BnHA/MHA
Demon Slayer
Main @madam-mem (wbk, genshin, hsr, kn8)
Last edited on August 22nd, 2025
Cosmic Funnies
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS

@theartofmadeline
One Nice Bug Per Day
đȘŒ
AnasAbdin
todays bird

Kiana Khansmith

if i look back, i am lost

ç„æ„ / Permanent Vacation

tannertan36
occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz

Love Begins
Misplaced Lens Cap
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@birinboom
BnHA/MHA
Demon Slayer
Main @madam-mem (wbk, genshin, hsr, kn8)
Last edited on August 22nd, 2025
Gilded Might
Yagi Toshinori x fem!Reader Word count: 4.026 words Summary: When Toshinori -your neighbor, your friend, your childhood crush- suddenly moves abroad without warning, you fear him lost to you forever. A chance meeting almost a decade later rekindles both your friendship and your old feelings for him. Tags: Childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers (phew!), very light angst, budding romance ((I just want to make it abundantly clear that they are both adults once any romance happens! Reader, as the youngest, is in her early/mid 20s)) Note: Requested by @justmewoo. Iâm so terribly sorry for how long it took to get out!! I hope youâre still here to enjoy it đ
It was late March when your family moved into the apartment next to Toshinoriâs. He showed up next to the moving truck, introducing himself and offering a hand with unloading. You peeked at him from behind your mom. He was already tall back then, even if he was only in his final year of middle school. And he would soon grow even taller.
Your mom made some polite small talk with him, then asked about his parents.Â
Toshinori rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. âOh, I, uh⊠I live alone. My parents, they⊠passed away some time ago.â
âOh.â Your mom was flabbergasted at this news. âOh, dear, Iâm so sorry! IâŠâ
Toshinori gave her a disarming smile. âItâs alright, you couldnât possibly have known.â
In the following years you never really found out if your mom felt sorry for Toshinori in some way, or if she felt some form of responsibility to the teenager next door, living all by himself. But she began inviting him over for dinner most nights, and Toshinori slowly became a part of your family. Youâre pretty sure he saw you and your parents as some form of family too. And your mother soon trusted him enough to ask him to keep an eye on you in the afternoons while your parents worked.
The two of you quickly became friends. Your mom often referred to you as being âthick as thieves.â You spent your afternoons together doing homework, playing games, being silly; and you quickly developed a crush on him.Â
ââYouâre standing in an open field west of a house with a boarded front door.ââ You quoted the opening of your favorite game from memory. ââThere is a mailbox here.â Toshi, do you remember whatâs in the mailbox?â
Toshinori, walking next to you, chuckled. âYou really do love that game. How many times have we played it by now? Three?â
âToshi! The mailbox, do you remember whatâs in it?â
He cleared his throat, which made you squeal with glee that he was playing along. ââOpening the mailbox reveals a leaflet,ââ he quoted.Â
âDo the bit, Toshi! What does the leaflet say??â
He lowered his voice to a growl. ââWELCOME TO ZORK.ââ
You jumped, pumping your fist in the air. âYeah!! Can we play it again soon?â
Toshinori smiled at you, that soft smile which you had grown so fond of in the past few months. âSure. Letâs play it soon. We should be able to finish it before summer break ends.â
You nodded happily. Turning off the shopping street, the two of you entered the supermarket.Â
âSo,â Toshinori said, pulling a list out of his pocket. âYour mom needs mackerel, cabbage, potatoes, milk, and bread. And a treat for us for the trouble.â
âWe get a treat?â Your eyes were blazing.Â
âYeah! Says so right here!âÂ
He handed you the grocery list. Reading it, you frowned.Â
âThat last part isnât my momâs handwriting⊠Itâs yours.â
Toshinori grinned at you. âAlright, you got me, I want a sweet treat. And I donât mind sharing. What do you think, an ice pop?â
You tore through the store, gathering the groceries your mom needed in record speed, the promise of getting treated to something sweet by Toshinori spurring you on. You finally stopped in front of the freezer, looking over all the choices.
âHow about this one?â Toshinori asked, picking out a soda-flavored double popsicle.Â
You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling embarrassed. When he said that he didnât mind sharing, you hadnât imagined that you would literally be splitting a treat. For some reason, the thought of it made your mouth dry.Â
âY-yeah,â you forced out. âLooks good.â
Toshinori paid for the groceries, adding a few coins of his own to the money your mom had given him. Once outside, he unwrapped the popsicle. Grabbing hold of the two sticks, he pulled, splitting the popsicle perfectly down the middle.Â
âHere you go!â
You took the proffered treat with shaking hands. Sticking it in your mouth, you tried to savor the sweet flavor as the two of you began walking home.
The Colors of Twilight
Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Word count: 5,247 words Summary: Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side tea shop, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerieâs Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Genre: Fantasy!AU, fluff, romance Warnings: Mentions of food, a recounted story of death by faerie magic, some minor angst, kissing Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ Also, I'm posting this a bit early but it's already the 28th in Japan so whatevs. Happy birthday Ojiro!
Ever since you were little, your head had been filled with stories about the wild magic of the countryside. Faeries sleeping in flower meadows, dragons flying overhead, briefly blocking out the sun with their wings, trolls lumbering through the vast forests. Your parents always insisted that every single word was true! Once you became an adult, you could only scoff at such childish ideas.
But even if the wild magic wasn't real, you still held on to your childhood dream of moving to the countryside. The fast-paced life of the capital was wearing on you. It might be too romantic an idea, but you longed to wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than shrill cries of street vendors. To be able to sit in a quiet cottage garden, sipping tea and chatting with your neighbors, rather than being hollered and cursed at if you slowed your pace even the tiniest bit. And if you happened to spot a faery or two - well, that would just be an added bonus.
One day, you decided to take the plunge. You quit your tearoom job, sold nearly everything you owned and purchased an old but fully furnished tavern -which youâd decided to turn into your very own tea shop- in a village called Faerieâs Brook. The name certainly sounded promising. And the village was located on the main thoroughfare leading to the country of Tiria, so your little tea shop ought to have plenty of customers.
You knew youâd miss the city, miss the convenience of the capital, miss walking down to the harbor to watch the ashen waves of the Cinder Sea, the smell of salt and seaweed pulling at your nose. Youâd miss the convenience of the shops around you, being able to order things like jam and garnish for the tearoom sandwiches rather than making everything yourself. And it would no doubt be difficult at first to be away from your family; even if you had lived on your own for a couple of years now, they had always been nearby, ready to help if you needed it. Once you moved, it would take at least a couple of hours with a stagecoach to reach you.
You shook your head firmly. This had been your dream for so long. And you wouldnât let something as fickle as convenience stop you, not even if you had to make your own jam!
You peered up at the sun-bleached sign above the door to your new home, squinting as you tried to read the faded letters. It was no use; the sign might as well be blank. Shrugging, you sat on the wide doorstep, searching through your bags. If the sign was as good as blank, it meant that you could reuse it - it looked about big enough to fit the name youâd picked for your tea shop. Now, where had you put the key?
Pausing your search for a moment, you let your gaze glide over the quiet main street, lined with little shops. Just from where you sat, you could see a milliner, a flower shop, a bakery - the scents from the latter was making your empty stomach rumble. You needed to stop by soon and see if you could get a deal on sandwich bread for your tea shop.
Every single storefront had wicker baskets filled with flowers placed next to the door, yours included. Leaning over, you inspected the basket which held a colorful assortment of crocuses and pansies. You frowned. Pansies in mid-April were normal, but it seemed much too late for crocuses. Shrugging, your gaze moved from the flowers to the flower shop right across the street. Surely these flowers were just a particularly late-blooming variety, or a different flower altogether, nothing more than that. Still, it wouldnât hurt to ask the florist. And you wanted to thank them for keeping the flower baskets alive while your soon-to-be tea shop had been sitting empty.
As you watched, the door to the flower shop opened and a puppy was let out into the street. It sniffed the cobblestone for a moment before it abruptly stopped, its head whipping around to look at you. You couldnât help but smile at the little, honey-colored fluff ball. And you couldnât hold back your laughter when the puppy began yipping happily as it galloped towards you, stubby little front paws thrown high and wide with each leap.Â
Stretching out your hand, you offered it to the puppy. The puppy, however, ignored your hand, instead trying to climb onto the doorstep, hind paws scratching against the stone. You lifted the puppy onto the doorstep next to you, then scratched it behind one soft ear. It wasnât enough; the puppy clambered onto your lap, then tried to lick your face.Â
âHe really likes you.â
You looked towards the unfamiliar voice, arms full of wiggling, ecstatic puppy. A man -the florist, you assumed- was leaning against the open door of the flower shop, a soft smile on his face. His sleek, golden hair looked as soft as the fur under your fingertips. Black eyes crinkled at the corners. Crossed arms making the biceps peeking out from underneath his short-sleeved shirt pop. Your face burned; you didnât even know his name, and yet you couldnât help but feel affected by his good looks. Smiling back at him, you tried your best to keep your blush in check.
Taking in your neighborâs features had made you let down your guard. The puppy seized his chance, licking your chin. It jolted you back to reality.
The man let out a chuckle. âAmaranth is always very curious about strangers, but heâs rarely this excited.â Pushing off the doorframe, he crossed the street, extending a hand. âIâm Mashirao Ojiro.â
Pinning the puppy to your lap with one arm, you grabbed Mashiraoâs hand and shook it, introducing yourself.
