#just felt frustrated about how even ourselves interact with hate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarmaplewings-fics · 3 years

Text

When He’s Not Here

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (x Kirishima)

Warnings: Cursing, implied severe nightmare(s), mentioned character death (just kinda talking about it, nothing actually happened, dw), soft Bakugou (like, really soft)

A/N: I will take this as an opportunity to welcome myself back into writing (although I never really stopped; I just wanted to work on a few personal projects that were just for me :]). Um, I don’t have much to say about this other than I actually like it! I think it turned out pretty well, so props to me 🎉.

This is technically a Kiribaku x reader, buuut TWIST, Kirishima isn’t really in this one. Mostly just y/n and Bakugou interaction. Yeah, fun.

I promise this is fluff. It’s a little angsty, but not to any extreme. Just nightmare comfort and snuggles with Blasty.

Anyway, enjoy!

-Sugar

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You bolted upright, chest heaving, disoriented.

Everything around you was uncomfortably hot—unbearable. A sheen of sweat coated your skin, and the sheets beneath you were damp. Your heart pounded in your chest, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Darkness pressed around you, only making it easier to see your visions again, playing over and over in your memory.

Desperate, your hands patted blindly around you, looking for something that would make it stop, something to help you feel better.

Your trembling fingers bumped into a warm, solid mound beside you and you latched onto it, hoping to find solace in this sea of fear and nothingness.

“Eijirou?” you gasped, already somehow feeling more grounded as you shook the man’s arm.

“Hm?” Rather than who you’d been expecting, a familiar rough voice emerged from the dark mass beside you.

“Katsuki?” you called out instead.

“What?” He rolled onto his back, dragging a hand over his face. “(Y/N)? What time is—”

You suddenly tackled him into a hug, burying your nose into his shoulder. “You’re alive! Thank goodness you’re okay!” You could sob with how happy you were to find that your nightmare had been little more than just a dream, that Bakugou and Kirishima weren’t dead, and that you were still safe.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” he asked gruffly. “And what’s got you shaking so hard? Was it another—”

“Bad dream,” you affirmed, pulling off of him and straightening. “Just a . . . dream.”

“Oh,” he muttered, sitting up.

“Sorry I woke you up. I was trying for—”

“Eijirou?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you, I just . . . forgot he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.”

Now it was coming back to you. Kirishima was away on a mission on the other side of the country. This was yours and Bakugou’s second night without him, but it still felt so foreign to have him missing from your bed. The sheets felt . . . colder and emptier with him gone. Yes, the redhead had a habit of spreading out in his sleep and snoring much louder than necessary, but both you and Katsuki (though he wouldn’t admit it out loud) had grown quite fond of his presence.

“Need anything?” the blond grunted, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Um,” you mumbled, thinking. “Maybe some water?”

Bakugou stood without another word, sliding silently out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. Flicking on the light, he grabbed a glass out of the cabinet.

For as long as you’d been sharing a bed, Bakugou had been aware of your recurrent nightmares. He’d always been a light sleeper, so it was unavoidable that your muffled whimpers and kicking would wake him up. He was there for you when you needed him, yes, but . . . it didn’t take long for Katsuki to realize that Eijirou was just better with this sort of thing.

Bakugou didn’t know much about emotions, or comfort for that matter. He tended to just blast his way through things and hope others did the same. He had more important things to worry about than “feelings”. But he’d be a damn fool to overlook how powerful they could be, especially when it came to you and Eijirou. Hell, even the weight of his own feelings for the two of you shook his world from time to time.

But it just wasn’t something he was good at, and it frustrated him. He had to be the best. The best of the best, especially for someone like you. You were his partner, and he’d vowed to himself to be the best boyfriend to you no matter what. Maybe he was being a coward. Shouldn’t he work on the things he wasn’t good at? Even when they didn’t come easy?

He had to at least try.

Bakugou came back into the bedroom with a fresh glass of water in his hand. You took it from him gratefully, letting the cool liquid clear your mind as it slid down your throat.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes. Thank you.” You set the glass on the nightstand beside you, curling back into yourself.

The blond racked his mind. What did Kirishima do? Usually as soon as the redhead was awake and cooing over you, Katsuki would try to fall back asleep. He knew you were safe with him, so what was the point in doing anything more? Besides, Bakugou’s sleep schedule wasn’t something to be messed with. But now Eijirou was gone, and you needed someone to be there for you. You were more important to Katsuki than sleep. And you were still shaking.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bakugou finally managed.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. “It was just a dream. I don’t want to think about it more than I need to.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou sat on the bed in silence. Now what? If you weren’t going to talk, how was he supposed to know what to do?

“What does Kirishima do? When this happens.”

You glanced at the rumpled blankets underneath you, suddenly—for seemingly no reason—shy. “He usually holds me.”

Of course he did. That was your combined solution to everything. Figures.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you threw out quickly. “I know you’re not really in a cuddly mood right now—”

Bakugou gathered you up in his arms and shoved your body into his chest. You gasped at the abrupt motion but were just as quick to relax against him, suddenly feeling secure in his strong hold. His body was a little different from Kirishima’s; still thoroughly well-muscled, but otherwise smaller and leaner. You breathed in his scent—also different, but still so heavenly familiar and sweet.

“What gave you that idea?” he asked, his chin resting gently on the top of your head.

“You, um, were facing away from me when we went to bed.”

“Tch, dumbass.” He shifted you into a more comfortable position on his lap, kissing your scalp. “Now what?” he mumbled into your hair.

“He . . . talks to me.”

“What does he say?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “He reassures me, I guess.”

Bakugou frowned. “How am I supposed to do that if I don’t know what your shitty nightmare was about anyway?”

He felt you stiffen in his hold, and he knew he’d messed up.

“Look,” he muttered. “I know this really isn’t my thing, but please. I’m just trying to help you.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled in a small voice.

Silence.

Bakugou didn’t mind silence. In fact, he generally preferred it. It gave him peace to think to himself, and he hated it when there was something annoying and distracting buzzing around him, especially when it was some dumb, unimportant person.

But you weren’t dumb, or unimportant to him, and this time, he felt truly uncomfortable in the quiet dark. Why weren’t you saying anything? You weren’t exactly the type to never stop talking—you could be pretty quiet yourself, actually—but even you had a tendency to fill the void with something.

If you weren’t going to do it, he might as well just get it over with.

“You said something about me being alive when you woke up, yeah?” he asked you. “Scared of me dying?”

You paused, then nodded, tightly clutching the front of his tank top.

“Nothing can kill me,” he said, trying to approach with his cocky attitude.

“. . . you know that isn’t true,” you murmured.

He scowled. “Are you doubting me or something?”

“No. You’re just . . . no one’s invincible, Katsuki. Not even you.”

Bakugou huffed. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. How did Eijirou do this so often? Why had Bakugou never paid enough attention? Now he was starting to feel guilty. Had he been slacking off with you?

“I think you’re amazing, ‘Tsuki,” you went on. “But I’m scared of losing you. Both of you.”

He sighed. “Now why are you worrying about that?”

“I don’t know . . . .” You shrugged. “I guess that the simple answer is because I love you. Of course I worry about something happening. I don’t—I don’t know what I’d do if one of you got hurt, or—or worse.” You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting to keep yourself from crying.

“Hey,” Bakugou said softly.

You nuzzled yourself closer into his chest, sniffling a little and taking a deep breath.

“You know you’re strong, right?” he muttered, brushing his thumb over your shoulder. “I see it in you. I have for years. I trust that you can handle anything. You’ve been through a lot.”

It was your turn to sigh. “But I don’t want to go through something like that.”

“You think anyone does?”

“Well, no. Of course not.”

“Listen. You’re talking about two of the best pro heroes there are, okay? We’ve all got each other and we can take care of ourselves, got that? Worrying about us isn’t gonna do you any favors.”

“I can’t just ‘stop worrying’,” you countered.

“Okay, but don’t put so much into it. We’re here with you now, dumbass. Enjoy it while you can.”

“. . . Eijirou’s not here.”

Bakugou paused, thinking. “‘That what all this is about?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“I’m sure he’s safe.” Katsuki rocked you ever so slightly in his arms, settling back into the quiet night.

“Do you miss him?” you asked.

“. . . ‘course I do.”

You smirked. “Aww.”

“Hey!” he protested. “I . . . I’m not scared to say that I love him. Or you for that matter.”

“I know.” You leaned up, touching the tip of your nose to his.

He blinked in surprise at the gesture, but then smiled softly and rested his forehead against yours.

“This is weird to say,” you began after a moment, “but I can’t really sleep without him snoring in my ear like a lawnmower.”

Katsuki barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding? This is the most peaceful night’s sleep I’ve gotten since we moved in together.”

You giggled. “Okay. But don’t you miss his good-night kisses?”

“Tch,” Bakugou grumbled. “Of course not. He’s so clingy and annoying.”

“Oh? That’s not how I remember it,” you laughed. “You love it when he gets like that.”

The blond scowled in the dark. “Alright, maybe it’s not so bad.”

You hummed, resting your head on his shoulder again. “I love you both, you know,” you said. “I can’t wait until things can go back to normal.”

“Shitty hair’ll be home soon,” Bakugou assured you. He chuckled to himself. “Until then, do you want me to snore in your ear for you? How about that? Something like this?” He obnoxiously made a loud, fake snoring noise in the back of his throat, making it sound as gross as possible.

You cracked up laughing, holding him closer to you while your shoulders shook. “Eijirou does not sound like that!”

“Oh, yes, he does,” Bakugou argued playfully. “Believe me, I sleep next to him too. And for whatever reason, you like it.”

You laughed again, and Katsuki’s cheeks warmed at the sweet sound of your mirth. “It’s just too quiet without him! I’m not used to it.”

“Well how about hogging all the blankets, then? And stealing the whole bed? Would that make you feel better?” Bakugou turned your bodies so he could flop on top of you, starfishing his limbs so you couldn’t get up.

“Actually, you do do that,” you teased. “You sprawl out on the bed all the time.”

He pouted. “Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Well how about kisses then? I’m the best kisser there is, and I’ve got two partners that’ll attest to that,” he boasted proudly.

“Ooh, two partners, huh?”

“Yeah, and you’re one of them. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before you could say anything in response, Bakugou’s lips found yours, kissing you deeply and taking your breath away. Your hand slid up to cup his cheek, holding him in place as he embraced you. His lips were so soft and sweet—he always wore chapstick before he went to bed. You couldn’t help but sigh happily as his mouth moved over yours; gentle, but still with the slightest hint of roughness to it he always carried no matter what.

Eventually he pulled back, letting you breathe.

“I do like having just the two of us here,” you admitted quietly, brushing some of his spiky bangs back from his forehead. “It’s . . . different.”

You couldn’t really see it in the dark, but he smiled. “I like it too.” He leaned in and kissed your lips once more. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You stroked his cheek with the side of your thumb. “But maybe we shouldn’t be teasing our boyfriend while he isn’t here to defend himself.”

Bakugou snorted. “Eijirou doesn’t care. Besides, it’s all true.”

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Oh, that’s right, he was supposed to have been comforting you. He guessed that somehow, he’d done it. His chest swelled with pride. “Sure thing. Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yeah,” you said. “That dream was stupid anyway. It didn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it didn’t.” Katsuki pulled you into his arms again, rolling you both onto your sides so he could face you. “Shitty fucking dream. It’s not real, and it can’t hurt you. I’m here for you, got that? That’s what matters. Nothing’s going to take me away, and I mean it.” He kissed your forehead, pulling the blankets up around your shoulders again. “I fight and win for you, you know. I win for both of you. You two never leave my mind. I’m not stupid and reckless, okay? I’m careful enough so that I don’t get hurt like that.”

“I know.” You rested your head against his chest, sighing in contentment at the feeling of being held by him. It was warm and calming, comfortable and familiar. There wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.

“Ready to go back to sleep?” he asked you, rubbing your back.

“Yeah,” you murmured, shutting your eyes.

He hummed. “Good. I’ll see you in the morning, (Y/N).”

“Good night, Katsuki.”

Soon, the two of you drifted off to sleep, and until you awoke again at dawn, you were at peace.

…

“I’m home!” a voice called out by the doorway.

You jumped up from the couch, making a beeline towards the entrance of your house. “Eijirou!” you greeted happily, running up to him for a hug.

“Hey! It’s my darling, wonderful (Y/N)!” he laughed, dropping his bags and hoisting you up in his arms.

“It’s my big, strong manly man!” you countered, laughing.

He brought his face to yours, humming happily as he kissed you several times in quick succession.

“The two of you are going to make me puke.”

Eijirou let you go, setting you back down on the floor to look up at his boyfriend, who’d stepped in to greet Kirishima for himself.

“Katsuki!” he said happily, unfazed. He held out his arms, making grabby motions with his hands toward the blond.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, walking up to the redhead despite his annoyed façade. Eijirou hugged him tight, pressing a long, solid kiss to his lips.

“Group hug!” he said, pulling you in again for another hug, this time with Bakugou in the mix. “I missed you guys.”

“How was your trip?” you asked him.

“Great!” Kirishima said. “I’ll tell you everything about it as soon as I get something to eat, I’m starving.”

“I made dinner for everyone,” Bakugou said.

“So that’s why it smells amazing!” Kirishima kissed Bakugou on the cheek in thanks, then gave you another to be fair. “Let’s go then,” he said, stepping forward. “Although, I guess I should ask; did I miss anything while I was gone?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @sxngwoos-ash-box @xoxopam4

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou bnha #katsuki bakugou bnha #bakugou katsuki bnha #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #sugar fics

767 notes · View notes

nothorses · 3 years

Note

(This got long, sorry, i had more to say than i thought)

I do not understand this argument at all tbh. TERFs do not love trans men, or any other AFAB trans person they want to "save". Calling it love is insulting, its objectifying obsession. We're pawns to them. (Cw abuse mention: it genuinely reminds me of people telling i couldnt be abused by my father because he "loved" me and didnt physically hit me. Real life therapists say different. Because abuse doesnt always present itself as a negative, hateful thing.)

There is no respect; how could there be love and care? They want to brainwash us into a reactionary conservative cult that teaches us to hate everyone, but to especially hate ourselves. If you actually think TERFs have positive feelings towards trans men, youre falling for their bullshit. They don't believe in our right to existence any more than any other trans person; they just fetishize our (percieved) reproductive organs.

I feel an unspoken bioessentialist implication within this "TERFs love trans men" nonsense; that afab trans people have an inherent, closer kinship to TERFs than to trans women, that *will* be defaulted to. Which to me just shows that in spite of *everything* afab trans people are still just seen as cis women playing dress up, so if we think we're suffering for our identities then we're being ridiculous and hysterical.

I have never felt loved by someone with transphobia in their heart. Only used.

God, yes, absolutely. You worded this so well.

What frustrates me, too, is that this is the only interaction between TERFs and transmascs that's acknowledged at all. I've talked about this predatory behavior here before, because it's the predominate myth about TERFs and how they treat us; that they "love" us. And yes, that love is false, and predatory, and we need to talk about that.

But that "love" us not the only way they treat us by far.

TERFs hate us. They openly want us dead. They think we're evil, twisted, horrible monsters, and they won't hesitate to attack us with the same vitriol as they would any other trans person.

