: Taylor has an on/off relationship with Karlie, while Karlie is also involved with Josh (hence my comment about how CS could be about her experiences with both Liz and Karlie because they may have been similar circumstances, where sometimes they were single and other times they had a serious bf).

Fall 2016-Present: There are at least a couple potential girlfriends within this timeframe. I lean towards Tily being a thing from at least fall 2016-Summer 2019. I am open to Zaylor and I do find it interesting, but I’m not as sold on that one. I personally do not think Taylor is with Joe nor do I think that Joe is WB.

The straight explanation could be that Taylor gets into really, intensely close friendships with other women and eventually they grow apart and move on with their lives.

The funny thing is that I remember Taylor once saying something about how after a breakup, she completely cuts that person off. That fits with her relationships (whatever the nature) with Liz, Dianna, and Karlie. With each of these women, Taylor shared a friend group with them, but Taylor seemed most interested in them. She has had a few friendly/cordial interactions with them, but she seems to have completely separated her life from them after their “friendships” ended. In fact, she moved to entirely different cities on opposite sides of the country (and in one case a different country, with a whole ocean in between) after she stopped hanging out with them.

That’s where I stand and it’s not really much different from where I was back in October when I posted my first summary on Tayliz.

Although, I do have more information now than I did then that leads me to think something was going on. 70% of the time I am convinced they had a relationship beyond friendship and 30% of the time I think they were only ever friends. 99.9% of the time I think I am a clown.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion. I am inclined to believe that Tayliz is more likely to have had some sort of relationship than Taymily and is slightly less likely to have happened than Swiftgron and Kaylor. Other Gaylors might think they were only coworkers or friends. I’m not out to convince anyone. I am just presenting the information I have found and I don’t mind a friendly discussion/debate if anyone wants to talk about it.

#tayliz #random tayliz thoughts #random gaylor thoughts

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