âAmaranth,â you mumbled, scratching the puppy behind an ear. âThatâs an interesting name for a dog.â
âHe picked it himself.â
You looked up at Mashirao, trying to gauge whether he was joking. âWhat do you mean?â
Mashirao shrugged. âHe started speaking shortly after I got him. Told me that thatâs the name heâs chosen for himself.â
You raised your eyebrows at him. âHe⊠speaks to you?â
Mashirao seated himself next to you, trying to coax Amaranth onto his own lap. Amaranth, however, turned his rear to Mashirao, settling in for a nap. Mashirao chuckled, then looked at you again. He gave you a soft, genuine smile. âYouâre not from around here I take it?â
You tilted your head, trying to prompt him to explain what not being a local had to do with anything.
âThings are different out here,â he explained. âAmaranth is not like the dogs you know. Heâs a distant descendant of dragons.â
You could barely contain the derisive laughter that bubbled up through your chest. âOh, really?â
Mashirao nodded earnestly. âHeâs a dragon pup. The faeries told me that his wings will start to grow soon.â
âFaeries?â you asked incredulously.
Mashirao laughed. âYes, faeries. They inhabit the fields outside town.â He nodded his head towards the far end of the main street. âThey offered me some of their magic so I can grow my flowers. Thatâs how I can make crocuses bloom this late in the season.â Gesturing to the puppy on your lap, he added, âAnd they entrusted Amaranthâs care to me.â
Pulling the sleeping Amaranth closer, you began getting up, drawing in a deep breath to tell him off for lying to you, when you spotted something moving next to him. It made you sink back onto your rear, breath leaving your lungs.
âYou have a tailâŠâ you said stupidly.
Mashirao laughed again. âYou have a lot to get used to.â
You just looked at him for a moment. âHow come things are so different out here?â
âYouâre aware that Faerieâs Brook is close to the border to Tiria, right?â he asked.
You nodded silently.
âI donât know if this is common knowledge in the bigger cities, but Tiria is known for its abundant wild magic. It has allowed human magic to flourish, too. Iâve heard that thereâs a university for mages in Sun City. The wild magic has spread past the borders for the past couple of centuries. The countryside along the border is seeped in magic; we might have as much as Tiria at this point. Creatures from the wild side thrive here.â
Pointing to Amaranth, you asked, âThe wild side? So like him? And the faeries you mentioned?â
Mashirao nodded. âThe wild magic has begun to affect the humans here, just like it does in Tiria. I was born with a tail. My mother has one as well but hers started growing after having lived here for a couple of years. Other people develop magic powers. The smith is able to handle red-hot metal without gloves. The baker can make it snow on command; they say having cold hands makes baking easier.â Grinning at you, Mashirao added, âIf you stay here long enough, you might begin to change, too.â
Biting your lip for a moment, you then broached the question on your mind. âIt doesnât bother any of you that youâre⊠different?â
Mashirao hesitated for a moment. âNo offense meant,â he then said, âbut out here youâre the one whoâs different. This is our normal.â Tail twitching, he continued, âWe generally see it as being enhanced by magic. For the majority of us it causes a neutral change in appearance, like a change in eye color. For some the changes are outright beneficial, though those who develop magic need to learn to control it properly. Iâve heard of one person who developed wings strong enough to fly. Itâs very rare that these changes cause an actual problem; at most itâs just temporary growing pains. To me, my tail is just an extra appendage, like an extra arm or leg. I learned to use it as I was learning to walk.âÂ
You watched, unknowingly holding your breath, as Mashirao wrapped his tail around the flower basket and lifted it off the ground with ease.
Exhaling, a wide grin slowly spread across your face. When Mashirao first told you that Amaranth was a dragon pup, youâd thought that he was pulling your leg. But this? This was indisputable. Your parents had been right all along; magic was real!
You looked at Mashirao again, your eyes sparkling. âWill you help me learn about magic? Will you introduce me to the faeries?â
He beamed at you. âItâll be my pleasure!â
The Colors of Twilight
Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Word count: 5,247 words Summary: Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side tea shop, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerieâs Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Genre: Fantasy!AU, fluff, romance Warnings: Mentions of food, a recounted story of death by faerie magic, some minor angst, kissing Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ Also, I'm posting this a bit early but it's already the 28th in Japan so whatevs. Happy birthday Ojiro!
Ever since you were little, your head had been filled with stories about the wild magic of the countryside. Faeries sleeping in flower meadows, dragons flying overhead, briefly blocking out the sun with their wings, trolls lumbering through the vast forests. Your parents always insisted that every single word was true! Once you became an adult, you could only scoff at such childish ideas.
But even if the wild magic wasn't real, you still held on to your childhood dream of moving to the countryside. The fast-paced life of the capital was wearing on you. It might be too romantic an idea, but you longed to wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than shrill cries of street vendors. To be able to sit in a quiet cottage garden, sipping tea and chatting with your neighbors, rather than being hollered and cursed at if you slowed your pace even the tiniest bit. And if you happened to spot a faery or two - well, that would just be an added bonus.
One day, you decided to take the plunge. You quit your tearoom job, sold nearly everything you owned and purchased an old but fully furnished tavern -which youâd decided to turn into your very own tea shop- in a village called Faerieâs Brook. The name certainly sounded promising. And the village was located on the main thoroughfare leading to the country of Tiria, so your little tea shop ought to have plenty of customers.
You knew youâd miss the city, miss the convenience of the capital, miss walking down to the harbor to watch the ashen waves of the Cinder Sea, the smell of salt and seaweed pulling at your nose. Youâd miss the convenience of the shops around you, being able to order things like jam and garnish for the tearoom sandwiches rather than making everything yourself. And it would no doubt be difficult at first to be away from your family; even if you had lived on your own for a couple of years now, they had always been nearby, ready to help if you needed it. Once you moved, it would take at least a couple of hours with a stagecoach to reach you.
You shook your head firmly. This had been your dream for so long. And you wouldnât let something as fickle as convenience stop you, not even if you had to make your own jam!
You peered up at the sun-bleached sign above the door to your new home, squinting as you tried to read the faded letters. It was no use; the sign might as well be blank. Shrugging, you sat on the wide doorstep, searching through your bags. If the sign was as good as blank, it meant that you could reuse it - it looked about big enough to fit the name youâd picked for your tea shop. Now, where had you put the key?
Pausing your search for a moment, you let your gaze glide over the quiet main street, lined with little shops. Just from where you sat, you could see a milliner, a flower shop, a bakery - the scents from the latter was making your empty stomach rumble. You needed to stop by soon and see if you could get a deal on sandwich bread for your tea shop.
Every single storefront had wicker baskets filled with flowers placed next to the door, yours included. Leaning over, you inspected the basket which held a colorful assortment of crocuses and pansies. You frowned. Pansies in mid-April were normal, but it seemed much too late for crocuses. Shrugging, your gaze moved from the flowers to the flower shop right across the street. Surely these flowers were just a particularly late-blooming variety, or a different flower altogether, nothing more than that. Still, it wouldnât hurt to ask the florist. And you wanted to thank them for keeping the flower baskets alive while your soon-to-be tea shop had been sitting empty.
As you watched, the door to the flower shop opened and a puppy was let out into the street. It sniffed the cobblestone for a moment before it abruptly stopped, its head whipping around to look at you. You couldnât help but smile at the little, honey-colored fluff ball. And you couldnât hold back your laughter when the puppy began yipping happily as it galloped towards you, stubby little front paws thrown high and wide with each leap.Â
Stretching out your hand, you offered it to the puppy. The puppy, however, ignored your hand, instead trying to climb onto the doorstep, hind paws scratching against the stone. You lifted the puppy onto the doorstep next to you, then scratched it behind one soft ear. It wasnât enough; the puppy clambered onto your lap, then tried to lick your face.Â
âHe really likes you.â
You looked towards the unfamiliar voice, arms full of wiggling, ecstatic puppy. A man -the florist, you assumed- was leaning against the open door of the flower shop, a soft smile on his face. His sleek, golden hair looked as soft as the fur under your fingertips. Black eyes crinkled at the corners. Crossed arms making the biceps peeking out from underneath his short-sleeved shirt pop. Your face burned; you didnât even know his name, and yet you couldnât help but feel affected by his good looks. Smiling back at him, you tried your best to keep your blush in check.
Taking in your neighborâs features had made you let down your guard. The puppy seized his chance, licking your chin. It jolted you back to reality.
The man let out a chuckle. âAmaranth is always very curious about strangers, but heâs rarely this excited.â Pushing off the doorframe, he crossed the street, extending a hand. âIâm Mashirao Ojiro.â
Pinning the puppy to your lap with one arm, you grabbed Mashiraoâs hand and shook it, introducing yourself.
âAmaranth,â you mumbled, scratching the puppy behind an ear. âThatâs an interesting name for a dog.â
âHe picked it himself.â
You looked up at Mashirao, trying to gauge whether he was joking. âWhat do you mean?â
Mashirao shrugged. âHe started speaking shortly after I got him. Told me that thatâs the name heâs chosen for himself.â
You raised your eyebrows at him. âHe⊠speaks to you?â
Mashirao seated himself next to you, trying to coax Amaranth onto his own lap. Amaranth, however, turned his rear to Mashirao, settling in for a nap. Mashirao chuckled, then looked at you again. He gave you a soft, genuine smile. âYouâre not from around here I take it?â
You tilted your head, trying to prompt him to explain what not being a local had to do with anything.