Its incredibly frustrating to me that this is just erased, and we're forced to "address" the times that TERFs pretend to be nice to us as manipulation, or that people feel we must be "held accountable" for those of us that fall prey to their manipulation and abuse. Because TERFs "only hate trans women", and we're an afterthought, and we must always brush aside our struggles to make space for everyone else. We need to wait our turn, silence ourselves, and let our community suffer this violence... why? Because we're not important enough to deserve help now?

I think we need to start taking about how not only that this "love" isn't actually love, but also that TERFs don't even pretend to love us in the first place a good amount of the time. The open hatred, violence, and abuse needs to be addressed as well.

#transphobia tw #transandrophobia tw

181 notes · View notes

nathanknowsitall · 3 years

Text

Thanks, Liar

Summary: “Oh, you’re so gorgeous” is what has been written in your soulmate’s writing across your collarbone since you were ten. You’ve hated your soulmate ever since.

Notes: This is dedicated to all insecure plus size people. I know that the world doesn’t make it easy for us to love ourselves, but we are gorgeous. <3

You hated your soulmate. You were one hundred percent sure of that as you looked at the words that had been written on your collarbone since you were ten.

You knew you weren’t pretty and having a soulmate tattoo that specifically made fun of that fact every time you looked at it wasn’t fun.

As you pulled on your shirt for work, you could feel yourself seething again and started counting down from ten to calm yourself down. You’ve been coping with these same feelings ever since it first appeared.

You had been chubby ever since you were a kid, so when it first appeared, your family had seen it as a premonition that you’d be pretty when you were older. And by pretty, they meant skinny. But that wasn’t what happened.

You never lost the weight. You never became toned or lean or muscular or the million other things that you’d rather be than fat. Actually, the million other things everyone else would want you to be rather than fat.

You had tried so many diets and exercises and every supposedly healthy way to lose weight and none of them had stuck. Some of them had even made things worse. So, as advised by your doctor, you hadn’t been on any diet in almost a year.

It was some what freeing, but everyday you felt worse and worse about your tattoo. In the past few months, you had even considered getting it covered up or outright removed, but, despite the negative feelings you had about it, you knew that, deep down, you’d feel bad about it. What if you met your soulmate and had no way of proving it? What if they got angry at you for messing with your tattoo? What if they had really meant it and it wasn’t just some cruel trick?

All these things clouded your mind as you entered the coffee shop you worked at. As you went in the back and got your apron on, you did your counting thing again before you were ready to go behind the counter. You tried your best to come in with a positive or at least neutral attitude to work, so you wouldn’t be accidentally rude to customers or make your co-workers wonder what was upsetting you.

When you finally got started and into a groove at the register, you kind of got lost in the work. You didn’t mind being a cashier that much at all. You just stuck to the script and did your job, even occasionally got to chat for a minute or two with your nice co-workers.

That would change soon. As you finished with the last customer, a new one approached. You looked at him as he stepped forward. He was dressed pretty chic, wearing flared pants, boots, a plain shirt, and a nice coat. He had a couple of rings on his hands which were now holding the edge of the counter.

When you looked up at his face, you felt intimidated by how handsome he was, and even more so when he smirked at you. He knew his effect on you, but you still played koi, forcing your head down as a blush developed on your face.

As you tried to scramble some semblance of professionalism back together, he said the thing you had hoped no one would ever say to you: “Oh, you’re so gorgeous.”

You immediately felt yourself becoming angry as your stomach dropped. You had the tendency to not think before you spoke when you were mad, but you really did it this time.

“Thanks, Liar”, you said back instantly. When you realized what you had said you put your hands over your mouth, wishing that you could take back what you had said to this random guy who didn’t deserve it. No, not a random man, your soulmate.

Your blush instantly became worse as you started rambling on, apologizing and explaining and trying to be professional and offering to pay for his drink all at the same time.

As you made eye contact with him, you saw the way his eyes widened in surprise then mirth as he started laughing. It was so warm and infectious that you couldn’t stop yourself from joining in.

“I’ve been wondering my whole life what I did to deserve this as my soulmate tattoo”, he said as he took off his coat and moved up the sleeve of his t-shirt, revealing the words “Thanks, Liar” in your handwriting, “Only to find out that it was because I called you gorgeous? Thank god, I’m so relieved! My mum is going to be so happy that I wasn’t lying to my soulmate!”.

You couldn’t control the way that you instantly felt calm as you processed what he had said. You rolled the collar of your shirt down to reveal his handwriting over your collarbone. Your whole point-of-view had shifted as you saw the way his eyes lit up when he recognized his handwriting.

“I absolutely meant it. You are the most gorgeous woman in the world. I’m so glad we’re soulmates.”, he said so sweetly to you. You felt yourself grin as you two kept staring.

But then you saw the line behind him and you realized that you were still at work.

“I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but you still need to order, but it’s definitely going to be on the house now.”

“Oh, is it now? Well I’ll have a large latte with caramel and honey and a bagel and-”, he teased.

“Absolutely not”, you said as he smirked at your frustration.

“Okay, okay, can I please have a small black coffee and possibly spend time with you on your break?”, he asked instead.

“Maybe...only if I get to call it a date”, you negotiated.

“It’s settled then”, he said with a grin.

“Yep! See you later soulmate!”, you said as he walked away. Both of you had the dopiest smiles on your faces as you thought about the stupid but sweet interaction that brought you two together.

788 notes · View notes

intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

I’m Not Asking (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

I decided to go a different route than the tickling in public thing, since that particular irritation of his comes up often enough in other fics. Instead I chose to go with something a little different: pushing past boundaries. There’s not a lot of actual tickling in this one, but I like the story and there’s some good character growth that I think is important. Hopefully you’ll like it all the same! Enjoy!

6. “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

26. “Just tickle me already!”

Warning: ignored boundaries, slight angst

Bakugou was tired of being afraid.

Really, that’s all it was. It wasn’t that he missed being tickled by the idiots who followed him around everywhere. Of course not. Definitely not. But he was sick and tired of being on edge around them, constantly thinking about it whether he wanted to or not.

It had all started weeks ago, one evening in Sero’s room while the two of them – plus Mina and Denki – had been studying for an upcoming test. As it often did nowadays, their studying had become a tickle fight, during which Bakugou was waylaid by all three of them at once and tickled until he was begging them to stop…and beyond.

That’s where the problem had originated. Kiri wasn’t there to put an end to their antics, so the three of them had gotten carried away with their tickling, torturing him so much and for so long he actually became afraid they’d never let him go, no matter how much he screamed and pleaded. Thankfully Kirishima had finally made it to Sero’s room, taken one look at Bakugou’s state, and hurriedly put an end to it all.

Since then he hadn’t been overly inclined to hang out with any of them, save for the redhead who’d gotten him out of that mess. In the week following he’d kept to himself and left the room when they entered, ignoring their texts and knocks on his door. At one point Kiri managed to convince him the others wouldn’t randomly tickle him if he started hanging out again, so he’d begrudgingly begun to do so.

Now, weeks later, Bakugou was tired of it all.

He hated to admit that he’d legitimately been terrified in the moment – afraid they’d tickle him until he passed out, despite the fact that he’d been yelling for them to stop over and over. But he had been terrified, and that fear – whether he liked it or not – had followed him into their everyday interactions. Though he was hanging out with them again, he made sure to never sit too close, never wear exposing clothing around them, never say something that might set them off.

But he was sick of that fear. He wanted everything to go back to normal, even if that meant allowing them to reduce him to a puddle of giggles once again.

So, gradually, he started wearing cutoff shirts again, going barefoot around them, and being as mouthy as he always was. He figured his obvious reversion back to the way he’d been before would be enough for them to go back to how they were before. But – to his surprise and confusion – it wasn’t. He even went so far as to start actively trying to provoke them into poking him, pinching a side, attacking his sweet spot, anything. But there was no reaction from the crew. None whatsoever. They acted as though tickling never existed.

Bakugou hated that even more.

Finally, one night, he stormed into Kirishima’s dorm room. “What’s the matter with you all?”

Kiri startled, pulling off his headphones and looking up at him, bewildered. “What?”

“It’s like you’re all blind. I’m being as obvious as I can. What more do you want from me?”

There was a pause. Kiri slowly put his headphones on his desk and stood up. “Bakugou,” he said seriously, gently, “remember how upset I was when you weren’t picking up on the clear signs that I wanted you to tickle me? Do you remember that I finally had to say something to you directly to get you to understand that?”

Bakugou growled. “But you see the signs. You get it! Why not just tell them?”

“I know you may not understand this, since you’ve been distancing yourself from them for a while now,” Kiri continued, “but they’re just as traumatized as you are.”

“I am not traumatized.”

“Katsuki.”

The use of his first name gave the blonde pause. He let out a frustrated sigh and crossed his arms. “Yeah, so it freaked me out. But who cares? I’m over it now; can’t you guys see that?”

“They care. I care. All of us care. Bakugou, we just don’t want to scare you like that again. We don’t want to tickle you again until you’re comfortable with it.”

“Again – I’m being as obvious as I can.”

“But you’re not communicating with words.”

“Actions speak louder.”

Kirishima smiled sadly at him and shook his head. “Sorry, but this is one time you’ll have to actually talk to us.”

Bakugou glared. “You want me to ask for it?”

“That’s the only way we’ll know for sure that it’s okay.”

“Forget it.” The blonde turned on his heel and yanked open the door. “I’m not desperate like you were. I don’t even miss it. I don’t like being tickled anyway. Better for me!” Then he slammed it shut behind him and stormed right back to his own room, slamming that door, too.

Yet another thing Bakugou hated: he did miss it. For some stupid reason he couldn’t put his finger on, the thought of his friends never tickling him again actually bothered him. He couldn’t stand the thought of never being forced to chill out or cheer up, to laugh it all away without a care in the world.

They wanted him to ask? Yeah, right. It was like they didn’t know him at all.

A couple of nights later, Bakugou wandered around the dorms, looking for them. He figured they had to be together somewhere, since Denki had mentioned something about studying earlier. He looked all over the common areas and public gathering spots but came up empty. Finally, with a growl, he pulled out his phone.

Bakugou: Where are you all?

Kirishima: Sero’s room. Science. You in?

Sero’s room. The place it all began. Bakugou pocketed his phone and made his way to the dorm in question, lifting his hand to knock and then pausing. If I do this, there’s no taking it back, he thought, frowning. They’ll know I missed it. They’re idiots, but they’re not that stupid. He took a breath, let it out in a huff, and knocked. Screw it. They’ve already seen me at my weakest. I have nothing to lose.

Kirishima called to him from inside, and with that invitation, Bakugou swung open the door, closed it behind him, and announced, “Listen up, morons. I’m only going to say this once. What you did was awful and scary and I never want to go through it again, but I’m sick and tired of being on edge around you all the time. I want things to go back to the way they were before all this nonsense started, so just tickle me already, dang it!”

The room went dead silent.

Bakugou glared at the floor, waiting. He could feel the others looking at each other, trying to work out to say. It was driving him crazy, but he was determined not to beg them for it, so he stayed right where he was.

Finally, after a long minute, Mina spoke. “Bakugou…are you sure?”

The blonde stayed silent.

Sero spoke next. “We never had a chance to tell you properly, but we’re really sorry for what we did. We should have listened when you told us to stop. We should have respected your boundaries.”

The blonde pressed his lips together, not saying a word.

Next was Kaminari. “We talked about it, and we promised ourselves – and you by extension – that we wouldn’t tickle you again until you said you were comfortable with it. And we want you to think of a safe word, so we don’t accidentally go too far again.”

At this, Bakugou looked up. “A safe word? The heck?”

“Todoroki and I use one,” Kiri offered. “That way I can beg as much as I want to without him stopping, but as soon as I say the word he’ll stop. And vice versa, of course.”

Bakugou stared at the redhead. “You guys use a safe word? Seriously? What is it, ‘manly’?”

Kiri shot him a smirk. “That’s for us to know, I’m afraid. You’ll have to think of your own.”

The room went silent again as Bakugou looked away, silently contemplating how to go about getting them to tickle him again without actually asking for it. No way was he going to ask.

“Fine, whatever,” he said at last, stepping further into the room. “I’m giving you permission, morons. Don’t waste it. And I don’t give a crap what the safe word is. It can be ‘homework’ for all I care.”

“Ah-ah, can’t have that one,” Kiri said teasingly. “It’s taken.”

“Seriously? That’s what you went with?”

Mina hummed. “How about…red? It’s a classic stoplight scenario. Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.” She and the others looked at Bakugou expectantly.

He nodded. “Yeah, fine. Red means stop. Like, seriously, stop.”

The others nodded as well. “Got it.”

Another silence fell; an awkward one this time. Kiri, Mina, and the others all looked at each other, then up at Bakugou’s looming form.

“Uh, so,” Denki asked, “did you want us to tickle you now?”

Bakugou grunted. “Well, it would be kind of stupid if you didn’t after getting all sentimental about it.”

Kiri stood up and approached him, grinning. For a moment Bakugou tensed and almost changed his mind, but then his friend took him by the shoulders and said, “Give us the magic word.”

“What? Green?” Bakugou frowned, then growled when it hit him what Kirishima meant. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’re completely serious. We said we wouldn’t until you asked. So if you want it, ask us.”

Bakugou grumbled under his breath, glanced his friends waiting hopefully for him on the floor, then at Kirishima’s beaming face, and finally – just this once – he caved.

“…please.”

Kiri chuckled. “Aww, you want us to tickle you that bad?”

“Do not start with me, you little – hey!” Bakugou threw his hands up to protect himself as he catapulted to the floor, tossed by Kiri’s strength directly into the waiting arms of the rest of their friends. No sooner had he landed than he felt fingers wiggling in his sides, stomach, and ribs, making him giggle involuntarily and curl up defensively. “Hehehehehehehey! Gahk! Pfft-wahahahait, wait, stahahahahahahap!”

“Say red if you mean it,” Mina teased, though her touch lightened slightly. “That’s why we wanted you to have a safe word, since you tell us to stop so much.”

“Agh! Wehehehehell I hahahahven’t said it yet, have I?” Bakugou shot back, squealing when someone brushed over his sweet spot. He blushed but refused to cover his face.

“Aww, he really does want us to tickle him!”

“Shuhuhuhuhuhut up, Pihihihinky! NO!!” Suddenly he began thrashing, feeling a jolt of both panic and excitement when someone else – presumably Sero – pulled his arms above his head and sat on them, pinning him down and exposing his worst spots all at once. Denki and Mina sat on either side of him, scribbling and tickling his sides, stomach, and ribs, while Sero reached over him to scratch at his underarms and Kirishima grabbed at his thighs, grinning like a gremlin. “Frick – no! At leheheheheast ehehehehehease me into it, ihihihihidiots!”

“But we’ve missed tickling you so much,” Mina cooed.

“And we have a lot of time to make up for,” Sero said.

“So you’d better get comfortable,” Denki teased, “because until you say ‘red,’ you’re going to be here for a while.”

All at once Bakugou was back at the moment that started this chain of events, pinned helplessly to the floor as his friends tickled him until he was screaming and laughing and begging for mercy. The difference now was that Kirishima was here, and all of them were being careful, and he had a way to get out of it this time.

If he really wanted to.

144 notes · View notes

funkymbtifiction · 3 years

Text

A perspective from INFP in self discovering

About discovering who I am, I totally agree with you.