âThings are different out here,â he explained. âAmaranth is not like the dogs you know. Heâs a distant descendant of dragons.â
You could barely contain the derisive laughter that bubbled up through your chest. âOh, really?â
Mashirao nodded earnestly. âHeâs a dragon pup. The faeries told me that his wings will start to grow soon.â
âFaeries?â you asked incredulously.
Mashirao laughed. âYes, faeries. They inhabit the fields outside town.â He nodded his head towards the far end of the main street. âThey offered me some of their magic so I can grow my flowers. Thatâs how I can make crocuses bloom this late in the season.â Gesturing to the puppy on your lap, he added, âAnd they entrusted Amaranthâs care to me.â
Pulling the sleeping Amaranth closer, you began getting up, drawing in a deep breath to tell him off for lying to you, when you spotted something moving next to him. It made you sink back onto your rear, breath leaving your lungs.
âYou have a tailâŠâ you said stupidly.
Mashirao laughed again. âYou have a lot to get used to.â
You just looked at him for a moment. âHow come things are so different out here?â
âYouâre aware that Faerieâs Brook is close to the border to Tiria, right?â he asked.
You nodded silently.
âI donât know if this is common knowledge in the bigger cities, but Tiria is known for its abundant wild magic. It has allowed human magic to flourish, too. Iâve heard that thereâs a university for mages in Sun City. The wild magic has spread past the borders for the past couple of centuries. The countryside along the border is seeped in magic; we might have as much as Tiria at this point. Creatures from the wild side thrive here.â
Pointing to Amaranth, you asked, âThe wild side? So like him? And the faeries you mentioned?â
Mashirao nodded. âThe wild magic has begun to affect the humans here, just like it does in Tiria. I was born with a tail. My mother has one as well but hers started growing after having lived here for a couple of years. Other people develop magic powers. The smith is able to handle red-hot metal without gloves. The baker can make it snow on command; they say having cold hands makes baking easier.â Grinning at you, Mashirao added, âIf you stay here long enough, you might begin to change, too.â
Biting your lip for a moment, you then broached the question on your mind. âIt doesnât bother any of you that youâre⊠different?â
Mashirao hesitated for a moment. âNo offense meant,â he then said, âbut out here youâre the one whoâs different. This is our normal.â Tail twitching, he continued, âWe generally see it as being enhanced by magic. For the majority of us it causes a neutral change in appearance, like a change in eye color. For some the changes are outright beneficial, though those who develop magic need to learn to control it properly. Iâve heard of one person who developed wings strong enough to fly. Itâs very rare that these changes cause an actual problem; at most itâs just temporary growing pains. To me, my tail is just an extra appendage, like an extra arm or leg. I learned to use it as I was learning to walk.âÂ
You watched, unknowingly holding your breath, as Mashirao wrapped his tail around the flower basket and lifted it off the ground with ease.
Exhaling, a wide grin slowly spread across your face. When Mashirao first told you that Amaranth was a dragon pup, youâd thought that he was pulling your leg. But this? This was indisputable. Your parents had been right all along; magic was real!
You looked at Mashirao again, your eyes sparkling. âWill you help me learn about magic? Will you introduce me to the faeries?â
He beamed at you. âItâll be my pleasure!â
The Colors of Twilight
Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Word count: 5,247 words Summary: Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side tea shop, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerieâs Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Genre: Fantasy!AU, fluff, romance Warnings: Mentions of food, a recounted story of death by faerie magic, some minor angst, kissing Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ Also, I'm posting this a bit early but it's already the 28th in Japan so whatevs. Happy birthday Ojiro!
Ever since you were little, your head had been filled with stories about the wild magic of the countryside. Faeries sleeping in flower meadows, dragons flying overhead, briefly blocking out the sun with their wings, trolls lumbering through the vast forests. Your parents always insisted that every single word was true! Once you became an adult, you could only scoff at such childish ideas.
But even if the wild magic wasn't real, you still held on to your childhood dream of moving to the countryside. The fast-paced life of the capital was wearing on you. It might be too romantic an idea, but you longed to wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than shrill cries of street vendors. To be able to sit in a quiet cottage garden, sipping tea and chatting with your neighbors, rather than being hollered and cursed at if you slowed your pace even the tiniest bit. And if you happened to spot a faery or two - well, that would just be an added bonus.
One day, you decided to take the plunge. You quit your tearoom job, sold nearly everything you owned and purchased an old but fully furnished tavern -which youâd decided to turn into your very own tea shop- in a village called Faerieâs Brook. The name certainly sounded promising. And the village was located on the main thoroughfare leading to the country of Tiria, so your little tea shop ought to have plenty of customers.
You knew youâd miss the city, miss the convenience of the capital, miss walking down to the harbor to watch the ashen waves of the Cinder Sea, the smell of salt and seaweed pulling at your nose. Youâd miss the convenience of the shops around you, being able to order things like jam and garnish for the tearoom sandwiches rather than making everything yourself. And it would no doubt be difficult at first to be away from your family; even if you had lived on your own for a couple of years now, they had always been nearby, ready to help if you needed it. Once you moved, it would take at least a couple of hours with a stagecoach to reach you.
You shook your head firmly. This had been your dream for so long. And you wouldnât let something as fickle as convenience stop you, not even if you had to make your own jam!
You peered up at the sun-bleached sign above the door to your new home, squinting as you tried to read the faded letters. It was no use; the sign might as well be blank. Shrugging, you sat on the wide doorstep, searching through your bags. If the sign was as good as blank, it meant that you could reuse it - it looked about big enough to fit the name youâd picked for your tea shop. Now, where had you put the key?
Pausing your search for a moment, you let your gaze glide over the quiet main street, lined with little shops. Just from where you sat, you could see a milliner, a flower shop, a bakery - the scents from the latter was making your empty stomach rumble. You needed to stop by soon and see if you could get a deal on sandwich bread for your tea shop.
Every single storefront had wicker baskets filled with flowers placed next to the door, yours included. Leaning over, you inspected the basket which held a colorful assortment of crocuses and pansies. You frowned. Pansies in mid-April were normal, but it seemed much too late for crocuses. Shrugging, your gaze moved from the flowers to the flower shop right across the street. Surely these flowers were just a particularly late-blooming variety, or a different flower altogether, nothing more than that. Still, it wouldnât hurt to ask the florist. And you wanted to thank them for keeping the flower baskets alive while your soon-to-be tea shop had been sitting empty.
As you watched, the door to the flower shop opened and a puppy was let out into the street. It sniffed the cobblestone for a moment before it abruptly stopped, its head whipping around to look at you. You couldnât help but smile at the little, honey-colored fluff ball. And you couldnât hold back your laughter when the puppy began yipping happily as it galloped towards you, stubby little front paws thrown high and wide with each leap.Â
Stretching out your hand, you offered it to the puppy. The puppy, however, ignored your hand, instead trying to climb onto the doorstep, hind paws scratching against the stone. You lifted the puppy onto the doorstep next to you, then scratched it behind one soft ear. It wasnât enough; the puppy clambered onto your lap, then tried to lick your face.Â
âHe really likes you.â
You looked towards the unfamiliar voice, arms full of wiggling, ecstatic puppy. A man -the florist, you assumed- was leaning against the open door of the flower shop, a soft smile on his face. His sleek, golden hair looked as soft as the fur under your fingertips. Black eyes crinkled at the corners. Crossed arms making the biceps peeking out from underneath his short-sleeved shirt pop. Your face burned; you didnât even know his name, and yet you couldnât help but feel affected by his good looks. Smiling back at him, you tried your best to keep your blush in check.
Taking in your neighborâs features had made you let down your guard. The puppy seized his chance, licking your chin. It jolted you back to reality.
The man let out a chuckle. âAmaranth is always very curious about strangers, but heâs rarely this excited.â Pushing off the doorframe, he crossed the street, extending a hand. âIâm Mashirao Ojiro.â
Pinning the puppy to your lap with one arm, you grabbed Mashiraoâs hand and shook it, introducing yourself.
âAmaranth,â you mumbled, scratching the puppy behind an ear. âThatâs an interesting name for a dog.â
âHe picked it himself.â
You looked up at Mashirao, trying to gauge whether he was joking. âWhat do you mean?â
Mashirao shrugged. âHe started speaking shortly after I got him. Told me that thatâs the name heâs chosen for himself.â
You raised your eyebrows at him. âHe⊠speaks to you?â
Mashirao seated himself next to you, trying to coax Amaranth onto his own lap. Amaranth, however, turned his rear to Mashirao, settling in for a nap. Mashirao chuckled, then looked at you again. He gave you a soft, genuine smile. âYouâre not from around here I take it?â
You tilted your head, trying to prompt him to explain what not being a local had to do with anything.
âThings are different out here,â he explained. âAmaranth is not like the dogs you know. Heâs a distant descendant of dragons.â
You could barely contain the derisive laughter that bubbled up through your chest. âOh, really?â
Mashirao nodded earnestly. âHeâs a dragon pup. The faeries told me that his wings will start to grow soon.â
âFaeries?â you asked incredulously.
Mashirao laughed. âYes, faeries. They inhabit the fields outside town.â He nodded his head towards the far end of the main street. âThey offered me some of their magic so I can grow my flowers. Thatâs how I can make crocuses bloom this late in the season.â Gesturing to the puppy on your lap, he added, âAnd they entrusted Amaranthâs care to me.â
Pulling the sleeping Amaranth closer, you began getting up, drawing in a deep breath to tell him off for lying to you, when you spotted something moving next to him. It made you sink back onto your rear, breath leaving your lungs.
âYou have a tailâŠâ you said stupidly.
Mashirao laughed again. âYou have a lot to get used to.â
You just looked at him for a moment. âHow come things are so different out here?â
âYouâre aware that Faerieâs Brook is close to the border to Tiria, right?â he asked.
You nodded silently.
âI donât know if this is common knowledge in the bigger cities, but Tiria is known for its abundant wild magic. It has allowed human magic to flourish, too. Iâve heard that thereâs a university for mages in Sun City. The wild magic has spread past the borders for the past couple of centuries. The countryside along the border is seeped in magic; we might have as much as Tiria at this point. Creatures from the wild side thrive here.â
Pointing to Amaranth, you asked, âThe wild side? So like him? And the faeries you mentioned?â
Mashirao nodded. âThe wild magic has begun to affect the humans here, just like it does in Tiria. I was born with a tail. My mother has one as well but hers started growing after having lived here for a couple of years. Other people develop magic powers. The smith is able to handle red-hot metal without gloves. The baker can make it snow on command; they say having cold hands makes baking easier.â Grinning at you, Mashirao added, âIf you stay here long enough, you might begin to change, too.â
Biting your lip for a moment, you then broached the question on your mind. âIt doesnât bother any of you that youâre⊠different?â
Mashirao hesitated for a moment. âNo offense meant,â he then said, âbut out here youâre the one whoâs different. This is our normal.â Tail twitching, he continued, âWe generally see it as being enhanced by magic. For the majority of us it causes a neutral change in appearance, like a change in eye color. For some the changes are outright beneficial, though those who develop magic need to learn to control it properly. Iâve heard of one person who developed wings strong enough to fly. Itâs very rare that these changes cause an actual problem; at most itâs just temporary growing pains. To me, my tail is just an extra appendage, like an extra arm or leg. I learned to use it as I was learning to walk.âÂ
You watched, unknowingly holding your breath, as Mashirao wrapped his tail around the flower basket and lifted it off the ground with ease.
Exhaling, a wide grin slowly spread across your face. When Mashirao first told you that Amaranth was a dragon pup, youâd thought that he was pulling your leg. But this? This was indisputable. Your parents had been right all along; magic was real!
You looked at Mashirao again, your eyes sparkling. âWill you help me learn about magic? Will you introduce me to the faeries?â
He beamed at you. âItâll be my pleasure!â
The Colors of Twilight
Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Word count: 5,247 words Summary: Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side tea shop, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerieâs Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Genre: Fantasy!AU, fluff, romance Warnings: Mentions of food, a recounted story of death by faerie magic, some minor angst, kissing Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ Also, I'm posting this a bit early but it's already the 28th in Japan so whatevs. Happy birthday Ojiro!
Ever since you were little, your head had been filled with stories about the wild magic of the countryside. Faeries sleeping in flower meadows, dragons flying overhead, briefly blocking out the sun with their wings, trolls lumbering through the vast forests. Your parents always insisted that every single word was true! Once you became an adult, you could only scoff at such childish ideas.
But even if the wild magic wasn't real, you still held on to your childhood dream of moving to the countryside. The fast-paced life of the capital was wearing on you. It might be too romantic an idea, but you longed to wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than shrill cries of street vendors. To be able to sit in a quiet cottage garden, sipping tea and chatting with your neighbors, rather than being hollered and cursed at if you slowed your pace even the tiniest bit. And if you happened to spot a faery or two - well, that would just be an added bonus.
One day, you decided to take the plunge. You quit your tearoom job, sold nearly everything you owned and purchased an old but fully furnished tavern -which youâd decided to turn into your very own tea shop- in a village called Faerieâs Brook. The name certainly sounded promising. And the village was located on the main thoroughfare leading to the country of Tiria, so your little tea shop ought to have plenty of customers.
You knew youâd miss the city, miss the convenience of the capital, miss walking down to the harbor to watch the ashen waves of the Cinder Sea, the smell of salt and seaweed pulling at your nose. Youâd miss the convenience of the shops around you, being able to order things like jam and garnish for the tearoom sandwiches rather than making everything yourself. And it would no doubt be difficult at first to be away from your family; even if you had lived on your own for a couple of years now, they had always been nearby, ready to help if you needed it. Once you moved, it would take at least a couple of hours with a stagecoach to reach you.
You shook your head firmly. This had been your dream for so long. And you wouldnât let something as fickle as convenience stop you, not even if you had to make your own jam!
You peered up at the sun-bleached sign above the door to your new home, squinting as you tried to read the faded letters. It was no use; the sign might as well be blank. Shrugging, you sat on the wide doorstep, searching through your bags. If the sign was as good as blank, it meant that you could reuse it - it looked about big enough to fit the name youâd picked for your tea shop. Now, where had you put the key?
Pausing your search for a moment, you let your gaze glide over the quiet main street, lined with little shops. Just from where you sat, you could see a milliner, a flower shop, a bakery - the scents from the latter was making your empty stomach rumble. You needed to stop by soon and see if you could get a deal on sandwich bread for your tea shop.
Every single storefront had wicker baskets filled with flowers placed next to the door, yours included. Leaning over, you inspected the basket which held a colorful assortment of crocuses and pansies. You frowned. Pansies in mid-April were normal, but it seemed much too late for crocuses. Shrugging, your gaze moved from the flowers to the flower shop right across the street. Surely these flowers were just a particularly late-blooming variety, or a different flower altogether, nothing more than that. Still, it wouldnât hurt to ask the florist. And you wanted to thank them for keeping the flower baskets alive while your soon-to-be tea shop had been sitting empty.
As you watched, the door to the flower shop opened and a puppy was let out into the street. It sniffed the cobblestone for a moment before it abruptly stopped, its head whipping around to look at you. You couldnât help but smile at the little, honey-colored fluff ball. And you couldnât hold back your laughter when the puppy began yipping happily as it galloped towards you, stubby little front paws thrown high and wide with each leap.Â
Stretching out your hand, you offered it to the puppy. The puppy, however, ignored your hand, instead trying to climb onto the doorstep, hind paws scratching against the stone. You lifted the puppy onto the doorstep next to you, then scratched it behind one soft ear. It wasnât enough; the puppy clambered onto your lap, then tried to lick your face.Â
âHe really likes you.â
You looked towards the unfamiliar voice, arms full of wiggling, ecstatic puppy. A man -the florist, you assumed- was leaning against the open door of the flower shop, a soft smile on his face. His sleek, golden hair looked as soft as the fur under your fingertips. Black eyes crinkled at the corners. Crossed arms making the biceps peeking out from underneath his short-sleeved shirt pop. Your face burned; you didnât even know his name, and yet you couldnât help but feel affected by his good looks. Smiling back at him, you tried your best to keep your blush in check.
Taking in your neighborâs features had made you let down your guard. The puppy seized his chance, licking your chin. It jolted you back to reality.
The man let out a chuckle. âAmaranth is always very curious about strangers, but heâs rarely this excited.â Pushing off the doorframe, he crossed the street, extending a hand. âIâm Mashirao Ojiro.â
Pinning the puppy to your lap with one arm, you grabbed Mashiraoâs hand and shook it, introducing yourself.
âAmaranth,â you mumbled, scratching the puppy behind an ear. âThatâs an interesting name for a dog.â
âHe picked it himself.â
You looked up at Mashirao, trying to gauge whether he was joking. âWhat do you mean?â
Mashirao shrugged. âHe started speaking shortly after I got him. Told me that thatâs the name heâs chosen for himself.â
You raised your eyebrows at him. âHe⊠speaks to you?â
Mashirao seated himself next to you, trying to coax Amaranth onto his own lap. Amaranth, however, turned his rear to Mashirao, settling in for a nap. Mashirao chuckled, then looked at you again. He gave you a soft, genuine smile. âYouâre not from around here I take it?â
You tilted your head, trying to prompt him to explain what not being a local had to do with anything.
âThings are different out here,â he explained. âAmaranth is not like the dogs you know. Heâs a distant descendant of dragons.â
You could barely contain the derisive laughter that bubbled up through your chest. âOh, really?â
Mashirao nodded earnestly. âHeâs a dragon pup. The faeries told me that his wings will start to grow soon.â
âFaeries?â you asked incredulously.
Mashirao laughed. âYes, faeries. They inhabit the fields outside town.â He nodded his head towards the far end of the main street. âThey offered me some of their magic so I can grow my flowers. Thatâs how I can make crocuses bloom this late in the season.â Gesturing to the puppy on your lap, he added, âAnd they entrusted Amaranthâs care to me.â
Pulling the sleeping Amaranth closer, you began getting up, drawing in a deep breath to tell him off for lying to you, when you spotted something moving next to him. It made you sink back onto your rear, breath leaving your lungs.
âYou have a tailâŠâ you said stupidly.