As Fi-dom, self is a core of my worldview. It’s like a root of tree so self discovering, to me, is not very different from the tree growing from sapling to a great oak. In my opinion, self discovery is not just about what feels right and wrong but how we adapt to life as it glides our way. It is the understanding and embracing of ‘self’ without any analysis just me, as I am. Everything is measured against self in terms of ‘value’ that is independent from logic or analysis just how it is in accordance to self. On its own Fi is just a hollow trunk of tree, and tree can’t grow unless it has minerals, air, water and environment to live in. That is very similar to how Fi feels for me. I just exist solidly in place and everything comes passing by, and I learn from those things, those experiences to understand myself better. It is just like how the environment shapes the tree’s growth and how they interact with the world.

From the previous analogy, it’s like the tree is Fi-dom and environment is Ne or Se function. I can’t say I understand Se, but as Ne-aux, the experience that I gain throughout my life is seen through the lens of potential rather than concrete. Let say I work on some project, what I work and the result itself doesn’t matter as much as the lesson I learn from said project (Ne > Si serves Fi). And that lesson is internalized, incorporates into another shade of self. It is another point that I don’t know whether other Fi-doms feel the same way, but to me, Fi is not against the world. I’ve never felt against the outside world, instead it feels like we all are connected through the same thing of being living being, but the 'journey’ of life is different each person to the next so we can’t judge anyone even if we believe something is wrong, because everyone has different experience, so does their judgement. That brings us to another part of self discovering that is self bettering.

To me, it’s not just learning things and discovering my self by testing against outside world, the core of it all is self-betterment. IFP doesn’t just discover and accept self as it is, I believe we do have a very strong sense of duty to be the best version of ourselves. So we constantly change and tweak our sense of self in order to be more 'complete’ and a version of self that we can live without regret. It works both way. But it is all in service of Fi, of self. For me, life is like a long journey. We still remain ourselves, but everything is added and tweaked along the way, in the end, we are still our 'self’ regardless.

*My enneagram, instinctual stack (6w7 Sp/So with 9-3 fix) and every other thing influences how I view the world, so it might not be the same with other Fi-dom or any person of any type for that matter.

Btw, what about ENFP? or other types, do you experience self discovery similarly?

Thank you for this. I love it. So Much Gratitude to You.

For me, being an ENFP, it’s like a tree being whipped by the wind. The branches sway all over the place, gathering thoughts, ideas, concepts, possibilities, and sometimes the moisture never gets down to the trunk, which is where “I” am. Even so, when the branches are being whipped around, something in me tells me to hold firm against the storm. I will lean one way for awhile, discover it is uncomfortable, and shift back into an upright position. The older I get, the straighter I stand, because I have learned to “let go” and “just be.” I used to try to make sense of everything, but now I feel freer to say, “I don’t know how I would feel about this. I don’t have an opinion about that yet. I THINK I feel this way about this, but I have not experienced it, so I may not.” I make intellectual speculative judgments only to find out they do not hold in real life – I have to learn who I am and what I feel about things independent of my “ideas” about what I would feel.

Life teaches me all the time who I am, because of how I react to it. It is a process of constantly self-evaluating and re-calibrating my ideas about myself, which is hard because Ne has an idea about me that is not true, and I’m not aware of it being untrue until I self-evaluate or see myself in a situation that proves this idea wrong. I am much harder on myself for not living up to my own standards than I am on other people. I think of myself as worse than I am – meaner, more callous, more detached, because those are the things my low Te does when I am stressed and those behaviors discomfort me. My dad once said that I am harder on myself than anyone else he has ever met – unnecessarily, because I am such a “good” person. I thought, “How can I be a good person when I have so many hateful and selfish thoughts??” For me, it all comes from within; how I am inside dictates the kind of person I am, and to do something resentfully even if is a “good” thing to do means I am failing to be truly good.

My ENFP self wants to be someone who is open-minded, but I see myself as judgmental for having critical thoughts; I want to be accepting, but at the same time cannot ignore my idealistic desire for the world, and the people in it, to be better versions of themselves; and this will cause me to think about myself, whether I am being my “best” self and get frustrated by my limitations. I want to transform overnight not do the hard soul-work of sanding my rough edges. I need and want change right now, not to have to work at it. I want to be the butterfly, not be in a cocoon, and nothing upsets me more than to think I might never change, that I am stuck being this way forever. That I will always be fearful. Always be critical. Always be judgmental. I don’t want those things for myself, but cannot deny that they are a natural part of me.

I am different from you in that I have strong opinions of how people 'should’ be (more considerate of each other) but knowing more about someone can evaporate my moral judgment about them and help me to understand them and have empathy for their situation. You said we cannot judge anyone on their journey, because it is theirs - that is something I want to make true for myself but have not managed it yet because my Ne sees what possibilities exist for them, how they are not filling their full potential, and wants to nudge them toward it. INFPs are all about the self-journey, ENFPs wants to help others find their path. But at the same time, I never push anyone too hard, since I respect that ultimately, it is their life and their choices. But that does not mean I do not try to sway them with “new ideas.”

Ultimately, I am the only person that is going to be in my life forever. I have to learn to love and live with myself. If I cannot do that, how can other people love and live with me? I am an ongoing project, as much as a tree. But the only one who gets to prune me… is me. It has to come from within, not an external criticism. I have to reach into my trunk and ask myself if this criticism about me is true, or is also about them, and from there, I will change if need be.

#submission #infp #isfp #enfp #esfp #mbti

72 notes · View notes

ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

Text

some thoughts on mag 200

i’ve been having trouble articulating this, but i wanted to get some thoughts down on mag 200, and the ending of tma as a whole, now that i’ve heard the finale twice and had some time to process it all. putting this under a cut in case people don’t wanna see it -- there’s gonna be a lot of praise here, but also some legit criticism. this is a way to sort through my feelings more than anything else.

first off, relistening to the finale, and sitting on it for a while, has made me feel a hell of a lot better about the whole thing. the episode comes off a lot better when you’re not vibrating with fear and anticipation, in my opinion. the final statement was very fitting and cool -- not my favorite ever, but i can appreciate it a lot as a final closing for the fears. and i don’t have an ear for soundscaping but the sound in that statement was cool as hell. the jonah magnus gets fucking murdered scene is incredibly satisfying. a lot of other people have said this, but i love that jon finally got his revenge, and was able to lash out against jonah for all the years of manipulation and beng used, and for tim and sasha and everything else. that was perfect. i genuinely thought we might not get a scene like this after 193 but i am so glad we did. incredibly satisfying. the girls made it out!! i am very glad that they’re ok and moving on and seem to be leaning on each other. (By God I Will Wring Found Family Out Of This Podcast If It Kills Me.) and the admiral’s okay. love that

and the jonmartin ending. oh my god. while i was never the biggest fan of the possibility of martin having to kill jon, the way it went down was so painful and good. i loved that final scene. i love the ambiguity -- that they might have died but maybe they didn’t, maybe they’re all right and happy and we can decide for ourselves -- i love that i got exactly what i wanted, that i get to have my cake and eat it too, all the angst of a jmart death and still the possibility of happiness... i am going buckwild. i love it. the longer i spend with this ending, the happier i am with it. i really really loved it

on another note... i do have some reservations about the finale and the season as a whole. i understand peoples’ irritations with the finale, and while i’m trying to focus on the things i did like, i definitely have some irritations. for one, i definitely wish the finale had been longer. i would’ve loved to see more of what wtgfs and basira were doing, and the actual lighting of the archives, etc. and while i completely understand why the scene at the panopticon went as quickly as it did -- it comes off very much as wild, frantic impulse in the heat of the moment where they’re in danger and trying to protect each other -- i do wish it had gone a little slower.

in my mind, the biggest issue in season 5 ended up being pacing. and this might be a personal preference thing -- there’s a lot of things within the show that i don’t personally vibe with, but i don’t necessarily think they’re badly written. but i do think season 5 was slow. and while slow things can certainly work in a certain context (season 4 comes off wildly slow til you listen to 160), i wish more of what actually happened in season 5 had been baked into the end game. the season felt like it had a lot of filler, which drives me mildly crazy, because the end game feels rushed and i don’t think it NEEDED to be. i liked a lot of what season 5 did -- there’s some impeccable episodes, the character interactions are weirdly lighter and softer than they have been in previous seasons, and i wouldn’t trade a lot of the things that it’s given us (all the jonmartin interactions, jon and georgie briefly rebuilding their friendship, martin and melanie friendship, wtgfs scenes and intimacy, backstory, lore, etc) for anything. but i do think it could’ve been structured and paced a little differently. i also think it could’ve given some more screentime to the character stuff we got from episodes like 161, 170, 186, 190, 191, 192, 199... i absolutely love both martin centric monologue episodes, but i hate that we didn’t get anything like that for jon. (or for melanie or georgie or basira...) the best episodes of the season, imo, are the ones that broke from traditional form of domain statement domain, and the ones that focused in hard on backstory, lore, character introspection, character interaction... i wish we had more of this.

when it comes to the jonmartin arc... i know this has been a point of contention with a lot of people, but i don’t hate it at all. maybe it’s just because i relistened to the majority of the season back in january, but a lot of the more grating moments that seemed large week to week (martin pressuring jon to smite people, the disagreements they had earlier in the season, jon using martin as bait in 176, etc etc) come off a lot more minor when you’re binging. personally, relistening to act i made those interactions come off as things they were struggling with through continued support and reassurance. there were absolutely things i wanted addressed, especially with the “kill bill arc” -- the disagreements early in the season, and how it seemed to turn on its head in the argument they have in 194. (i didn’t like martin blaming jon for the kill bill arc and i was hoping it would get brought up.) i also wanted to see a discussion of martin going with annabelle in 194 -- i wasn’t really ever mad at martin for doing it, but i did want to see them talk it out.

but! after relistening to 200, i think i have a better handle on why that couldn’t have happened. martin goes behind jon’s back to go with annabelle and they don’t talk about it; jon goes behind martin’s back to sabotage the plan everyone agrees on in order to prevent the fears from spreading. if they’d had a big talk about trust, and working through martin going off with annabelle, and then jon turned around and did the same thing, more or less... it would’ve completely soured that discussion. jon and martin needed to be in a place of discourse for this ending to work.

honestly, the more i’ve thought about this final JM arc, the better i feel about it. sure, jon and martin are in a bad place, and they’ve gone behind each other’s backs and been somewhat selfish, but i don’t think this ruins their relationship. for one, martin’s break in trust comes from a place of wanting to save jon and the world. and for another, jon genuinely feels he is doing the right thing, making a decision he can live with. (i have my own opinions as to how ethical jon’s decision was, but that’s another post. and i think the muddy ethics of this ending are on purpose -- it’s horror, a genre that often doesn’t offer ethical decisions.) their final decisions and final moments come from a place of love and protectiveness, and they change their decisions for the other. they still love each other, through all of it. i don’t think these late stage betrayals equivalate jonmartin necessarily being doomed as a couple (not that anyone has said that, but it’s worth saying). and i think it’s important to remember that this is still a relatively new relationship. it existed for approximately three weeks before the literal apocalypse, and it’s been under an immense amount of stress, as well as the constant fear that one or both of them would die. (which they did.) i’m not saying that excuses certain things they’ve said or done, but i am saying i don’t think the relationship is doomed. i think, if jon and martin have survived, they’ll need to work through things. they’ll need to talk it all out. and they’ll be able to! they’ll heal from this one way or another. the tragedy isn’t that jonmartin is doomed, or toxic. it’s that these moments of betrayal are what dooms them. and the beautiful undercurrent of it all is that they still manage to come together, and make decisions that mean they stay together. and that wherever they are, they’re still together.

all in all, i don’t think season 5 has been perfect, and i can make my peace with that. (tma’s worst is a hell of a lot better than most shows’ best.) (i also think it might be worth considering how covid could have affected certain aspects of how the season was written -- pandemics are stressful, and i can’t imagine what it’s like to finish an enormous, in the works for years project like this in the middle of that. personally, i’m impressed they’ve managed to finish the show through all of this and keep it to a similar quality.) i think critiques are valuable and worth discussing. and i think plot aspects aside, there are several other critique related things that could be brought up about this season that people have articulated much better than i ever could. but i also, personally, want to walk away from the show feeling satisfied. i tend to be weirdly positive about things i love (the x files finale was horrendous, but i managed to get to a place where i was happy with it, for example), and i think that applies here -- even more so because i really did love so many aspects of that finale. i don’t necessarily want to linger in my own mind over what i disliked, especially considering the show is over. although i did want to air out my thoughts.

i still love this show. i loved a lot of episodes this season, frustrations aside. season 5 will forever be my only live tma experience, and it got me through one of the worst years of my life, and i am very grateful for this. i genuinely did just want to air out my thoughts and get them all down on paper. these are just my opinions -- i don’t want to criticize anyone who feels differently about the finale, or the season as a whole. everyone’s opinion is their own.

i feel a lot, lot better about mag 200, to the point of genuinely loving it. i hope my appreciation only grows as i get further from that frenzied first day and have more time to sit with it. and i can’t wait to see all the art and read all of the amazing fics that are going to come out of this ending (and write some of my own). it’s been a wild ride. i’m glad i was here for it.

#tma #the magnus archives #mag 200 #tma spoilers #tma negative #not too strong i dont think but just in case #this might be completely incoherent lol but i wanted to get it down

76 notes · View notes

anime-corner · 3 years

Text

Back Off! I Yaku M.

A/N: Okay so, really sorry if it took way longer than I intended. I wasn't sure if I liked the flow when I wrote it so, I kept changing it. Anyways anon, I hope it was worth the wait and also it was what you hoped for!! Again, sorry!!!

And if this isn't what you hoped for, I could always change it or make another one so don't hesitate to message me!!

It was only the first day at the Tokyo Training Camp and Yaku was starting to get pissed off by every little thing. Just as Karasuno arrived, Yamamoto was already on his knees as soon as he saw their managers, "The girls have multiplied…!!! Now there's a pretty one and a cute one!"

"Take a good look, Tora…" A bald player said, standing in front of the two females, "This is the sanctity of Karasuno."

"Kuh..! So bright..!"

"Yamamoto-san, coach is looking for you!" You said, walking over towards the mohawk headed player.

"That's right!" A squeak escaped your lips as Yamamoto pulled you close to him, arm around your shoulder, "We've got ourselves a female manager too!"

"Wahhh!! Beautiful! TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE, AT YOUR SERVICE!!!" He offered you his hand, taking it and shaking it gently.

"Oh, um… (l/n) (y/n), it's nice to meet you Tanaka-san." As you let go of his hand, he blushed madly, saying words you couldn't comprehend.

Yaku stared at your interaction with Karasuno's wing spiker, a scowl on his lips and arms crossed. He marched towards the two of you, a hand on Yamamoto’s collar and the other intertwined with yours, “Keep stalling and I’ll add a few things to your training. Everyone’s waiting inside already..!”

You stood besides Coach Nekomata, tuning everything out. You didn't quite understand what he was explaining anyways as you only have a little knowledge and experience regarding volleyball and being a manager, allowing you to grasp the basics. You had accepted the role after Kuroo pestered you about it non-stop and a go signal from your little boyfriend, not like you would say that to him face-to-face. You were after all, shorter than him.

Currently, you were tossing the ball for the players to spike with the Liberos on the receiving end. Lev jumped and hitted the ball, showing improvement unlike the first time you saw him, "Did you see that, (y/n)-san? That was great right?!"

"That was better than last time, Haiba-san. Keep at it and you'll become an ace in no time!" The first year hugged you tightly, not noticing the glare the third year libero sent his way.

"You Tin-headed Titan! Stop flirting with (y/n) and get back to practice!!" Yaku was now right beside you, pulling you away from the middle blocker's embrace.

"Oh Yaku-san, weren't you over there just now? How'd you get to this side so quickly?" Lev asked, looking down at his senior.

"What do you mean how?" You felt like you already knew the outcome but let them be as it was still entertaining to watch.

"I don't know. Maybe I just didn't notice since you were so short-- ack!" The light grey haired first year tumbled forward after getting kicked by Yaku from behind.

"Alright, alright, I think that's enough kicking exercises for you. We still need him in his very best condition." You patted him on the head, on your toes. You gave Yaku a smile and somehow, that reassured him a bit.

"I didn't even hit him that hard..!" He pouted before blushing when he heard you mutter the word 'cute'.

"I know. C'mon, let's continue practice."

• • •

Now back at Nekoma, you were hand-in-hand with Yaku, heading home. Though, you noticed that something was up. His hand clenched yours as he silently walked beside you and you were starting to get worried. It just wasn't like him.

"Yaku? Is something wrong?" You asked, glancing at him. He turned his head towards you, a smile on his lips. But you knew it was different.

"Yeah. Just tired, we did play a number of matches." He said, stretching a bit. Your hand now hung free as you rummaged your bag for an energy bar.

"Here. This should help you until you get home and cook up some real food before heading to bed. You need all the strength you need for training tomorrow," You said, handing him the convenience store bought food, "Also, don't stay up too late or sleep with your hair wet if you're planning on taking a bath."

"You're starting to sound just like me. But don't worry, I won't… Man, I don't even wanna know what I'd do without you nagging at me like this." Yaku teased, earning a soft hit on the head. Though, he acted as if it hurted more than it should.

"Hey! I'm just trying to make sure you take care of yourself too. You always seem to do that for the team so, you can't really complain," You reasoned, a blish covering your cheeks, "Besides, I really care about you, so much."

"Yeah, me too. Now, come one, it's getting pretty late, I don't even want to imagine the look Lev will give me once he gets there before me..!" He ruffled his hair in annoyance, "Worse if he picks on me again saying I was late because of my height."

"Don't be like that. Even if he does joke about it a lot, I'm sure his respect for you amounts just as much." You replied, rubbing circles on his hand.

"Thanks, (y/n). Now, I should really get you home. I could always stay at your place if your parents aren't home."

"Not a kid though, you worry too much!"

• • •

Time went by and before you knew it, the whole team was in Shinzen High. You didn't want to admit it but, you began to dread the week, not because it'd be another busy schedule for you and the other managers but because the attention you get from some of the other teams' members was enough to tire you out completely. Especially when Yaku knocks them down with a kick, making you apologize to both your and the other teams' coaches. To sum it up, an average of fifteen kicks per hour, including ones from Lev.

It was the fourth day and you have noticed the huge change in Yaku’s behavior. He was more serious during matches and he had chosen to ignore the guys who would walk up and interact with you, except for Lev of course. Even the managers noticed this and asked you about it. Nekoma was about to head back to court when Yaku called for you. You were both ecstatic and nervous at the same time. Ecstatic because it has been exactly two days since he last spoke to you and the latter was because you don’t know what your talk would be about.

“Y-Yaku, what… What is it?” You asked as soon as he was in front of you. His eyes refused to meet yours and you were starting to wonder what you did wrong.

“After this match… N-no, after the last match for today, wait for me at the hill behind the school.” You nod, letting him go back to his team.

Now all that’s left is to play the waiting game.

• • •

It was a clear night out, a bit cold as you clutched the jacket you brought closer to your body. Your ears managed to catch the soft scratching of feet against trimmed grass, turning around to see Yaku staring at you with a look you were unfamiliar with in his eyes. To him, at that moment where the wind blew your (h/l) (h/c) hair to the side and the moon highlighted your beauty, he knew he’d have to work hard and prove to you that you shouldn’t have any reason to let go. So should he.

“Sorry to make you wait…” He scratched the back of his head, nervousness starting to fill his body.

“It’s fine, I just arrived actually.” You replied when in reality, you have been waiting for ten minutes. You finished earlier than expected and without a clear meeting time, you decided it was for the best to wait for him and avoid a bunch of crazed idiots with equally crazy hormones. You returned to your previous position, eyes gazing up at the sky.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You could feel Yaku slither his arms around your waist and place his head on your shoulder. You sucked in a breath before exhaling, missing the affection you two usually shared.

“I was thinking… Maybe you shouldn’t have been the team’s manager after all.” He confessed, making you turn your head. Your faces were close to one another, your lips centimeters away from his cheek.

“What? Why? Did I do something wrong? Did the coach say something?” You asked frantically, moving away from Yaku’s hold.

He tsked, clicking his tongue in annoyance, crossing his arms, “Well, if it wasn’t obvious, they were flirting with you and I hate it. Even Lev’s trying to take a shot at you when it’s already clear that you're already mine.”

“Aww, is Yaku getting jealous?” You teased, a small smile on your lips.

“So what if I am?! I just want them to leave you alone without me attacking them. Also, I’m worried that you’d choose one of them over me who’s always short-tempered and really insecure about his height. Hell, that libero from Karasuno’s shorter than me and he doesn’t give a damn!” He pulled his hair a bit, frustration written all over his face, “I can’t make them go away if you let them approach you like that. Even in this body, in this size, I want to protect you the same way I protect the ball from hitting our side. I’m saying this because I don’t to lose you and I--”

You blinked a couple of times before opening your mouth to speak, “You’re so cute, Yaku.”

“H-hey! I’m trying to voice out my feelings before I beat everyone up and this is your reply?!” His face boomed with color as he watched you laugh. He always did love the sound of your voice, whether it be a soft murmur or a loud cheer. You making him, or anyone, smile even in the most depressing occasion was always your forte.

“Sorry Yaku. I just can’t believe that I’ve been so lucky to be able to date such a talented, compassionate and intelligent guy like you. You trying your best to keep me from harms way just shows that you’re just as good as everyone else, better even. So what if you’re short, then let’s be short together! And even if one of us was way taller than the other, I’d still choose you. Besides, flirting will get them nowhere when I already have you!”

"Good. Because I'd choose you too. I love you (y/n)." Yaku said, eyes staring back at yours lovingly. Maybe he was just thinking too much, at least now he knows to never doubt your feelings for him.

"Love you too, Mo-ri-su-ke~" And then everything came to a standstill. Freezing up, his eyes were wide open and his mouth hung slightly. You giggled at the sight before stopping when you realized he was actually frozen on the spot, almost forgetting how to breathe, "E-eh? Yaku? Yaku?! Don't tell me that I broke you just by saying your name?!! Hey! Ahh..! What to do, what to do!! Maybe Kuroo knows something, I should--"

Before you could even take your second step forward, Yaku grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you close to him, engulfing you in a hug. His face was covered by the crook of your neck, mostly in an attempt to hide the embarrassed blush on his face, "A-and where do you think you're going?"

"Thank goodness you're okay." You sighed in relief, your left hand caressing the strands of his brown hair.

"Of course I am! Y-you just caught me off guard, that's all." He reasoned, voice muffled out.

"No way! Next time, I won't--" Cutting you off the second time, he retracted his head from its hiding place, facing you. The blush could still be seen and besides, the color suit him.

"Who told you to..? I just needed a little bit of getting used to hearing you say my name… Especially in public." Yaku said, the last three words in a whisper.

"Are you sure?" Placing your right hand on his cheek, he leaned in at your touch as you stroked it with your thumb.

"As long as it's my name you're calling and nobody else's. Don’t touch anyone because I’m here, because I’m beside you so, please.. Don't go anywhere. Promise me that you'll always stay by my side." He closed his eyes, hovering his left hand on yours. Such a simple gesture made your heart flutter ten times more than usual or perhaps you were falling for him more as days go by.

"I promise…" A smile lingered on your lips.

It was a comfortable silence, neither of you wanting to break it. Leaning in, you placed a kiss on his forehead, making him mirror the smile you wore.

"Oh, and please don't tell the others that I, uhh… crashed." He stepped back as you chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't."

• • •

He wore a smile the next day, seeing you dismiss the guys who were flirting with you. The training camp had come to an end, the coaches preparing a barbecue for everyone. You and the girls sat together, laughing at each other's jokes. Some of the players blushed at the sight of your little group while the others, mainly Yamamoto and two from Karasuno's team roamed around, keeping anyone from looking at Shimizu.

You joined Yaku and a few of your team after a while, the libero wrapping an arm around your waist, "Oya? Is Yaku finally telling everyone to leave his little girlfriend be?"

"Shut up, Tetsurou. Unlike Morisuke, you couldn't get a girl to like you back! Plus, you really should try to fix your hair…" You pointed out, earning a few snickers from second years.

"That's pretty low, (y/n). And did you just call him by his first name? That's new. Made up or something?" Kuroo said, grinning widely, dismissing the topic about his hair.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Still trying to get used to it though." Yaku blushed, receiving a loud laugh from the captain.

"What's with the face, seriously? You'll ruin your reputation as a demon senpai if you keep that up!" The two bickered, not noticing a player coming up towards you.

"Hey! Nekoma's manager!!" Your group froze, turning towards the source of the voice, "We were wondering if we could get your number?"

Yaku had a scowl on his face, wanting to leap at the player right there and then, but calmed himself down, "I'm sorry but, I don’t like seeing my girlfriend giving her number to just any guy…"

"Girlfriend? So, you’re the..? Man, even though you’re pretty cool on court, you’re just a--" You hit the player on the stomach, making him curl forward.

"Yeah, he's really cool but, say something negative about him and I'll make sure you won't get to play on court for a few months." You threatened, both Kuroo and Yaku flashing a smirk towards the guy. He left after gaining composure from your attack as you returned to your place beside the libero.

"You're surprisingly brutal, (y/n)-chan." Kuroo let out another laugh, you followed with a giggle.

"Well, I learn only from the best!" You proudly said.

"You make it sound like that hurting people's good.." Yaku pouted, making you kiss his cheek. His eyes shot wide open, his mouth hanging and his face erupted to a color that would put Nekoma's volleyball uniform to shame. He wasn't clearly expecting you to kiss him in public, even if it was on the cheek.

"W-what was that for?!" He asked, with Kuroo still howling from behind you two.

"Hmm, no reason. Just felt like I should." You shrugged, Yaku sighed as he finally managed to bring back the original color to his face.

"God, I love you." He only shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"Love you too, Morisuke." You held his hand, clenching it tightly.

"By the way, nice hit though."

"Thanks babe!" Needless to say, you should really stop surprising the third year or else making him blush would become your next hobby.

In your arms, I feel safe as I fall asleep to the sound of your humming.

38 notes · View notes

lordelmelloi2 · 3 years

Text

Im a little buzzed right now but its time for another . thought process. (these posts are ok to likeand interact with btw)

When I think about Waver and I think about how alone he is and how that leaves him feeling, and how he hates himself, and how he feels unloved, unsupported, I get this feeling that swells up in my whole body and soul and swallows me. this feeling of anger, and sadness, and I get this strong sense of like. I have to do something.

I see so much of myself in him. the choices he makes. the way he’s felt alone for so long. the way he feels he can’t truly tell anybody about what went on, can only speak in vague terms, can’t truly open up, has nobody to speak to. Can only brush aside his pain. the only person who knows all of his pain as well as he does is him alone. and it’s just that, it’s just him steeping in his loneliness, and yet it’s him choosing to take in students and care for them and care about them.

there’s a lot of talk about “saving” or “being saved” in Case Files.

I don’t know if anybody else feels this way, but when you’ve had a lifetime lack of substantial emotional support, it feels, often, like you wish somebody would save you.

You wish that somebody would come by and support you, and stay by your side, and never leave. You wish that somebody would let you lean on their shoulder so you could weep. You wish that somebody would tell you that you’re more than any of the pain you’ve felt. You start to get desperate. As you feel less and less understood by anybody because of the uniqueness of your circumstances, you start to sink deeper into that desire. “I want to be saved. I want to be saved. I want to be saved, I want somebody to be by my side, I want this. I need this. I want to be supported. I want to be saved. I want to be loved by somebody. It isn’t just anybody, it just has to be somebody who truly, genuinely cares about me. Am I not worthy of genuine love and affection? I want to be saved. Maybe I’m not worthy. Aah, that must be it, I’m not worthy, and I never will be. I want to be saved.”

It’s different than the desperation of “anybody will do”. It is. Because you already know at this point what real, genuine care looks like. You know what it’s like to have been emotionally supported once. You’ve tasted it. And lacking it again, you feel like you’re drowning in your own sorrow.

When I see Waver, in his solitude, looking at that mantle, with a complicated expression, when I see him saying he’s merely a survivor of the war, when he calls himself powerless. When he dissociates.

I feel myself suddenly welling up with tears. This for some reason happens more often when I’m hormonal (like now) but it honest to god makes me start sobbing sometimes.

I see so much of myself in him that it’s painful. Through him I’ve learned that we both need support. That we need support, and we need it badly. We need affirmation. We need to know who we are as ourselves. I am Rose. He is Waver Velvet. I know what makes up everything that is the person that is Rose, now. But he doesn’t know himself yet. He has ... the pieces lined up in front of him. He’s getting there. He is.

He is, and I think watching him struggle to understand who he is as Waver Velvet reminds me so much of how difficult it was to figure out who I was, too.

Especially through the lack of support. Especially through the lack of affirmation, especially through the dissociation.

When I see him, I suddenly want to start screaming in anger at the entire world. Why did you let us go for so long alone? What grand sin did we commit to deserve this, being alone and unsupported for this long?

Reflecting back on that, on my anger, I am struck with the same feeling that made me start mentoring in the first place. I have to do something.

I had the power to make a difference simply by being there. This was something I understood decently at this point. So for those who were in similar situations to myself as a teen, I stood by their sides and watched them grow. I wanted to make sure that even if anything bad happened to them that they weren’t alone. I did this because I felt like I had to do something. I had to support them. I had to make sure they weren’t alone. I feel the same boiling rage at my own circumstances at the very idea of them being alone and unsupported.

I just felt like I never ever wanted to see somebody going through what I went through alone ever again.

When I see Waver, I feel the exact same way, only this time, it’s somebody who is more of ‘me’ than anybody else. Somebody who understands the same reason why I started mentoring. Somebody who is “just trying to be an acceptable person”. And then I see him alone, suffering, and I just think. Why isn’t anybody doing anything? I have to do something. I have to be there. I have to support him.

What does it mean to save somebody?

In Case Files, Gray tells Waver that he saved her. He left an incredible mark on her life, changing it for the better. Being by her side and teaching her and guiding her. Getting her out of her hometown. Even if he feels he’s powerless, he was by her side and supported her. Even if he could not physically protect her, he was able to save her.

Then let’s be loose with that definition. If you can save somebody by being by their side. Simply supporting them and caring about them genuinely, unconditionally, and loving them, then that’s a form of salvation.

I want to save him, because if I didn’t, it would mean not saving myself.

Waver’s stubbornness is the same as mine. His poor, bitter attitude is the same. His sense of internal helplessness. Saving others but feeling that you’re not worthy of being saved. Not being able to turn a blind eye to anyone’s suffering but your own.