Mashirao laughed again. âYou have a lot to get used to.â
You just looked at him for a moment. âHow come things are so different out here?â
âYouâre aware that Faerieâs Brook is close to the border to Tiria, right?â he asked.
You nodded silently.
âI donât know if this is common knowledge in the bigger cities, but Tiria is known for its abundant wild magic. It has allowed human magic to flourish, too. Iâve heard that thereâs a university for mages in Sun City. The wild magic has spread past the borders for the past couple of centuries. The countryside along the border is seeped in magic; we might have as much as Tiria at this point. Creatures from the wild side thrive here.â
Pointing to Amaranth, you asked, âThe wild side? So like him? And the faeries you mentioned?â
Mashirao nodded. âThe wild magic has begun to affect the humans here, just like it does in Tiria. I was born with a tail. My mother has one as well but hers started growing after having lived here for a couple of years. Other people develop magic powers. The smith is able to handle red-hot metal without gloves. The baker can make it snow on command; they say having cold hands makes baking easier.â Grinning at you, Mashirao added, âIf you stay here long enough, you might begin to change, too.â
Biting your lip for a moment, you then broached the question on your mind. âIt doesnât bother any of you that youâre⊠different?â
Mashirao hesitated for a moment. âNo offense meant,â he then said, âbut out here youâre the one whoâs different. This is our normal.â Tail twitching, he continued, âWe generally see it as being enhanced by magic. For the majority of us it causes a neutral change in appearance, like a change in eye color. For some the changes are outright beneficial, though those who develop magic need to learn to control it properly. Iâve heard of one person who developed wings strong enough to fly. Itâs very rare that these changes cause an actual problem; at most itâs just temporary growing pains. To me, my tail is just an extra appendage, like an extra arm or leg. I learned to use it as I was learning to walk.âÂ
You watched, unknowingly holding your breath, as Mashirao wrapped his tail around the flower basket and lifted it off the ground with ease.
Exhaling, a wide grin slowly spread across your face. When Mashirao first told you that Amaranth was a dragon pup, youâd thought that he was pulling your leg. But this? This was indisputable. Your parents had been right all along; magic was real!
You looked at Mashirao again, your eyes sparkling. âWill you help me learn about magic? Will you introduce me to the faeries?â
He beamed at you. âItâll be my pleasure!â
The Colors of Twilight
Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Word count: 5,247 words Summary: Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side tea shop, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerieâs Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Genre: Fantasy!AU, fluff, romance Warnings: Mentions of food, a recounted story of death by faerie magic, some minor angst, kissing Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ Also, I'm posting this a bit early but it's already the 28th in Japan so whatevs. Happy birthday Ojiro!
Ever since you were little, your head had been filled with stories about the wild magic of the countryside. Faeries sleeping in flower meadows, dragons flying overhead, briefly blocking out the sun with their wings, trolls lumbering through the vast forests. Your parents always insisted that every single word was true! Once you became an adult, you could only scoff at such childish ideas.
But even if the wild magic wasn't real, you still held on to your childhood dream of moving to the countryside. The fast-paced life of the capital was wearing on you. It might be too romantic an idea, but you longed to wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than shrill cries of street vendors. To be able to sit in a quiet cottage garden, sipping tea and chatting with your neighbors, rather than being hollered and cursed at if you slowed your pace even the tiniest bit. And if you happened to spot a faery or two - well, that would just be an added bonus.
One day, you decided to take the plunge. You quit your tearoom job, sold nearly everything you owned and purchased an old but fully furnished tavern -which youâd decided to turn into your very own tea shop- in a village called Faerieâs Brook. The name certainly sounded promising. And the village was located on the main thoroughfare leading to the country of Tiria, so your little tea shop ought to have plenty of customers.
You knew youâd miss the city, miss the convenience of the capital, miss walking down to the harbor to watch the ashen waves of the Cinder Sea, the smell of salt and seaweed pulling at your nose. Youâd miss the convenience of the shops around you, being able to order things like jam and garnish for the tearoom sandwiches rather than making everything yourself. And it would no doubt be difficult at first to be away from your family; even if you had lived on your own for a couple of years now, they had always been nearby, ready to help if you needed it. Once you moved, it would take at least a couple of hours with a stagecoach to reach you.
You shook your head firmly. This had been your dream for so long. And you wouldnât let something as fickle as convenience stop you, not even if you had to make your own jam!
You peered up at the sun-bleached sign above the door to your new home, squinting as you tried to read the faded letters. It was no use; the sign might as well be blank. Shrugging, you sat on the wide doorstep, searching through your bags. If the sign was as good as blank, it meant that you could reuse it - it looked about big enough to fit the name youâd picked for your tea shop. Now, where had you put the key?
Pausing your search for a moment, you let your gaze glide over the quiet main street, lined with little shops. Just from where you sat, you could see a milliner, a flower shop, a bakery - the scents from the latter was making your empty stomach rumble. You needed to stop by soon and see if you could get a deal on sandwich bread for your tea shop.
Every single storefront had wicker baskets filled with flowers placed next to the door, yours included. Leaning over, you inspected the basket which held a colorful assortment of crocuses and pansies. You frowned. Pansies in mid-April were normal, but it seemed much too late for crocuses. Shrugging, your gaze moved from the flowers to the flower shop right across the street. Surely these flowers were just a particularly late-blooming variety, or a different flower altogether, nothing more than that. Still, it wouldnât hurt to ask the florist. And you wanted to thank them for keeping the flower baskets alive while your soon-to-be tea shop had been sitting empty.
As you watched, the door to the flower shop opened and a puppy was let out into the street. It sniffed the cobblestone for a moment before it abruptly stopped, its head whipping around to look at you. You couldnât help but smile at the little, honey-colored fluff ball. And you couldnât hold back your laughter when the puppy began yipping happily as it galloped towards you, stubby little front paws thrown high and wide with each leap.Â
Stretching out your hand, you offered it to the puppy. The puppy, however, ignored your hand, instead trying to climb onto the doorstep, hind paws scratching against the stone. You lifted the puppy onto the doorstep next to you, then scratched it behind one soft ear. It wasnât enough; the puppy clambered onto your lap, then tried to lick your face.Â
âHe really likes you.â
You looked towards the unfamiliar voice, arms full of wiggling, ecstatic puppy. A man -the florist, you assumed- was leaning against the open door of the flower shop, a soft smile on his face. His sleek, golden hair looked as soft as the fur under your fingertips. Black eyes crinkled at the corners. Crossed arms making the biceps peeking out from underneath his short-sleeved shirt pop. Your face burned; you didnât even know his name, and yet you couldnât help but feel affected by his good looks. Smiling back at him, you tried your best to keep your blush in check.
Taking in your neighborâs features had made you let down your guard. The puppy seized his chance, licking your chin. It jolted you back to reality.
The man let out a chuckle. âAmaranth is always very curious about strangers, but heâs rarely this excited.â Pushing off the doorframe, he crossed the street, extending a hand. âIâm Mashirao Ojiro.â
Pinning the puppy to your lap with one arm, you grabbed Mashiraoâs hand and shook it, introducing yourself.
âAmaranth,â you mumbled, scratching the puppy behind an ear. âThatâs an interesting name for a dog.â
âHe picked it himself.â
You looked up at Mashirao, trying to gauge whether he was joking. âWhat do you mean?â
Mashirao shrugged. âHe started speaking shortly after I got him. Told me that thatâs the name heâs chosen for himself.â
You raised your eyebrows at him. âHe⊠speaks to you?â
Mashirao seated himself next to you, trying to coax Amaranth onto his own lap. Amaranth, however, turned his rear to Mashirao, settling in for a nap. Mashirao chuckled, then looked at you again. He gave you a soft, genuine smile. âYouâre not from around here I take it?â
You tilted your head, trying to prompt him to explain what not being a local had to do with anything.
âThings are different out here,â he explained. âAmaranth is not like the dogs you know. Heâs a distant descendant of dragons.â
You could barely contain the derisive laughter that bubbled up through your chest. âOh, really?â
Mashirao nodded earnestly. âHeâs a dragon pup. The faeries told me that his wings will start to grow soon.â
âFaeries?â you asked incredulously.
Mashirao laughed. âYes, faeries. They inhabit the fields outside town.â He nodded his head towards the far end of the main street. âThey offered me some of their magic so I can grow my flowers. Thatâs how I can make crocuses bloom this late in the season.â Gesturing to the puppy on your lap, he added, âAnd they entrusted Amaranthâs care to me.â
Pulling the sleeping Amaranth closer, you began getting up, drawing in a deep breath to tell him off for lying to you, when you spotted something moving next to him. It made you sink back onto your rear, breath leaving your lungs.
âYou have a tailâŠâ you said stupidly.
Mashirao laughed again. âYou have a lot to get used to.â
You just looked at him for a moment. âHow come things are so different out here?â
âYouâre aware that Faerieâs Brook is close to the border to Tiria, right?â he asked.
You nodded silently.