I’m simply a few steps ahead of him in terms of recovery. Whether he exists or not doesn’t matter, because I found a form of salvation in him. Being able to see what I was going through reflected back at me. That was more than enough. I didn’t feel so alone anymore. Because of him, I figured some things out that I seriously needed to understand to move forward. I would’ve never understood it if I didn’t have him to reference back at me.

I feel genuinely pained, because in seeing him, I realized I deserved the same salvation that I wanted for him so badly. If our circumstances are the same, and I want to see him supported, then I needed it, too. I want to do something. I have to do something. I have to save him, because if I don’t, it would be the same as not saving myself. I need to do something. I need to support him. I can’t let the world treat him this way anymore.

It drives me to tears sometimes. I start feeling like I have to be there for him, literally, by his side, being able to hold him, being able to hold myself. Being able to hold the pieces of him that are me that are lost and want and need support[salvation] so desperately and don’t know what to do without it. Holding him is the same as holding myself and saying that it’s going to be okay, that I’ve got you, that I’m not going to let you go. I’m not going to let you suffer anymore alone. You can share the weight with me.

Part of that is also why I’m a little desperate for him to forgive his younger self. But that’s something I’ve already elaborated on a few times.

When I see him, alone, I feel frustrated that I can’t do anything for him directly. So I make myself fictional and directly translate it over. Maybe not the one that’s in Case Files. But the one that I’ve known in my heart, knowing his experiences, knowing what he’s said, why he’s said it, what he’s doing, and telling him. I’m right here. Please stay grounded with me. I’m right here. I won’t leave your side. I promise. I won’t leave you alone. I’ll ground you. You’re allowed to just be Waver Velvet with me. I don’t need you to be any more or less of who or what you are. It’s okay. I’ve got you.

#LONG post #waverposting maximum...

6 notes · View notes

mlovesstories · 4 years

Text

Their Promise

Summary: YN runs into a royal, the royal runs into YN.

AN: I am so excited for this. I hope you like it as much as I do! Brad means Charlie BRADbury. Thanks to my love @cherryblossomflowers and also to @supernatural-jackles for the inspiration and advice.

Words: 6800

Warnings: cussing. Injuries, death

Tag List

Ask Box

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Please welcome Prince Dean Winchester!” He walked out onto the stage at the gala, raising money for those who had been burned by fires that ravaged their country in the previous weeks.

“Thank you for joining me tonight. We all know why we are here. Please, let’s do what we can to help the families that need it the most right now. Enjoy your evening, and let’s see those checkbooks!” Dean laughed. “Good evening.” He raised his glass of apple cider and so did the crowd below him.

“Cheers,” they all said.

Prince Dean interacted with the crowd to gain their attention for the cause. Being a professional at conversation, he made everyone comfortable and relaxed. In a way, it was a façade. Dean was those things, but he had to work hard to maintain them consistently.

“Your Highness, the king wants to see you. Please say good night to your guests,” his main security guard prompted him.

“Okay. One second.” Dean stepped back on stage and announced his departure. The security team guided him from the event back to his family’s palace.

“Hi, Dad.” Dean saw a distraught look on his father’s face. King John Winchester hugged his son at the bottom of the stairs as his son came in. “What’s wrong?” He was baffled by his dad’s gesture.

“Your mom. She was in-”

“DAD!” Prince Samuel ran into the room, disheveled and breathing hard. “Security said there was an emergency. What happened?”

“Your mom, she was in a car accident…. She didn’t make it. They won’t let me go see her.” John started crying. Sam and Dean looked to each other before trying to catch their father as he fell to the marble floor in the foyer on the home. His boys were overcome with emotion as well, tears falling onto each other and their clothes. Dean held his dad and his brother, fulfilling his natural role in the family. What were they going to do without her? As John straightened, he explained, “Security hasn’t let all of the leaders know yet. The crash was just outside the gates, so hopefully that will stop the news from spreading before it needs to.” The three leaders wiped their eyes.

John went on to describe what had happened in more detail.

“Your mom’s driver wasn’t paying attention and crashed into a wall. Mom was impacted immediately. I can’t go to her. I want to see her.”

“I know, but we can’t. When things like this happen leaders can’t be in the same location.” Dean reasoned, relying on his royal duty handbook.

“She’s my wife,” the king responded, trying to justify going to see his love.

“Sir, can we escort you to your room?” One of the butlers looked to the oldest Winchester. The three royal family members stood from the ground.

“No, thank you, Rupert. I need to be with my boys.”

“Yes, Your Highness. You will be needed in about an hour to meet with authorities for next steps.” He bowed.

“Thank you, Rupert. You are excused.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The butler bowed again and left the room.

Dean changed from his tuxedo into jeans and a tshirt. The tuxedo represented so many things that he hated about being part of the royal family. He was angry and very emotional. Taking it off was shredding a skin he used only when needed.

Before the three realized how much time had gone by, security came to address the family.

“Your Highness, Princes Winchester?”

The family looked up from the couches they were quietly sitting on, staring at nothing.

“Yes?” Dean looked to Benny, his favorite of the security team.

“King Winchester, we would like to take you to her. The appropriate people have been notified. She is at the hospital.”

“We’re going too.” Sam interjected, almost defensive.

“Sam, at ease.” John put a hand up to calm him. “Thank you, Lafitte. We will be right there. Please let the team know we need to put ourselves together. We’ll be ready in five minutes.”

Hurriedly, the three men grabbed jackets and shoes before being taken to a private hospital room. Mary lied on the bed, motionless. The color was gone from her body.

Sam gasped looking at her.

A doctor walked in behind them and gave them an update. He explained how the accident rattled her body and killed her. He asked if they would like a moment with her.

“Please,” the husband whispered.

“Yes, sir.” The doctor left the hospital room. Security provided three chairs for them to sit with her.

“Oh, Mary,” John sighed sadly.

After a few moments with the queen, Benny stepped in the room.

“It’s time to say goodbye, we need to move you so that the news is not aware of her death yet.”

“Benny…” Dean groaned.

“I’m sorry, Prince Winchester.”

“Give us one more minute,” Sam stated. Benny left the room and guarded the door. The youngest walked from his chair, squeezed her hand, and said goodbye. As the royal family left, a sheet was pulled over Mary’s body. John, Dean, and Sam were escorted out of the building and back to the palace.

The next morning, the queen’s death was announced to the world. The family grieved as they had to remain professional and well… royal. Exhibiting their somber faces but no tears, they made their statement to the news outlets.

“She was a great leader, mom, and wife. We will miss her greatly. Please pray for our family as we process the loss of our great Queen Mary.” John ended his announcement on the palace balcony. The security team guided them back inside.

A few days later, the environment was very stiff.

“Sir, we need to make some arrangements for her funeral,” their most respected assistant talked with John. “Everything is picked out, we just need to go over everything one more time. While we do that, why don’t you rest? Have you eaten anything in the past two days?” Charlie rubbed his arm.

“No, I haven’t, Brad. Can you send up some crackers and water to my room? I’m not very hungry.”

“Yes, of course. RUPERT!” Charlie yelled for the butler over the noise of the staff. “Get some crackers and water for the king, please, and maybe some fruit too. Bring it up to the master suite, please. Check on the princes as well. They haven’t eaten either.” Charlie walked with King John as he got closer to his room.

“I’m sleeping in guest bedroom one.” He abruptly stated, a glossy expression covering his face.

“Of course, sir. I’ll send Rupert here then. He will be with you momentarily.”

He turned to look at his assistant.

“Will you miss her, Charlie?” John dropped the formalities, as she was more than an assistant to him.

“Oh, yes sir.” She weakly smiled. “But it isn’t my job to be sad. My job is to help you with this and fulfill my duties.” Charlie took a deep breath.

“She loved you.”

“And I loved her too.” She almost broke down, but she felt she needed to keep herself together for professional reasons. “Go rest, King Winchester. Rupert will be here in a moment with your snack. And for the love of Chuck, please eat it,” she winked.

“You’re bringing Chuck into this?” He laughed. “Just because he beat me at the writing competition once does not mean he is an almighty god or something.”

“Sure, Your Highness.” Charlie grinned wryly. “Rest,” she pushed him toward the door of the guest bedroom. “Sleep if you can, okay?”

“I Chuck swear,” he smiled. John entered the room, happy to be alone and in a room that didn’t remind him of his love. After he ate a few bites of his food, he fell asleep.

The Winchester Family put on brave faces as they went through the royal duties and attending events because of their mother’s death. Being in their twenties, Dean and Sam tried their best to act as grown up as they could, but they knew all of the procedures and politics of Mary’s death was a lot to handle.

“Let’s go,” John stood behind his boys, motioning for them to walk to their back door.

“Why do we have to go? We said goodbye to her in front of everyone already.” Sam groaned.

“They want to see us at her grave site. It’s on the property and will take five minutes. One last thing, Sammy.” John felt bad for his sons. Yes, they were adults, but he didn’t want them to face this at such a young age.

They did as they were expected, having news outlets taking photos of them standing and looking at her headstone.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Sam led the way back to the palace.Tired from having to put on a brave face, he wanted to have his own space.

A few hours later, the king told his sons they would be flying to Lawrence, Kansas.

“Why?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Haven’t we been putting on a face long enough? Why do we have to travel the world and pretend mom didn’t just DIE?” He started to stomp away.

“”I AM THE KING, AND YOU WILL TREAT ME AS SUCH!” John growled. Dean stopped, forgetting formalities. He turned back to his dad. “You know I don’t expect you to bow at my every whim, but I am your father and the king of Genovia.”

“Sorry,” he looked away from the king.

“We are going because we are having a private memorial with just your mom’s family. Grandpa Samuel is too old to travel, so we are going to him.”

“Don’t we hate him?” Sam looked at his dad.

“No,” John laughed. “He’s just rough around the edges. He doesn’t like me because he thinks I made your mom become a royal,” he put a finger up, “but I didn’t. It was completely her choice to enter this family. We leave tomorrow. Pack your things tonight so that Rupert can put them in the car.”

The boys stood in their places taking in what was happening. When John saw they were not doing as told, he glared at them.

“You’ll have plenty of time by yourselves on this trip. Go get your things in order,” he turned and left the room.

The next day, they flew to Kansas. Both princes were quiet, but John didn’t ask why. He knew they were tired and frustrated.

“Why don’t you both go take a nap?”

“Fine.” Dean moved through the plane with ease. The other two Winchester men heard a crash and his body hit the bed.

“Sam?”

“No, thanks.” Sam turned to look out the window.

After they landed and arrived at Samuel’s home, the three Winchesters were surrounded by security.

“Benny, some space, please.” King Winchester stated flatly. Benny heard the tone in his voice.

“Boys, cars only.” He watched as the team walked toward the vehicles that they had arrived in. “Two around back and two in the front.”

“Thank you,” John smiled.

“I get to come in and sit on this guy’s couch.”

“Benny-“

“No. I stay or the whole security team surrounds the house.”

John chuckled.

“Okay.”

“Boys.” Samuel nodded from his recliner. “Just so we are clear, you are not royalty in this house. You are my son-in-law and grandsons. When is the memorial service for my daughter?” He looked at John. Charlie stepped in.

“Tomorrow at noon.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m… a friend trying to help the family keep their calendars going through this difficult time. My name is Charlie, and I think you raised a wonderful woman. Excuse me while I take a moment.” She stepped outside to take a walk in the backyard.

“Is she one of your little minions that makes everything perfect for you?” Samuel said passively.

“Hey!” Dean growled. “She is our friend and mom’s assistant. Leave her out of this.”

“Dean, it’s fine. Samuel, we need three guest bedrooms. Is that okay or would you like us to go to a hotel? The boys can take one room, the security team and staff needs one, and I need the third.”

“Fine, Winchester,” Samuel groaned.

“If you don’t want us here, let’s go home.” Dean stared at him.

“Get your ass out of my house if you talk to me like that. Or I’ll send you to one of the rooms like a little boy!”

“Samuel,” John calmed him. “Boys, take the room with the two beds. Please pull out the air mattresses from the closet for Benny, Charlie, and whoever else needs one.”

“Charlie can be with us. Not that she doesn’t love you, Benny. She loves us more though,” Dean grinned.

“I will be on the couch by the entrance, but thank you, King Winchester. The extra room can be for the guys outside. I’m Benny Lafitte, Mr. Campbell. Head of security. It’s very nice to meet you. Don’t mind me. Please continue as you would.”

“Right…” Samuel huffed.

The princes walked up the stairs and did as told. Not wanting Charlie with a bunch of guys in the same room, Sam put a small air mattress between the two beds. They were very protective of her.

“Dean Winchester, why am I sharing a room with two princes instead of the staff?” Charlie raised a brow. She loved them like brothers, but it still surprised her.

“You want to be in a room full of dudes who we don’t even know the names of or do you want to be with us?”

She hadn’t really thought about it. Charlie saw the caring nature in both of them, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“Fine, but keep your hands to yourself, Winchester,” she smiled knowing he would never do any such thing.

“Hands off, promise,” he smirked. “Let’s go. Time for bed. Even you, Missy.”

Charlie started, “I have to finish up the-“

“We will carry you up the stairs if we have to, Brad,” Sam grinned.

She grabbed her backpack and went up the stairs. As they followed her, she said, “Fine, but don’t complain when I have to pee every two hours from drinking so much water to keep up with you guys.” She could hear Dean’s eyes roll.

“Bed, now,” he responded.

“Yes, your majesty.”

The boys did NOT have a lot of alone time in Kansas. Dean needed out.

“Dad, I’m going to New York!” Dean yelled obstinately at his father.

“No, you are not! You are the prince! You cannot galavant across the United States!”

“Watch me!” Dean pounded down the steps of Samuel’s house, Benny following. “You better stay here Benny, or I swear-“

“FINE- be back at the palace in two weeks. AND BRING BENNY WITH YOU!” John shouted out the front door. “That’s an order from the King!” He gritted his teeth.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, come on, Benny.”

The two drove to New York with hats, sunglasses, and winter clothes as to not be recognized.

“You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?” Benny glared at his friend and prince.

“Leave it alone, Benny.”

“I’m not driving you to New York with an attitude like that!” Benny punched the gas of the town car. “And where in the world are we going to park this thing?”

“We’ll figure it out! And don’t tell me how to talk to my father!”

“You’re running away, and you know it!”

“I need a second to breathe, man! I’m tired of being somber! I’m tired of the cameras and people asking me about my mom’s death! It’s been two weeks, how do they think I’m doing?” Dean pounded the dashboard.

“Fine, but don’t be an ass!” Benny shouted. “I am not going to die protecting you just because you want to do something erratic!”

Dean hadn’t thought about it that way. He was putting others’ lives in danger. He sighed, calming himself.

“I’m sorry, Benny.”

“Now, shut up and let me drive.”

When they arrived in New York, they gave the car to the valet and checked in under a fake name.

“I’m going to go hit the bar-“ Dean started.

“No, you’re not. I’m in charge. King’s orders, remember?”

“Benny, don’t.”

They dropped off they’re few belongings in a two bedroom suite.

“Yes. I’m ordering drinks for the room.”

“Benny, come on!”

“Just for tonight. Get settled, and tomorrow we’ll go out.” His bodyguard tried to reason with him.

“Fine, but I l’m getting hammered then.” The prince stated his argument defiantly.

“Whatever, Winchester.”

Benny ordered food and drink for them both, a soda for him and some brandy for Dean.

The next morning, Benny woke up to the prince groaning.

Hung over.

Benny rolled over and sighed. He stood and got dressed before checking on Prince Dean.

“Lafitte! I hate you.” Dean stayed as he saw his security enter his room. “You let me get drunk, and now I feel like crap.”

“You’ll live.” He grinned. “Drink some water.”

Dean slowly felt better throughout the day.

“I’m not getting drunk tonight. Remind me what happened today when I want to get drunk again.”

“Yes, Prince Dean.”

“There is a matinee I want to see at 4. Can we go, bodyguard?” He laughed.

“Hat, sunglasses, and hair messed up. But yes.”

“YES!” Dean became excited like a small child.

A few hours later, Benny looked Dean over before they left for the show.

“Be good,” his bodyguard groaned.

“You know I’ll be on my best behavior,” the prince grinned.

“Go,” Benny turned him toward the door. “I will bring you back right here if you don’t keep a low profile, you hear me?”

“It’s going to be fine, ya grump.”

“Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Dean enjoyed the show, but Benny scanned through crowd over and over. The prince put his hand on the arm rest and felt a hand already there.

“Oh, sorry, miss,” Dean smiled when he saw a beautiful woman. “I didn’t know-“ he stopped.

“It’s okay.” She grinned.

For the rest of the movie, Dean was a statue. He tried to catch up to her after the movie ended. He tapped her shoulder, she turned around.

“Are you from a vending machine? Because you are a snack.”

Oh, you idiot. Dean cringed at his own words.

“Wow, smooth.” YN smiled.

“That was dumb, I’m sorry,” Dean ran a hand over his face. “You’re- youre YN LN,” the prince jumbled his words.

“Yeah…” she rolled her eyes internally.

Another chump.

“I love your show. Your character is strong, and independent. And beautiful.” Dean’s cheeks went red.

“Well, thank you.”

“Do you want to get a drink? I’m free and it’s early. No leading on, I promise,” he said seriously.

“Oh my-“ she realized who he was. Dean knew it too.

“Never mind.” He tried to pass her.

“We met once,” YN stated. He turned around. “There was a gala a few weeks ago-“

“You were in Genovia?” His eyes widened.

Benny stood off to the side, frustrated that YN recognized the prince.

“Yeah. I guess I made the rich list or something. You were a great host.”

“Obviously not good enough since I wasn’t paying attention to you,” Dean sighed, angry at himself.

“What are you doing here? Isn’t this a little… normal for a prince?”

“Can we move this along? For everyone’s safety?” Benny looked between the two of them.

“Would you mind coming to my suite, I don’t want to be recognized. I promise I will keep off.”

“Sure. As long as your dog stays down too,” she turned to Benny and laughed. “Come on,” she took his hand. YN let him lead the way back to his hotel room..

YN was nervous as she had never met any world leaders before. What she didn’t know was that Dean was even more nervous. They both wrung their hands together and Dean’s knee didn’t stop bobbing up and down.

“It’s nice to meet you, Prince Dea-“

“Please,” he put a hand up, “just call me Dean.”

“Okay… Dean.” YN smiled. “Why are you in the city?”

“I needed to get away, honestly. With what happened with my mom, I just…” he stopped.

“Needed to breathe.”

“Right.” He nodded.

“I get that. You’ve probably been surrounded by everyone asking about it. Being anonymous is probably a dream for you.”

“Eh, sometimes. I don’t mind being in front of people. Everyone knowing my business isn’t fun.”

“I understand.”

“You mean you don’t want other people to know you wore a purple scarf at a dinner with a friend who you used to be frenemies with?” Dean chuckled.

“Exactly,” she eased.

“Wine?” Dean asked. “Benny can get room service.”

“Benny is not your butler, I’m sure.” YN grinned. “But yes, that would be lovely. Rosé if you don’t mind.”

Sticks up for herself and lets me know what she likes. Yes, please.

“I will order it then,” he smiled. Dean got on the phone and ordered the wine.

“Wow, you did something so normal!” YN cackled. Dean took a moment and then laughed with her.

“People don’t know that I do normal stuff all the time.”

“I’m sure you do, I’m just giving you a hard time.”

Over the next few hours, both of them laughed and realized they had a lot in common.

“Prince Winchester, you have an early morning tomorrow,” Benny interrupted.

“Right,” YN excused herself. “So do I. Thank you, Dean. Sleep well.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

After she left, Dean turned to Benny.

“You ruined my date!”

“Go to bed.” Benny crossed his arms. “It’s late.”

“Are you my father?!” Dean squared up to his bodyguard.

“You’re halfway drunk and you were about to make a fool of yourself.”

“Whatever,” the prince rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed.”

Dean only slept because of the wine. He woke up remembering his evening with YN LN.

“Did I get her number?” He ran into Benny’s room.

“You ass.” His bodyguard groaned and rolled over. “No,” Benny growled.

“DAMMIT!” Dean retrieved the paper and saw himself on the front page. “BENNY!”

His bodyguard jumped out of bed. He saw the photo.

“We need to go home. Now.”

“But I met a girl, and-“

“No. Get your crap. We need to go.”

Dean heard his phone ring.

“Dad.” He sighed. Dean answered the phone. “I know, I know, Benny and I are on our way home.”

“Good. We’ll see you in a few hours.”

They hung up.

“I hate you.” Dean stated to his bodyguard.

“Come on, time to go home. Be thankful she isn’t in the photo too.”

“Good point.”

YN saw the photo in the New York Times.

“He got spotted.”

She tossed the paper on the table.

“Poor guy,” YN’s mom said at breakfast. “The prince needed time away and then he was recognized.”

“Yeah.” YN hid the fact that she had seen him the night before.

She wondered if she would hear from him, especially since he was probably trying to hide.

He tried to find her and contact her, but she didn’t have any personal social media. He knew her publicist ran the pages, not her, and he had reached out but no response. Dean became discouraged.

YN felt dismayed that she hadn’t heard from him, and she didn’t want to seem desperate.

“I have to go, Mom.” She grabbed her things. “I’ll be home in a few weeks.”

YN took her passport and put it in her bag.

“Be safe.”

YN landed and saw a friend waiting for her.

“Hi,” she said quietly. “How are you?”

“Good!”

At the palace, Prince Dean stared out the dance hall window.

“Your Highness?” Charlie stepped into the room.

Dean turned toward the family’s assistant.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Your Majesty, can I be frank?”

“You know you can.” He grinned.

“You need a hug.” Charlie looked at him sincerely.

Dean laughed, not expecting that to come out of her mouth.

“That obvious, huh?”

“The last few months haven’t exactly been easy.” Charlie walked toward him. “Come here,” they sat down on a couch off to the side. He slouched until he was comfortable. She wrapped her arms around him.

They sat there quietly. A few minutes later, she looked down to see him asleep on her lap. She smiled.

“Dean?” Sam rounded the doorway when he saw Charlie and Dean in the dark.

“Shh… he finally relaxed.” Charlie looked at the younger prince.

“Oh. Okay.” Sam stopped.

“Come here, you lug.”

Sam started to walk toward her. She motioned for him to sit.

“Lie on the other side.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. Since he was so big, she leaned into him.

After some time, they all fell asleep.

“DEAN! SAM!” The king’s voice bellowed throughout the halls. He checked the dance hall and found three of his favorite people asleep. John stopped, taking in the scene. He saw Dean snuggled into Charlie and Sam against her. Benny arrived next to the king.

“We need to go in an hour.” The bodyguard started toward the three of them.

“No, leave them. We can be late. They haven’t relaxed like that for months.”

“Charlie is on duty, sir.”

“Leave them, Lafitte. That’s an order. That is evidence that she does her job right there. Don’t disturb them.” King Winchester said lowly.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Benny bowed slightly and left the room.

“Boys, Brad,” the king walked into the dance hall a half hour later to wake Charlie and his sons.

“Huh?” Charlie’s eyes opened. “Oh, sir! I’m so sorry! I-”

“Got my boys to sleep? First time in two months.” He smiled. “You’re fine.”

“Boys, wake up.” Charlie tried to move but was squished between the two.

“Dean, Sam.” John said deeply. “Come on.” He tapped them both to wake up.

Dean moved first.

“Oh, hey, Dad. Sam. Get up.”

Once all three were awake, they got ready for guests to fill the hall.

Charlie ran her fingers through her hair, straightened her outfit, and made sure the boys were ready.

“You’re bossy.” Dean smiled.

“It’s part of the job description. Come on, hurry up!” She left his room and knocked on Sam’s door. “Sam, time to go!” She heard a low “Be right there!”

The ball was their annual get-together. Known throughout the country as the best party of the year, Dean and Sam knew to be on their best behavior and smile while others felt bad for them losing their mother. No one knew, but Dean was aware that he would probably cry later from the facade he had to put on.

“Thank you all for joining us this evening. Please partake in food and drink to celebrate the new year!” King Winchester shouted to his guests. Raising his glass, he cheered with the crowd and drank the entire glass within a few seconds.

The Winchester Family greeted and interacted with what felt like a thousand people. They were all becoming tired when a young lady walked confidently to Dean.

“Hello, Prince Winchester. May I have this dance?”

Dean didn’t care at this point. He didn’t realize how cunning she looked… but Charlie and Benny did. They looked to each other as to say that they would be watching her closely. Charlie saw the lady’s hand go lower and lower on Dean’s back. The assistant could tell he was tensing. She stepped in.

“Prince, can I have a few minutes? A dignitary donated a large amount of money to your organization and would love a photo with you.” Charlie carried her clipboard and smiled to his dance partner.

“Of course. Excuse me, miss.” As he walked away, he thanked Charlie. “Brad, she was driving me crazy! She was so... handsy!”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”

YN landed on her friend’s guest bed.

“Thanks for letting me stay here. I’d much rather stay here than a hotel. The production people are lovely about where they were going to have me stay, but I’m so glad to see you.”

“Of course.” Eileen signed, her hearing getting worse.

Dean went to bed after the party. His schedule was cleared for the next day by Charlie so that he could recover from the party.

“Thank you, Brad,” he hugged her before going to bed. “You always look out for me.”

“You know it. Go to bed,” she turned him toward the door and lightly pushed him to enter his room. “Good night, Prince Dean.”

”You suck.”

“Go!” Charlie laughed.

“‘’Night, Brad.”

“And cut!” The director yelled to the cast.

“Ugh,” YN sighed. She wiped her tears from the hard scene.

“Again, please! Great job, YN!”

“Winchester!” Benny ran up to the oldest prince as he was about to exit the back entrance of the palace to a car waiting. “Where in the hell are you going without me?”

“Stop following me around!” Dean turned to face Benny. “Just leave me alone!”

“Dean,” Charlie said quietly as she walked up to the two. “Just take a breath.” She put her hand up. Dean dismissively turned back toward the door. She cut in front of him. “Just stop for one second. I know that the last few days have been hard. Why don’t I go with you? Benny can stay here.” Dean looked at her. He saw her seriousness and sweetness.

“Okay. Lafitte, stay here.” The prince looped his arm through Charlie’s and then walked out of the door.

“I gotta ask you something, Winchester Numero Uno.” Before they entered the vehicle, he huffed at her. “Where were you thinking of going?”

“Anywhere. I’m pent up, and I need to get out.”

Charlie asked the driver to take them somewhere Dean didn’t hear. He didn’t care.

The prince stared out the window of the town car as they went to the unknown destination.

“Dean,” Charlie whispered.

“What, Brad? What? How can I help you? Along with the thousands of others who have been asking me questions lately.”

She smiled. Charlie knew he was frustrated.

“I was going to ask if you wanted some sour candy.” She chuckled. “But I can keep them for myself…” she took out the bag and reached into it. He snatched it out of her hand and ate a piece before she knew what happened. “HEY!” His assistant punched him in the arm.

“Best question I’ve been asked since you asked if I wanted a hug.”

“‘Cuz I’m awesome.” Charlie grinned.

“Where are we going?”

“My old stomping grounds. No one will recognize you here, and it’s late so no one will see me either. Let’s go.” After the driver parked, the two exited the car. She took his arm and huddled against him because she was chilled.

“Why are you always cold?”

“You didn’t exactly give me a second to get ready to go out, dumbass. You were throwing your little tantrum.”

“I’m sorry, Charlie-”

“I’ll live. Come on.” She practically dragged him into a restaurant with no one in it. The shop owner smiled and Charlie asked for her regular order. “I’ll order for you, Winnie. I know what you like.”

Taking a seat, he looked around. Dean smiled at the nickname she used to make sure they weren’t found out.

“Winnie, really?” He laughed as Charlie sat down to wait for their order.

“I can’t call you Dean, you know that. Will you relax?”

“Oh, crap.” Dean saw a group of people walking toward the door of the restaurant.

“Switch me.” Charlie stood up and had Dean sit to face away from everyone. She handed him her hat, and he put it on.

Everyone ordered and slowly left the room. Charlie encouraged Dean to eat, but he was nervous about being recognized. While trying to remain calm, someone bumped him with her hip. He turned out of instinct.

“Sorry,” she quickly stated.

“It’s okay,” he responded. “It’s-” he froze. “You.”

“Dean?” YN whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Dean looked at her confusedly.

“Guys, move it along.” Charlie stated urgently.

“Here,” YN scribbled her number on a napkin. “Facetime me later,” she smiled. “Good to see you. Nice to meet you…?”

“Charlie, assistant extraordinaire.” She shook her hand.

“Goodnight, Dean.” YN whispered again, trying to respect his anonymity for the moment.

Dean raced through the palace to find his brother. He knocked on his brother’s door.

“GO AWAY!”

“It’s Dean, open up!” The older one pounded on the door again. When Sam opened the door in his pajamas and messy hair, Dean took a breath. “I found her!”

“It’s 3am and we have to fly tomorrow for… whatever it is. What in the hell are you talking about?”

“YN LN. The actress! She’s in Genovia!”

“Huh?”

Dean walked into Sam’s room and shut the door. He sat in one of the chairs close to the bed.

“She didn’t say. Charlie took me to this place and we were eating. She was with a group of people. YN accidentally hit me with her hip, and she recognized me when I turned around. I got her number.” He beamed.

“This couldn’t wait til morning?” Sam sighed.

“You know how much I wished I could’ve gotten her number the first time, come on, man! Be excited for me!”

“I’m excited for you, now get out,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“You two better be in bed!” They could hear Charlie say on the other side of the door.

“The ruler of the roost has spoken,” Dean smiled. “‘Night, Sammy.” He left the room to find Charlie with her arms crossed. “I’m going, I’m going…” She pinched his ear and dragged him toward his own room. “OW!”

“You promised me that you would go to bed after we got home, mister. GO.”

The prince chuckled.

“Good night, Brad.”

“Sweet dreams, Prince Dean.”

The next evening, Charlie stomped into Dean’s hotel room.

“Have you called her yet?”

“Huh?” He stared at the TV.

“YN!” She kicked his feet off the ottoman.

“What is wrong with you? You manhandle me like I am a child!” Dean stood and walked into the restroom, shutting the door.

“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Charlie smiled. “You’re grumpy because you’re tired.”

When Dean was finished, he walked out to wash his hands.

“I haven’t called her yet. I’ll do it tomorrow when I have more time.”

“You never have any time, you’re a prince,” Charlie plopped herself down on a chair.

“Will you go away? I’m tired. You’re always telling me to go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She stood up and walked past him.

“Brad,” he grabbed her wrist. She stopped and eyed him curiously. “Thanks, little one,” he kissed her hand. She rolled her eyes.