âI donât know if this is common knowledge in the bigger cities, but Tiria is known for its abundant wild magic. It has allowed human magic to flourish, too. Iâve heard that thereâs a university for mages in Sun City. The wild magic has spread past the borders for the past couple of centuries. The countryside along the border is seeped in magic; we might have as much as Tiria at this point. Creatures from the wild side thrive here.â
Pointing to Amaranth, you asked, âThe wild side? So like him? And the faeries you mentioned?â
Mashirao nodded. âThe wild magic has begun to affect the humans here, just like it does in Tiria. I was born with a tail. My mother has one as well but hers started growing after having lived here for a couple of years. Other people develop magic powers. The smith is able to handle red-hot metal without gloves. The baker can make it snow on command; they say having cold hands makes baking easier.â Grinning at you, Mashirao added, âIf you stay here long enough, you might begin to change, too.â
Biting your lip for a moment, you then broached the question on your mind. âIt doesnât bother any of you that youâre⊠different?â
Mashirao hesitated for a moment. âNo offense meant,â he then said, âbut out here youâre the one whoâs different. This is our normal.â Tail twitching, he continued, âWe generally see it as being enhanced by magic. For the majority of us it causes a neutral change in appearance, like a change in eye color. For some the changes are outright beneficial, though those who develop magic need to learn to control it properly. Iâve heard of one person who developed wings strong enough to fly. Itâs very rare that these changes cause an actual problem; at most itâs just temporary growing pains. To me, my tail is just an extra appendage, like an extra arm or leg. I learned to use it as I was learning to walk.âÂ
You watched, unknowingly holding your breath, as Mashirao wrapped his tail around the flower basket and lifted it off the ground with ease.
Exhaling, a wide grin slowly spread across your face. When Mashirao first told you that Amaranth was a dragon pup, youâd thought that he was pulling your leg. But this? This was indisputable. Your parents had been right all along; magic was real!
You looked at Mashirao again, your eyes sparkling. âWill you help me learn about magic? Will you introduce me to the faeries?â
He beamed at you. âItâll be my pleasure!â
The Colors of Twilight
Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Word count: 5,247 words Summary: Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side tea shop, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerieâs Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Genre: Fantasy!AU, fluff, romance Warnings: Mentions of food, a recounted story of death by faerie magic, some minor angst, kissing Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ Also, I'm posting this a bit early but it's already the 28th in Japan so whatevs. Happy birthday Ojiro!
Ever since you were little, your head had been filled with stories about the wild magic of the countryside. Faeries sleeping in flower meadows, dragons flying overhead, briefly blocking out the sun with their wings, trolls lumbering through the vast forests. Your parents always insisted that every single word was true! Once you became an adult, you could only scoff at such childish ideas.
But even if the wild magic wasn't real, you still held on to your childhood dream of moving to the countryside. The fast-paced life of the capital was wearing on you. It might be too romantic an idea, but you longed to wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than shrill cries of street vendors. To be able to sit in a quiet cottage garden, sipping tea and chatting with your neighbors, rather than being hollered and cursed at if you slowed your pace even the tiniest bit. And if you happened to spot a faery or two - well, that would just be an added bonus.
One day, you decided to take the plunge. You quit your tearoom job, sold nearly everything you owned and purchased an old but fully furnished tavern -which youâd decided to turn into your very own tea shop- in a village called Faerieâs Brook. The name certainly sounded promising. And the village was located on the main thoroughfare leading to the country of Tiria, so your little tea shop ought to have plenty of customers.
You knew youâd miss the city, miss the convenience of the capital, miss walking down to the harbor to watch the ashen waves of the Cinder Sea, the smell of salt and seaweed pulling at your nose. Youâd miss the convenience of the shops around you, being able to order things like jam and garnish for the tearoom sandwiches rather than making everything yourself. And it would no doubt be difficult at first to be away from your family; even if you had lived on your own for a couple of years now, they had always been nearby, ready to help if you needed it. Once you moved, it would take at least a couple of hours with a stagecoach to reach you.
You shook your head firmly. This had been your dream for so long. And you wouldnât let something as fickle as convenience stop you, not even if you had to make your own jam!
You peered up at the sun-bleached sign above the door to your new home, squinting as you tried to read the faded letters. It was no use; the sign might as well be blank. Shrugging, you sat on the wide doorstep, searching through your bags. If the sign was as good as blank, it meant that you could reuse it - it looked about big enough to fit the name youâd picked for your tea shop. Now, where had you put the key?
Pausing your search for a moment, you let your gaze glide over the quiet main street, lined with little shops. Just from where you sat, you could see a milliner, a flower shop, a bakery - the scents from the latter was making your empty stomach rumble. You needed to stop by soon and see if you could get a deal on sandwich bread for your tea shop.
Every single storefront had wicker baskets filled with flowers placed next to the door, yours included. Leaning over, you inspected the basket which held a colorful assortment of crocuses and pansies. You frowned. Pansies in mid-April were normal, but it seemed much too late for crocuses. Shrugging, your gaze moved from the flowers to the flower shop right across the street. Surely these flowers were just a particularly late-blooming variety, or a different flower altogether, nothing more than that. Still, it wouldnât hurt to ask the florist. And you wanted to thank them for keeping the flower baskets alive while your soon-to-be tea shop had been sitting empty.
As you watched, the door to the flower shop opened and a puppy was let out into the street. It sniffed the cobblestone for a moment before it abruptly stopped, its head whipping around to look at you. You couldnât help but smile at the little, honey-colored fluff ball. And you couldnât hold back your laughter when the puppy began yipping happily as it galloped towards you, stubby little front paws thrown high and wide with each leap.Â
Stretching out your hand, you offered it to the puppy. The puppy, however, ignored your hand, instead trying to climb onto the doorstep, hind paws scratching against the stone. You lifted the puppy onto the doorstep next to you, then scratched it behind one soft ear. It wasnât enough; the puppy clambered onto your lap, then tried to lick your face.Â
âHe really likes you.â
You looked towards the unfamiliar voice, arms full of wiggling, ecstatic puppy. A man -the florist, you assumed- was leaning against the open door of the flower shop, a soft smile on his face. His sleek, golden hair looked as soft as the fur under your fingertips. Black eyes crinkled at the corners. Crossed arms making the biceps peeking out from underneath his short-sleeved shirt pop. Your face burned; you didnât even know his name, and yet you couldnât help but feel affected by his good looks. Smiling back at him, you tried your best to keep your blush in check.
Taking in your neighborâs features had made you let down your guard. The puppy seized his chance, licking your chin. It jolted you back to reality.
The man let out a chuckle. âAmaranth is always very curious about strangers, but heâs rarely this excited.â Pushing off the doorframe, he crossed the street, extending a hand. âIâm Mashirao Ojiro.â
Pinning the puppy to your lap with one arm, you grabbed Mashiraoâs hand and shook it, introducing yourself.
âAmaranth,â you mumbled, scratching the puppy behind an ear. âThatâs an interesting name for a dog.â
âHe picked it himself.â
You looked up at Mashirao, trying to gauge whether he was joking. âWhat do you mean?â
Mashirao shrugged. âHe started speaking shortly after I got him. Told me that thatâs the name heâs chosen for himself.â
You raised your eyebrows at him. âHe⊠speaks to you?â
Mashirao seated himself next to you, trying to coax Amaranth onto his own lap. Amaranth, however, turned his rear to Mashirao, settling in for a nap. Mashirao chuckled, then looked at you again. He gave you a soft, genuine smile. âYouâre not from around here I take it?â
You tilted your head, trying to prompt him to explain what not being a local had to do with anything.
âThings are different out here,â he explained. âAmaranth is not like the dogs you know. Heâs a distant descendant of dragons.â
You could barely contain the derisive laughter that bubbled up through your chest. âOh, really?â
Mashirao nodded earnestly. âHeâs a dragon pup. The faeries told me that his wings will start to grow soon.â
âFaeries?â you asked incredulously.
Mashirao laughed. âYes, faeries. They inhabit the fields outside town.â He nodded his head towards the far end of the main street. âThey offered me some of their magic so I can grow my flowers. Thatâs how I can make crocuses bloom this late in the season.â Gesturing to the puppy on your lap, he added, âAnd they entrusted Amaranthâs care to me.â
Pulling the sleeping Amaranth closer, you began getting up, drawing in a deep breath to tell him off for lying to you, when you spotted something moving next to him. It made you sink back onto your rear, breath leaving your lungs.
âYou have a tailâŠâ you said stupidly.
Mashirao laughed again. âYou have a lot to get used to.â
You just looked at him for a moment. âHow come things are so different out here?â
âYouâre aware that Faerieâs Brook is close to the border to Tiria, right?â he asked.
You nodded silently.
âI donât know if this is common knowledge in the bigger cities, but Tiria is known for its abundant wild magic. It has allowed human magic to flourish, too. Iâve heard that thereâs a university for mages in Sun City. The wild magic has spread past the borders for the past couple of centuries. The countryside along the border is seeped in magic; we might have as much as Tiria at this point. Creatures from the wild side thrive here.â
Pointing to Amaranth, you asked, âThe wild side? So like him? And the faeries you mentioned?â
Mashirao nodded. âThe wild magic has begun to affect the humans here, just like it does in Tiria. I was born with a tail. My mother has one as well but hers started growing after having lived here for a couple of years. Other people develop magic powers. The smith is able to handle red-hot metal without gloves. The baker can make it snow on command; they say having cold hands makes baking easier.â Grinning at you, Mashirao added, âIf you stay here long enough, you might begin to change, too.â
Biting your lip for a moment, you then broached the question on your mind. âIt doesnât bother any of you that youâre⊠different?â
Mashirao hesitated for a moment. âNo offense meant,â he then said, âbut out here youâre the one whoâs different. This is our normal.â Tail twitching, he continued, âWe generally see it as being enhanced by magic. For the majority of us it causes a neutral change in appearance, like a change in eye color. For some the changes are outright beneficial, though those who develop magic need to learn to control it properly. Iâve heard of one person who developed wings strong enough to fly. Itâs very rare that these changes cause an actual problem; at most itâs just temporary growing pains. To me, my tail is just an extra appendage, like an extra arm or leg. I learned to use it as I was learning to walk.âÂ
You watched, unknowingly holding your breath, as Mashirao wrapped his tail around the flower basket and lifted it off the ground with ease.