“Lights out, five minutes.” Charlie grinned. “‘Night, Prince Dean.”

After arriving home, Dean paced back and forth in the living room.

“Call her.” Charlie said seriously.

“You aren’t helping.”

“I saw her number. I can call her for you if you like?” Charlie grinned wryly. “You have five minutes or I will do it for you.”

“You are such a dick.” He huffed at her.

“Hurry, we have that leader dinner thing in an hour and you need to be changed.”

Dean walked into his room and sat down. He pressed the facetime button and called YN.

“Oh- my-” YN stuttered. “Hi, Dean.”

“Hi, beautiful.”

She blushed.

“I don’t have a lot of time because… royal stuff, but I wanted to say you looked amazing the other night.”

YN laughed.

“I was in sweats and a t-shirt, Prince Dean.”

“I know,” he raised a brow. “So what are you doing in Genovia?”

“A movie.” YN shrugged.

“So your wonderful face will be on a screen near me sometime soon?” He giggled at his joke.

“Lame…” she rolled her eyes sarcastically.

They talked for a bit about little things. Dean liked her even more. He heard a knock at the door.

“I need to go, it’s time for me to get ready. Sweet dreams, YN.”

“Prince Dean, please get ready, you need to be there soon.” Benny stepped inside.

“I’ll be ready, thanks.”

Dean and Sam hiked themselves up the stairs and away from their guests, loosening their ties.

“I’m exhausted, good night bro.” Sam passed Dean to go to his room.

Dean didn’t hear Charlie walk up behind him.

“Dean,” she started. When he didn’t turn around, she faced him to read his expression. Charlie saw tears about to fall. She took his hand and walked him into his room and shut the door. “What happened?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure. That’s why you could barely get in here without crying,” she looked at him kindly.

“It’s nothing. I think I’m just overwhelmed.”

“You know you can talk to me.” Charlie rubbed his back.

“Thanks, Brad.”

“We need to talk about YN, but you should relax.”

“Nosey,” he chuckled.

YN and Dean talked more consistently and she visited the palace on one of her days off.

Sam was walking through the living room when he saw her. He raised a brow, confused.

“You must be YN,” he walked to her and shook her hand.

“Prince Winchester, nice to meet you.”

“Move along, Sasquatch. YN and I are going to watch a movie,” Dean walked in with popcorn.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you,” Sam smiled and left.

“Your country is beautiful,” YN sighed, happy.

“It’s not mine, but I understand what you mean. It’s gorgeous. Like someone I know.”

“Scruffy?” YN laughed, pointing to the dog.

“Close, but no. You ready to watch this movie? Get comfy. It’s kind of long, but totally worth it.”

YN ended up falling asleep against Dean. They woke up the next morning to King John’s bellowing through the palace.

“DEAN! I need you!” He saw Dean and YN on the couch and touched his shoulder. “Son, wake up,” he said gently.

“Huh? Oh. What’s wrong?” Dean tried to sit up without disturbing YN.

“It’s Sam, he was hurt. He’s fine, but he stepped outside and was hit with a stun gun. Security caught the guy, but-”

Dean raced to the in-palace infirmary. He threw the door open to find Sam with his shirt off and two marks on his chest.

“I’m fine, Dee.” Sam huffed.

“Where is this person, and can I pummel him?”

Sam started to laugh but stopped when he realized how much it hurt.

“No,” their dad walked in. “He’s a jerk, but he’s looney. He didn’t understand what he was doing.”

Dean dismissed his father’s remarks.

“Sammy, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Dean knocked his hand against Sam’s and left.

“Is Sam okay?” YN rose from the couch.

“He’ll be okay.”

“Maybe I should go,” she weakly smiled.

“No, you’re fine. My dad is taking care of everything. Sit down,” he collapsed on the couch and motioned for her to sit down.

“Okay,” YN sat down.

They continued to date in secret so that they wouldn’t be in the public eye. Once they had become serious, they were ready to be seen in public.

“You ready to do this?” Dean changed his shirt from a button up to a polo.

YN took a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

They went to a tennis match. In front of people. Together.

The couple could feel everyone’s stares and glances.

“Are you still happy we did this?” Dean looked down at his girlfriend.

“I think so. People would have found out about us anyway, I guess. I’m ready to go, can we?” She looked to their bodyguard.

“Of course, ma’am,” Benny motioned for her to walk toward him and up the stadium steps.

“I’m tired, that’s fine with me.” The prince moved so that she could step in front of him and walk to Benny.

“Thank you, Benny,” YN took Dean’s hand to lead him up the stairs behind Benny. The crowd murmured. “I don’t know if I will ever get used to that.”

“Eh, part of the life now, princess.” Dean grinned.

“Shut up, Dean!” YN whacked him with her purse. The crowd giggled.

After they went back to the palace, they turned on YN’s movie that she had shot in Genovia over one year previous.

She looked over at Dean to see him wiping away a few tears that he barely let out.

“Honey,” she took his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“You died, sweetheart. I don’t ever want that.”

“I died in the story, not in real life. Come here.” YN opened her arms to him. He snuggled in next to her. “I’ll be with you until the end.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Forever Friends (Everything):

@katymacsupernatural @unicornblood4ever @supernatural-crazed-girl

@fangirl-moment-x @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl @super100012

@percywinchester27 @waywardsuns @supernatural-jackles

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09 @kingandrear @bellero @skylarraker

@seality @jaycc7983 @luci-in-trenchcoats

@cherryblossomflowers @because-you-never-know-when

@sleepylunarwolf @choosemyname

@internationalmusicteacher @mersuperwholocked-lowlife

@encounterthepast @torn-and-frayed

@giggles1026 @xiumin-girl99

@mangueweaschester

@idksupernatural @silverstripe101A

@thevelvetseries @jennawinchester152a * @samsgirl93 * @supernatural3002 *

@tmiships4life * @breereadsthings * @mersuperwholocked-lowlife *

@a-magey @vicmc624 @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @beatifuldisaster018

@miraclesoflove @myopiamystical @fallen-wolf22

@waywardnewcomer

@marvelouslysherlockedhunter

#mlovesstories #mlovesstoriescanon #dean x reader

69 notes · View notes

rpbetter · 3 years

Note

what's the nicest possible way to tell a close friend their roleplay blogs suck and if they want followers and interaction like they keep complaining about they have to actually put effort into it instead of just making blog after blog and slapping a character on it like that's they need to do. I've tried to suggest this to her before by comparing other blogs that play her muse but she just feels inadequate instead of inspired to emulate them which I understand but it's very frustrating when I suggest a million ways to make her blog better and she brushes them all off for one reason or another and I don't want to say anything because she's like a sister to me. sigh.

Unfortunately, the short answer to this is that there really isn't any way you can make her see this unless she's ready to see it.

But, I don't like giving those sorts of answers, they feel hopeless and shitty, so, let's try this...

Understanding what the problem with your friend and her connecting with this information is, is important. It might help in talking to her about the issue.

What I find in these instances, and a lot of similar ones, is that the mun is unhappy about the results but quite happy with the process. She's enjoying some part of this, it's just not the lack of interaction, obviously. It's the very things she's doing to turn people off of her muses.

I think a lot of people get kind of addicted to new muses. I mean, the entire process of having a new muse:

interest to outright fixation, no matter how short-lived, in a new, inspiring muse

who is almost certainly in a new fandom, and probably, one that is very busy and popular at the moment

"someone stop me" phase, even though they've already decided

picking the perfect URL, creating the new blog, making the graphics and batches of icons

reblogging All The Content about the new muse, at least, the visual content and maybe, a couple of "oof, right in the feels" style short meta posts

plugging the new muse on the old blogs, through friends, etc.

mass follows

new mutuals! Shiny new meme asks in the inbox! New threads!

It's about the newness, the excitement, and the irrationally promising feeling that damn it, this time, the blog and muse is going to be successful, popular even, beloved, the actual favorite iteration of the character in the RPC. Like anything exciting, it's addicting for people. And like anything addicting, it can take hitting rock bottom and going several more feet down, a few times, before they're over it and want to change.

Which is, of course, where you come in with your as-yet failed RP interventions.

What makes what you're trying to do here very difficult is that there isn't a total bottoming out she's going to reach. There will always be something new and exciting coming out with a new and exciting muse that'll fix the problem, in her mind. There will always be the option and availability to create another blog, slap another muse on it, rinse and repeat. With shampoo and conditioner that never runs out.

You definitely had the right idea by trying to get her to contrast between why what she is doing isn't working the way she wants and why what someone else is doing is working out that way. It's just, as you found out, often not the best idea, no matter how well-intentioned it is. With her blogs constantly failing for reasons she refuses to believe, it's incredibly likely she's already done some comparison in all the wrong ways, ultimately going back and forth between blaming the other iterations, finding nothing but errors in the way they write the character and set up their blogs, and feeling depressed that she's not good enough, but they are.

So, you might have unintentionally inflamed all of this! She could be in a place where she's even more likely to believe that what she's doing is great as a defense mechanism for being hard on herself.

I'd also like to say that I'm aware the "right" advice here is, "there's nothing you can do, you'll just make her feel bad, people have a right to RP however they want." But, you're also her friend, and you have to be around the complaining and upset when this just keeps happening.

Furthermore, when we have very close friends like this, we automatically keep trying to fill in the gaps for them at cost to ourselves - every time they make another blog/muse, we get roped into writing things we know are just going to be dropped, making them things we know are going to left on a deserted blog, and so on. Eventually, it makes you feel bad about yourself because your efforts aren't good enough, either. It can really ruin the hobby for you, sucking away enjoyment and creativity you could be spending elsewhere.

I don't think you're wrong in trying to help both her and yourself.

Keep being honest with her. When she complains, be honest about why this is happening. And you can, indeed, be kind and honest!

Let's say that she says something about how she wrote all these opens and no one is going for them.

You could say something like, "that sucks. I liked this one, it's the one that feels and sounds like the character to me. What were you doing when you wrote that? You should rewrite the others to be a little more like that, I think people are looking for more of the character like we saw them in the series."

You're acknowledging that she's right, it does suck, it's a shitty feeling no matter how at fault for it she is. While pointing out something she did good (and, okay, maybe she didn't, maybe they all categorically sucked lol but find one that was even a tiny bit better/that has elements you can use to both boost her confidence and show her what is right, not just wrong). Then, giving her an idea - whatever she was thinking, watching, listening to at that time, she tapped into something more like the actual character, and she could do it again. And telling her what the problem is, at least with this, that people don't want a cardboard cutout muse, they want the one they like from the fandom book/show/movie.

No need to actually compare with another active mun and muse, or tell her that it's because what she's doing is terribly and driving you nuts. Even if both are true.

If she's the one that compares herself to another blog this time, seize the opportunity!

"Well, people like that the muse is developed and like the character they know. When you interact with another canon, don't you want them to be like the character you liked? You liked -current muse- for a reason. When I've felt like that, I reminded myself of why I was drawn to the character and worked harder on writing them accurately and getting their voice down. I think this other blog has done that and you haven't yet."

It's a little harsher, but she may very well only be looking for validation from you that this other blog actually sucks and she's doing great. A lot of complaints on tumblr are that - seeking validation, not help. The entire culture of that shit is not at all helpful. You don't want to try to sort of shock her out of it by being too harsh, but you do want to make it clear that you're not going to just give ass pats and tell her what she wants to hear.

You're telling her why this other blog is more successful, that the muse comes off as the character and is enjoyable to write with. Because the mun put in the effort to make them both accurate to the character and a muse that's fun/interesting/engaging to write with in RP.*

*Not all characters transfer over well to RP, either, and this might also be some of her problem. For whatever reason, some people are deeply drawn to the worst possible choices for them. They will find the least applicable character in a whole series, one with a billion characters that spans decades of material, plenty of viable options all around, but no, it's got to be this one. The one that's impossible for them to pull off, boring or disliked by the fandom, is incredibly difficult to interact with (think manic pixie bullshit, villains that are extreme loners, incredibly quiet and reserved characters, or those who are only ever seen in their canon to be bantering with friends and enemies - people they have established relationships with, unlike someone else's muse, even if that muse is a canonical friend or enemy), or is an active turn off in RP, like an outrageously overpowered character whose entire existence is based on being OP as fuck. That's going to be what they go for. Every. Damn. Time.

If you notice she's doing this, she could be compensating without even realizing it by turning the string of muses into identical and empty clichés she thinks people want to interact with, but that she can still handle writing. And unfortunately, your job is even harder, OP, because everyone has a character type...and your bestie's is Fucking Impossible to RP for 90% of the RPC Population Type lmao I'm...I'm so sorry.

Maybe if this is the case, you can get her to try out a different character that has some of the traits you've noticed she seems to always be drawn to, but without the complications. Work smarter, not harder, though! Propose this as you desperately wanting your muse to interact with x. Some people react very badly to being told "you'd write a great -muse name," others are flattered by it. If you don't know for certain that she'd be flattered, or at least not offended, that she doesn't hate this character or anything, do not say this. Just tell her that you love this character, you think she could handle them as a NPC in a thread, could she please try?

And make that the single most interesting thread in the history of threads. Specifically, for her. Give her tons of engagement with this NPC of the sort she tends to want the most. It might stick and reset some of her perspective on the types of characters she keeps choosing.

You're reminding her that she's a RPer, too, which sounds like a crazy thing to have to remind a RPer, but we do weirdly lose track of this. We get very invested in what we're putting out more than what we've successfully been given, especially when we're not being given much of what we want. So, you're prodding her to recall that there are two parts of this equation, she's been on the side of it - she's wanted to interact specifically with a canon muse because she loved the character/ship with hers/whatever, and has, as we all have, experienced both the disappointment of running through a ton of them who just are not that character and also finding the version that very much is.

This helps to put other people back into perspective in a way that isn't just "interactions." (Read as "desired attention." Which isn't a slam, it's true. It's also not a problem, we all are here to interact, we all enjoy having devoted mutuals and such. It's only a problem when we stop seeing them as anything other than a means to an end for ourselves.) She might be able to relate to them, thus, why they don't like her muses, if she can put herself back into their shoes.

You stick with that and transition it into why she picked the current muse. It's the same deal, there was something about the muse that sparked interest, creativity, etc. What was it? Something that isn't there, or there enough, in her writing. In all the excitement of muse-creation, she's probably let whatever it was slide right out the door. If you can get her to recall that feeling of interest and identify for herself what all triggered it, she might be able to stick with it.

And you've encouraged her again to give people what they want if she wants interactions by developing her muses. You've also done so, if it all applicable and true, by using yourself here, making it feel like not just a common problem, but one experienced and overcome by someone she cares about and trusts.

She might have an issue with needing a lot of high-interest, high-reward scenarios, too.

This is a high-effort, minimum reward situation for her. A lot of us in the RPC have shit like ADHD that can really make this difficult once we're experiencing it in this way, but even those who don't absolutely fall into it as well. So, you'll need ways to make it fun, but...I think if you can sort of kindly trick her into experiencing the effort as its own reward, it'd go a long, long way.

I can't really say what I do, having this problem with high-effort, minimal reward because I don't tend to experience that in RP. The writing is the reward for me, as much as I lose it utterly with happiness every time a writing partner is loving what I've given them. My reward system is set up around the writing and exploring characters. Hers seems to be set up around the reaction to it and amount of engagement with it. You need to try to use the latter to give her some of the former.

If she likes Halloween or Christmas, Fall or Winter, this could be your way into doing it!