Exhaling, a wide grin slowly spread across your face. When Mashirao first told you that Amaranth was a dragon pup, youâd thought that he was pulling your leg. But this? This was indisputable. Your parents had been right all along; magic was real!
You looked at Mashirao again, your eyes sparkling. âWill you help me learn about magic? Will you introduce me to the faeries?â
He beamed at you. âItâll be my pleasure!â
The Colors of Twilight
Ojiro Mashirao x Fem!Reader Word count: 5,247 words Summary: Dreaming of getting away from the city and opening up a country-side tea shop, you decide to sell most of your possessions and move to the village of Faerieâs Brook. However, you would never have expected that the stories about the magical creatures of the countryside were actually real. Genre: Fantasy!AU, fluff, romance Warnings: Mentions of food, a recounted story of death by faerie magic, some minor angst, kissing Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ Also, I'm posting this a bit early but it's already the 28th in Japan so whatevs. Happy birthday Ojiro!
Ever since you were little, your head had been filled with stories about the wild magic of the countryside. Faeries sleeping in flower meadows, dragons flying overhead, briefly blocking out the sun with their wings, trolls lumbering through the vast forests. Your parents always insisted that every single word was true! Once you became an adult, you could only scoff at such childish ideas.
But even if the wild magic wasn't real, you still held on to your childhood dream of moving to the countryside. The fast-paced life of the capital was wearing on you. It might be too romantic an idea, but you longed to wake up to the sound of birdsong rather than shrill cries of street vendors. To be able to sit in a quiet cottage garden, sipping tea and chatting with your neighbors, rather than being hollered and cursed at if you slowed your pace even the tiniest bit. And if you happened to spot a faery or two - well, that would just be an added bonus.
One day, you decided to take the plunge. You quit your tearoom job, sold nearly everything you owned and purchased an old but fully furnished tavern -which youâd decided to turn into your very own tea shop- in a village called Faerieâs Brook. The name certainly sounded promising. And the village was located on the main thoroughfare leading to the country of Tiria, so your little tea shop ought to have plenty of customers.
You knew youâd miss the city, miss the convenience of the capital, miss walking down to the harbor to watch the ashen waves of the Cinder Sea, the smell of salt and seaweed pulling at your nose. Youâd miss the convenience of the shops around you, being able to order things like jam and garnish for the tearoom sandwiches rather than making everything yourself. And it would no doubt be difficult at first to be away from your family; even if you had lived on your own for a couple of years now, they had always been nearby, ready to help if you needed it. Once you moved, it would take at least a couple of hours with a stagecoach to reach you.
You shook your head firmly. This had been your dream for so long. And you wouldnât let something as fickle as convenience stop you, not even if you had to make your own jam!
You peered up at the sun-bleached sign above the door to your new home, squinting as you tried to read the faded letters. It was no use; the sign might as well be blank. Shrugging, you sat on the wide doorstep, searching through your bags. If the sign was as good as blank, it meant that you could reuse it - it looked about big enough to fit the name youâd picked for your tea shop. Now, where had you put the key?
Pausing your search for a moment, you let your gaze glide over the quiet main street, lined with little shops. Just from where you sat, you could see a milliner, a flower shop, a bakery - the scents from the latter was making your empty stomach rumble. You needed to stop by soon and see if you could get a deal on sandwich bread for your tea shop.
Every single storefront had wicker baskets filled with flowers placed next to the door, yours included. Leaning over, you inspected the basket which held a colorful assortment of crocuses and pansies. You frowned. Pansies in mid-April were normal, but it seemed much too late for crocuses. Shrugging, your gaze moved from the flowers to the flower shop right across the street. Surely these flowers were just a particularly late-blooming variety, or a different flower altogether, nothing more than that. Still, it wouldnât hurt to ask the florist. And you wanted to thank them for keeping the flower baskets alive while your soon-to-be tea shop had been sitting empty.
As you watched, the door to the flower shop opened and a puppy was let out into the street. It sniffed the cobblestone for a moment before it abruptly stopped, its head whipping around to look at you. You couldnât help but smile at the little, honey-colored fluff ball. And you couldnât hold back your laughter when the puppy began yipping happily as it galloped towards you, stubby little front paws thrown high and wide with each leap.Â
Stretching out your hand, you offered it to the puppy. The puppy, however, ignored your hand, instead trying to climb onto the doorstep, hind paws scratching against the stone. You lifted the puppy onto the doorstep next to you, then scratched it behind one soft ear. It wasnât enough; the puppy clambered onto your lap, then tried to lick your face.Â
âHe really likes you.â
You looked towards the unfamiliar voice, arms full of wiggling, ecstatic puppy. A man -the florist, you assumed- was leaning against the open door of the flower shop, a soft smile on his face. His sleek, golden hair looked as soft as the fur under your fingertips. Black eyes crinkled at the corners. Crossed arms making the biceps peeking out from underneath his short-sleeved shirt pop. Your face burned; you didnât even know his name, and yet you couldnât help but feel affected by his good looks. Smiling back at him, you tried your best to keep your blush in check.
Taking in your neighborâs features had made you let down your guard. The puppy seized his chance, licking your chin. It jolted you back to reality.
The man let out a chuckle. âAmaranth is always very curious about strangers, but heâs rarely this excited.â Pushing off the doorframe, he crossed the street, extending a hand. âIâm Mashirao Ojiro.â
Pinning the puppy to your lap with one arm, you grabbed Mashiraoâs hand and shook it, introducing yourself.
âAmaranth,â you mumbled, scratching the puppy behind an ear. âThatâs an interesting name for a dog.â
âHe picked it himself.â
You looked up at Mashirao, trying to gauge whether he was joking. âWhat do you mean?â
Mashirao shrugged. âHe started speaking shortly after I got him. Told me that thatâs the name heâs chosen for himself.â
You raised your eyebrows at him. âHe⊠speaks to you?â
Mashirao seated himself next to you, trying to coax Amaranth onto his own lap. Amaranth, however, turned his rear to Mashirao, settling in for a nap. Mashirao chuckled, then looked at you again. He gave you a soft, genuine smile. âYouâre not from around here I take it?â
You tilted your head, trying to prompt him to explain what not being a local had to do with anything.
âThings are different out here,â he explained. âAmaranth is not like the dogs you know. Heâs a distant descendant of dragons.â
You could barely contain the derisive laughter that bubbled up through your chest. âOh, really?â
Mashirao nodded earnestly. âHeâs a dragon pup. The faeries told me that his wings will start to grow soon.â
âFaeries?â you asked incredulously.
Mashirao laughed. âYes, faeries. They inhabit the fields outside town.â He nodded his head towards the far end of the main street. âThey offered me some of their magic so I can grow my flowers. Thatâs how I can make crocuses bloom this late in the season.â Gesturing to the puppy on your lap, he added, âAnd they entrusted Amaranthâs care to me.â
Pulling the sleeping Amaranth closer, you began getting up, drawing in a deep breath to tell him off for lying to you, when you spotted something moving next to him. It made you sink back onto your rear, breath leaving your lungs.
âYou have a tailâŠâ you said stupidly.
Mashirao laughed again. âYou have a lot to get used to.â
You just looked at him for a moment. âHow come things are so different out here?â
âYouâre aware that Faerieâs Brook is close to the border to Tiria, right?â he asked.
You nodded silently.
âI donât know if this is common knowledge in the bigger cities, but Tiria is known for its abundant wild magic. It has allowed human magic to flourish, too. Iâve heard that thereâs a university for mages in Sun City. The wild magic has spread past the borders for the past couple of centuries. The countryside along the border is seeped in magic; we might have as much as Tiria at this point. Creatures from the wild side thrive here.â
Pointing to Amaranth, you asked, âThe wild side? So like him? And the faeries you mentioned?â
Mashirao nodded. âThe wild magic has begun to affect the humans here, just like it does in Tiria. I was born with a tail. My mother has one as well but hers started growing after having lived here for a couple of years. Other people develop magic powers. The smith is able to handle red-hot metal without gloves. The baker can make it snow on command; they say having cold hands makes baking easier.â Grinning at you, Mashirao added, âIf you stay here long enough, you might begin to change, too.â
Biting your lip for a moment, you then broached the question on your mind. âIt doesnât bother any of you that youâre⊠different?â
Mashirao hesitated for a moment. âNo offense meant,â he then said, âbut out here youâre the one whoâs different. This is our normal.â Tail twitching, he continued, âWe generally see it as being enhanced by magic. For the majority of us it causes a neutral change in appearance, like a change in eye color. For some the changes are outright beneficial, though those who develop magic need to learn to control it properly. Iâve heard of one person who developed wings strong enough to fly. Itâs very rare that these changes cause an actual problem; at most itâs just temporary growing pains. To me, my tail is just an extra appendage, like an extra arm or leg. I learned to use it as I was learning to walk.âÂ
You watched, unknowingly holding your breath, as Mashirao wrapped his tail around the flower basket and lifted it off the ground with ease.
Exhaling, a wide grin slowly spread across your face. When Mashirao first told you that Amaranth was a dragon pup, youâd thought that he was pulling your leg. But this? This was indisputable. Your parents had been right all along; magic was real!
You looked at Mashirao again, your eyes sparkling. âWill you help me learn about magic? Will you introduce me to the faeries?â
He beamed at you. âItâll be my pleasure!â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6,336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â
My Roommate and I
Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Word count: 6,336 words Summary: You donât know your roommate all that well. Heâs fine as roommates go, cleans up after himself, bills paid on time. But he isnât around enough for you to actually get to know him. Things begin to change when the pandemic forces both of you to stay at home and your social butterfly of a roommate loses IRL access to his friends. Genre: Quirkless AU, roommates to lovers, pandemic fic, forced proximity, domestic fluff, romance Warning: mention of past Kiri-Mina, food/eating, swearing, alcohol, Eijiro calls Reader âbabeâ Note: This fic is a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! đđđ
The first time you meet Eijiro, you could only describe him as big and bright. Big and bright smile, big and bright personality, big stature in a bright outfit, big and bright hair. You wonder briefly if his hair is dyed and whether he dyes it himself. Then you shrug. The two of you have separate bathrooms so if he leaves red dye streaks everywhere, thatâs his own problem. He can take it up with the landlord when he eventually moves out.
Youâre happy, though, that he agreed to meet up with you before moving in. You'd be a bit freaked out seeing a stranger in your home, even if you knew that heâd be moving in. And this makes it easier to sit down with him early on to go over some general rules and a chore chart for the common areas.
It turns out that Eijiroâs a pretty decent roommate. He keeps his clutter out of the kitchen and living room, he cleans his assigned areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of this, you think, is probably attributed to him only really using his room for sleep. You rarely see him outside of early mornings when you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever a guy like him does, only coming home long after you've retired to your own room.
You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.
Time passes. You count yourself lucky, hearing some of your friendsâ horror stories about their roommates from hell.Â
Then the pandemic lockdowns happen.
Youâre fortunate that youâre able to do your job remotely. Eijiro, however, is fired; he tells you so in passing. But he quickly adds that heâll get by on unemployment until he finds another job, so no need to worry!
You're honestly surprised that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he unfortunately doesn't, which means that youâre now stuck with him constantly at home. And you learn yet another aspect of his personality: just how frustratingly loud he can be. He cranks the volume on video calls with his friends -to the point where you can hear their voices clearly through his headphones- and he laughs boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down with a sheepish âwhoops, my roomie got madâ when you poke your head out of your room to scowl at him, it still frustrates you to no end. You still have work for goodnessâ sake!Â
You soon come to realize that Eijiroâs very existence is loud, even when heâs not yapping with his friends. It seems that all he does during his waking hours is never-ending chit-chat and exercising in the middle of the living room, grunting up a storm. These two things sometimes happen at the same time, making you want to scream.Â
Adding onto your frustrations are his so-called âcooking experiments,â the stench of burned food often hanging in the air for hours after he finishes cooking, pots and pans left to soak overnight. You do have to admit, though, that they might very well need the soaking, given the amount of charred food on them. And Eijiro usually cleans them up the next morning without prompting. Usually.Â
Itâs just two more weeks, you tell yourself, then things will open up again and he can go spend time SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Things go on like this for months, your urge to throw him out a window slowly growing with each day.
Then, one Saturday morning, you find him sitting at the dining table, eyes red-rimmed and nose running. Your first thought is that he caught covid. But thereâs something off about the scene; Eijiro isnât behaving like someone whoâs sick. He absentmindedly moves his cereal around in the bowl, lifts the spoon, then lowers it again. His breathing stutters, he hiccups, then lets out a shaky sigh. And it hits you; heâs not sick, nor is he potentially hungover. Heâs trying his best to not cry.Â
You almost wish you could back into your bedroom, pretend like you didnât notice anything to give him some privacy. But itâs too late.
âOh!â you hear him croak as he sees you, followed by a very wet sniffle.
Guess Iâm dealing with this now, you think. The two of you had a pretty decent -if almost non-existent- relationship before the lockdown, right? You really ought to be a good roommate.
âAre you alright?â you ask. It seems stupid in hindsight, heâs clearly far from alright.
And Eijiro admits as much.Â
âI⊠⊠no.âÂ
You watch as he clenches his teeth, lower lip wobbling, trying to breathe through whatever this is. And you sigh. Yeah, itâs time to be a good roommate.Â
Moving into the kitchen, you begin fixing your own bowl of cereal. You figure this conversation might be easier for him if youâre not looking straight at him. Heâs always seemed like the type of hyper-masculine person whoâd hate crying in front of others.
âWhatâs going on?â you ask.
Eijiro sniffles again. Heâs silent for a moment, then he draws in a deep, shaky breath. âIâm so fucking lonely,â he admits.
Humming in response, you eye the pot of coffee he made earlier. Surely he wonât mind if you have some, not when youâre listening to him vent. You pull a cup from the cupboard.
âBut you talk with your friends all the time, donât you?â You have to fight not to make a snippy comment about how loud they usually are; now isnât the time for that.
He shifts in his seat. ââS not the same,â he says, then adds in a smaller voice, âNot at all.â
Placing your filled coffee cup next to you, you finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter, cereal bowl balanced in one hand. Sitting in front of him at the table still feels a bit too intimate with the mood heâs in.
His silhouette is dark against the light from the window at the end of the room, mirroring his emotions. You realize that his hair isnât styled into the normal spikes; instead itâs drooping around his face, making him seem smaller, almost like heâs folding in on himself. Like heâs trying to hide. You barely recognize him.
âHow is it not the same?â you ask, deciding to prod just a little bit. âIs it because youâre not in the same room?â
âItâs not just that!â he responds. âI can kinda get there if I really crank the volume, butâŠâ
Oh, you think, is that why he prefers it so loud? Here you just thought he was obnoxious and had no respect for your working hours. Or your sleep.
âBut?â you prod again.
Eijiro sighs deeply. When he speaks again, his voice croaks with held-back tears. âI miss physical touch. Weâre pretty tight, me ân my friends. We hug each other a lot.â He sighs again; it almost sounds like his heart is breaking. âNot being in the same room as them, not being able to hear their voices except through headphones - it already hurts. But not being able to reach out and touch them is⊠itâs so much worse.âÂ
He swallows hard, then continues, âDenkiâs roommate moved back home with their parents; to assist them, I think. So heâs alone too. He cried on our call yesterday. And I couldnât do anything; couldnât offer him a tissue, or a hug, or anything!â
You have no idea who Denki is. But it strikes you that Eijiro described him as âalone too.â Denki, it seems, really is alone if his roommate has moved out. Did Eijiro truly see himself in the same situation, even with you here? You swallow hard. Maybe you havenât been as good a roommate as you thought.Â
Looking at the cereal bowl in your hand, you absentmindedly stir it, much like Eijiro had done with his own bowl just a moment before. Seems like you might have misjudged him too, if he truly gives physical affection to his friends as freely as he just described. You hadnât expected that - youâve always seen him as the classic, super macho gym-nut who might catch the gay if heâs in the vicinity of the color pink. Not that heâs ever given you any reason to believe that, you slowly realize. This was all your own prejudice. You really havenât been a good roommate. And that realization stings.
Looking at Eijiro again, you feel like you see him in a different light. You read an article just the night before about how the pandemic has left a lot of people touch-starved when they canât participate in their usual social activities.Â
The article suggested moving in with friends, with family, even with friends-with-benefits, just to stave off touch-starvation and loneliness. You have to admit that you feel a bit touch-starved too, now that you canât spend time with your friends or family. And isnât there something about humans needing a certain amount of touch a day to thrive?
Eijiroâs voice pulls you out of your thoughts.Â
"Dâya think I could have a hug?" he asks, finally facing you, his eyes brimming with tears.
You realize in that moment that a hug sounds really, really great. And maybe this is an opportunity to actually get to know your roommate. Especially when you donât know how long this pandemic will last. The promise of two weeks to flatten the curve has already been extended several times.
Putting your cereal bowl on the counter, you wordlessly spread your arms. Eijiro is up in an instant, chair clattering against the floor. Then you find yourself swept up in what you can only describe as a bone-crushing embrace. You know heâs buff, but you havenât realized just how strong he is. Gasping for air, you tap his biceps.
âNot so tight!â you wheeze.
Eijiro lets out what you can only describe as a wet bark of laughter. But he loosens his grip on you instantly.
âSorry,â he mumbles, sniffling again. âGot a bit too enthusiastic.â
âThatâs okay,â you say. âGuess you really needed it.â
Itâs comforting, you realize, as you sink back into the embrace. Heâs warm, and his arms around you feel safe for some reason. You can almost imagine falling asleep standing like this, certain that heâll keep you upright. But you want your coffee while itâs still hot.
Eijiro seems reluctant to let go when you begin pulling away, scrubbing at his face behind your back.
Finally, he looks at you again, tear streaks on his cheeks. âThink we could do this again sometime?â he asks shyly.
You smile at him and nod. âYeah. I think weâre both gonna need it.â