Get her hyped about a seasonal prompt list you're doing. This does, yeah, mean you will have to do it, too lol but in the end, any time you aren't able to produce something daily like these lists usually are set up for, you're showing her that it isn't a job she's got to fulfill - the rules are only as strict as she wants to make them for herself. And if you keep yours short and fun, she'll feel like it's perfectly fine and good to do it this way as well. That it doesn't need to be a damn masterpiece or anything, just fun, something different to show off her muse.

While what she's actually doing, in addition to that, is getting in touch with and developing her muse. Importantly, when we write in a way that is just for ourselves like this, we tend to kind of...bond, for lack of a less weird sounding way of putting it, with a muse. It makes them stick with us longer, raising their importance and easier availability to us.

Let her know you're doing this, pick one out you genuinely like, and don't expect her to be down with it immediately. It's work with no foreseeable reward. Except, it's very hard to listen to our friends be excited, proud of themselves, enjoying themselves without wanting to join in. It'll be especially helpful, though, if you think people you interact with will like the posts and comment on them, or even try to turn them into threads if you include their muses (with their consent, of course, and no pressure). If she sees that, it might make it even more interesting to her. You might also have to pose this as her helping you out, that you don't think you'll get more than two done if she isn't doing it as well, as a sort of a challenge she can hold you to.

Whatever you think might work best for engaging her, you know her well, you can do it!

Be there to help her out with ideas if she goes for it. Throw out some easy, fun suggestions you think she might like, that even give her some opportunity to write something with her muse that she doesn't get a chance to. Pull from the muse's canon, is there something in their canon that goes with the prompt word "snow," for instance? Is it something she enjoyed about the canon story? Suggest it. Thinking about both the muse and your friend, is there something else that came to mind about that prompt you could suggest? Do it!

Again, whatever she's most into, it's an angle. Humor? Her serious muse is forced into a ridiculous, funny situation that involves the snow. Angst? A sad memory associated with the snow. Shipping? A romantic, fluffy scene (or steamy one). And so on.

Be there to express interest and encouragement while she's doing it. Don't do things that are going to come off as pressuring or helicopter moming her, of course! Like, asking how much she's gotten done, did she start working on it yet? That's a bad idea, unless she enjoys that sort of thing. Instead, tell her how much you can't wait to see this, ask about how it's going, tell her about yours to encourage her to talk about it.

And be there to be her audience when she posts it. This really seems to be her highest reward, so give it to her. Like the post, comment on the post, tell her in messages. Not individually, all of those things. If you can find a way to that doesn't mess up what you've got going on with your blog, mutuals, other friends, etc., mention it on your blog.

At this point, people might be both aware of her RP habits and wary of engaging with her, but someone might bite if you're enthused and go like the post. If it's applicable, make some jokes about it on the dash, turn it into a moment of inside joke-like crack for people to see. Mention that she wrote this and you loved it, link it or outright reblog her post. Hell, mention that you and her are doing such and such prompts for whatever holiday or season before the fact, that way, it doesn't come out of nowhere to your mutuals, either. Again, if applicable, you can ask to turn it into a thread.

The point, at this juncture, isn't to attract people to her blog and posts, it's to demonstrate to her that this is fun and rewarding. If you can get people to go like the posts, great, but you can only count on yourself to do it at first.

Most people enjoy those sorts of prompts on their dash from mutuals, though. You're always going to have some who feel like it's annoying because it wasn't strictly a RP reply, but whatever, they're not the majority in most fandoms anymore, thankfully. Point is, it's literally showing her mutuals that she's capable of thinking as her muse and working on her muse. It's showing off good things and making her muse more interesting and uniquely hers in a good way. And it's totally possible that she's going to organically generate likes, people wanting to use this as a plot with her for RP, and mutuals who are increasingly following along with every post made.

The hope is that she experiences the beginnings of more interest in the muse than she does making muses, gain some confidence in doing this with the enjoyment of it, and stick with a muse longer than five seconds so that she can actually end up with the interactions she wants.

There are definitely other ways of doing this, the prompt thing just came to mind because it's major prompt season. You've got a prompt list floating around for literally every popular point of interest right now, from whump to extreme fluff to horror to humor. And it's going to keep going until January. It's also something that can be as short as a paragraph or as long as several thousand words, and that a hell of a lot of people don't do all of. So, it's easy, so long as she's got a reason to find it interesting and stay on course with it even a little bit.

You could also try getting her into doing something like moodboards for her muse but with little additions of writing that go along with them. Nothing major, just things like a quote from her muse or a sentence from a starter, thread, whatever.

So long as you can get her to start refocusing on RP being enjoyable from the inside and not just the outside, it's valid as hell to try it! She seems to be experiencing RP as instant gratification and basing that gratification on things she can't control, like popularity.

Right now, even giving her the sober truth that one can write the best version of a canon muse there is to be found, be someone enjoyable and interesting in OOC interactions, and be an amazing writer without that being enough to garner popularity, or even the plots that are wanted. That being a very popular RPer and having more interactions than you know what to do with (honestly sucks ass) isn't a set of absolute values, but rather, variables that are always in flux and often, totally mysterious. It's usually a mixture of total luck, visual appeal, and both mun being on point with what people want to see right this second and muse being the mixture of fanon that is desirable, also, right at this exact second. It is seriously not within anyone's control, no matter how much effort, quality, or even outright bullshit they have to put out there.

If she's ever going to stick to a muse and not find herself envious, upset, and bored it's absolutely got to come from herself. She's got to be popular with herself, enjoying herself regardless of what others are seemingly achieving or want to give her. It's not going to be recognized no matter how harsh or sweet you are about the problem, unless she's capable of really looking at those problems as problems, and I don't think she's going to get to that point through negatively bottoming out. She might get there through the opposite, though!

It's...just going to take a lot of effort and patience from you, with no expectation of reward yourself.

Because it's still likely as hell it's just not going to happen. And while it seems like you are the kind of friend who would find the effort worth it because you care and are invested in her, please know that there's no shame in merely contemplating this and noping right out.

You've got a life and are trying to enjoy the hobby as well! And if it seems like something that could sour your friendship? It's not worth it. You're better off just accepting that she'll inevitably tire of doing this and move on to another hobby, maybe decide to do fandom blogs or something instead that you can support her in.

It's definitely an unenviable and frustrating position you're in. All you can really do is try not to let this negatively impact the friendship, to keep refraining from just outright telling her things she'd find hurtful, and try your best to show her that it's rewarding to develop the muse and stick with it, not a task. That there are improvements she can make to her blog, and that it isn't a negative reflection on her that they can be made. You can try all the compassionate trickery in the world to lead her there, but it's ultimately up to her whether she brushes this off as well, don't let it hurt your feelings or exasperate you too much!

Also, it's totally possible that even if you met through RP and/or it has been a big part of the friendship, you might have grown in different directions in the hobby.

Growing within the hobby is inherent to any hobby you stick to for long enough, especially if you started out in it young. Some people seamlessly just keep growing to things that make them happy, others experience a lot of growing pains along the way as they're maybe ready for change, but only in select areas they have to discover for themselves. Still others grow in a way that doesn't make them very happy, but they're both not ready (or willing) to approach why and what they can do, and also still too attached to the good times they had to reassess whether it's still something they want to do, or if it's something better moved away from into something else.

That's always very difficult as a friend. Difficult in watching your friends not go the same directions as you anymore, even in something as comparatively silly as a hobby, in seeing them not enjoying themselves, and in the possibility that it could signal the end of enjoying the hobby with them. It's sad and frustrating, and can feel lonely, but if you're close enough friends, you've got so many other things to still be good friends over, so keep that in mind!

She might need to keep doing this with her blog and muse situation until she comes not to the realization that she needs to change how she's RPing to get what she wants, but rather, that she wants to stop RPing. That could be the burnout that happens here eventually, but again, not only can you still be great friends, if it makes her happier, it's good.

#answered #anonymous #rp problems #rp advice

3 notes · View notes

jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Room for Three

Mark X Pregnant Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Genre: Fluff with a hint of angst

Summary: You and your husband Mark were currently shopping for baby furniture to prepare for the arrival of your baby when you stumble upon a pregnancy pillow that you’re so eager to have. However, Mark voices his opinion about how he’s not too fond of the idea and it is in that moment that you find out his concerns goes beyond just a piece of furniture.

A/N: I get inspired by the most randomest things and so I was on instagram scrolling through my explorer and then I saw a husband talking about how his wife bought a body pillow and how it took his place and now I’m sad because WHY AM I NOT MARRIED anyways please enjoy

“Here it is. This is the one all the other ladies were talking about in class the other day. Can you get the blue one for me babe?”

Your husband looked at the body pillow then back at you in disbelief. “Wait, what? You’re actually buying this thing? Where is it going to go?” You returned back a look of confusion before crossing your arms indifferently.

“Uh, where else? On the bed with us.”

“Babe, there’s not going to be enough room on the bed for the two of us this thing is huge—“

“Well so am I! And whose fault is that?” You were currently six months pregnant with your first child and trying to fall asleep with your basketball sized baby bump was not the easiest thing to do. Both you and Mark attended a pregnancy class last week and your teacher recommended purchasing a body pillow.

You did your research on where you could find one; not wanting to wait a week for it to come in the mail and that is how you and your Husband found yourselves at an IKEA just fifteen minutes away from your house. The two of you were currently walking around, looking at the different types of furniture you’d want to put in the nursery when you just so happened to stumble on a box filled with multiple body pillows specifically for pregnant women. You couldn’t help but get excited at the idea of finally getting some well deserved rest but seeing Mark’s negative reaction was beginning to ruin the mood.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But you’re at fault here too, I mean look at you! You’re so beautiful baby, and extremely fucking sexy. And now that you’re pregnant, you’re even more gorgeous. I didn’t think it was possible. You glow differently now that you’re pregnant. You’re also a little bit more crankier and extremely spoiled—ow! And abusive. I honestly can’t wait for our little bub to arrive. Not only am I excited to finally meet our baby, but I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe you’re so grumpy because we haven’t been intimate in months. It’s my turn to be inside of you—y/n, slap me one more time and I’m going to do the same to your cute little butt.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment before taking matters in to your own hands and reaching out for one of the pillows. Mark however, was quick to stop you; not wanting you to drain your energy on any physical activity unless you really had to. Pregnancy was such a beautiful experience so far. The two of you have been wanting a child together for quite some time and when you got the news that you were pregnant only four months after your wedding, you and Mark were over the moon.

Mark in more or less words was the perfect husband. He never failed to show you as much as he told you on a daily basis just how much he loved you. When you gave him the news that you were pregnant, he actually cried tears of happiness. Even before the two of you began dating, Mark made it aware that he loved children. He had three extremely adorable nieces and watching the way he would interact with them only made you excited at the idea of starting a family with the love of your life. With the way he would take care of the girls as if they were his own and how he never failed to make them laugh, you knew he would be such an amazing father when the time comes.

Mark was already very attentive and doting whenever it came to you. However, he became clingier the moment you became pregnant. Whatever you needed, he’d get it for you before you could even ask. He was aware that pregnancy was a very tiring and frustrating process, so he wanted to be able to help you if and whenever he could. Although you hated having to bother him, especially because you knew he was probably tired from work; he made it clear that you weren’t going to go through this journey alone and you were extremely grateful and blessed to be able to call him your husband.

You apologized many times for certain things that came with pregnancy; mood swings, weird cravings and your tendency to use the bathroom at the most inconvenient times of the day. There were many occasions were your husband found himself at a McDonald’s drive thru at two in the morning because you were craving a sausage McMuffin and when he did the grocery shopping, he knew to purchase multiple pints of ice cream because you craved a different flavor every single day.

Nothing ever seemed to bother Mark whenever it came to tending to your needs and even if there was something, he was good at not showing it. Unfortunately, this was the first time he seemed hesitant on doing something to help you. You made it known how hard it was for you to fall asleep for the last few weeks because your bump only grew bigger and bigger as the days went by. Mark was quick to agree with taking you to look at the different kinds of pillows there were to accommodate you once class was over, but you were too tired to go out that day.

He was willing to purchase anything in order to make you more comfortable; but he didn’t think the pillow would be that big. Sure, the two of you shared a California king sized bed, but you already took up more than half of the bed with your growing belly to the point where Mark found himself on the floor a few times. If you were to get the pillow, he’d probably have to sleep on the couch.

“Baby, you don’t need this pillow, you have me! I’m warm and I smell better than this thing. And as a bonus, I can actually hold you against my body—Aw come on, don’t look at me like that. You know exactly what your puppy dog eyes do to me—damnit y/n where am I going to sleep then?!”

“Mark, this pillow will be wrapped around me. It’s not as bad as you probably think it is. Don’t you want me to feel at ease? I’ve been so tired these days because I keep tossing and turning in my sleep; trying to find the right position where my bump isn’t in the way.” After releasing a frustrated sigh, your husband made his way toward you and found his place behind you, gently pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around your belly. He left a soft kiss in the crook of your neck before placing his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m being an ass aren’t I? I just—I already can’t hold you in the ways that I used to. I can’t make love to you, I can’t kiss you unless you allow me to because of the hormones. I miss you. I miss being intimate with you and I miss when we could do things together without having to worry about harming you and the baby. Wow, saying it out loud makes me sound so pathetic. Like, I’m jealous of our baby. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy to be having a baby with you. I’ve always dreamt of starting a family with you y/n. It’s just—I thought we would have a little more time to ourselves. You know what? Forget I said anything. Let’s get the pillow and then we can go—“

“Mark.”

Once you turned to face him and saw the upset expression on his face, you couldn’t help but tear up. Hearing him talk about how he felt neglected make your heart hurt. Your husband did any and everything he could to make sure you were comfortable. He did things for you without being asked and not once did he complain. You didn’t even realize how much you’ve been taking advantage of his kindness and focusing more on your baby than you were on him. You felt like a monster.

“Baby I’m so sorry—“ he shook his head before playfully squeezing your cheek and wiped away a tear that fell.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just being silly.” Your brows furrowed in frustration at the thought of how selfish you were being. Sure, you were pregnant and it was a lot to take in; but you were also a wife. Mark deserved love and attention too. How could you be so blind and not see the pain you were putting your husband through?

“No, you’re not being silly—you’re being human. I’m sorry. I’ve been so focused on the pregnancy and what I need that I failed to notice what I was doing to you by pushing you away and mistreating you. There’s no excuse for my behavior. But I hope you know I’m very grateful for every single thing you’ve done for me and continue to do for me. I really don’t deserve you. If I’m being honest, I feel the exact way. I miss you too. So much. I’m sorry for being grumpy and emotional all the time. And I’m sorry for my bipolar mood swings. You’re wonderful you know that? You’re the best husband a girl could ask for. I’ll try to be better okay? For your sake. I love you Mark. I don’t think you understand just how much but I plan on spending the rest of my life both showing you and telling you every single day.”

With the way he was looking at you with so much love and adoration after hearing your heartfelt apology, you were sure your heart was about to combust. Mark leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“I hope you know that I’m practically going to cling myself to you like a sloth once you start sleeping with this pillow.” You giggled softly before nodding in understanding. He picked up the pillow and placed it in the cart before taking his place behind you as you began walking away. “By the way y/n, I remember your teacher talking about how sex during pregnancy is actually very good for the baby. So maybe once we get out of here, you can show me just how much you love and appreciate me.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

63 notes · View notes