THE LOVERS

𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

[mattsvn]

MOON. 23. Gemini ☼ ↑ Capricorn ☽ THEY/THEM

THE ASTROLOGY MAP:

about me. m.list. rules byf/dni. tags join my taglist.

CONNECTIONS

HELLO HAIKYUU!!

MY CAFE ACADEMIA

APOLLO'S HOUSE: MULTIFANDOM SERVER.

ANIME VILLAGE

LAST POST:

SOUR [Kenma Kozume SMAU]

RESOURCES

BLM. Stop Asian Hate. Myanmar Int. Suicide Hotlines. Free Palestine.

THE MOON IS: WANING GIBBOUS

RETROGRADE: FAR AWAY!

SUN CURRTENLY IN: LEO

TAROT CARD: THE MOON

[theorangepdf]

does anyone know what you’re supposed to do after graduating college

[mattsvn]

SOUR: A KENMA KOZUME SMAU.

Pairing: Streamer!Kenma Kozume x Kitten Rescuer! Reader

Summary: As a rainy night hits the streets of the New York, Kenma finds a group of newborn kittens with no mother in the middle of the street. After talking to some of his friends, they help him contact a kitten rescuer, who happens to have a boyfriend. Still, that doesn't stop him from falling for her.

Trope: Strangers to friends to lovers, SMAU only, influencer/celebrity AU!

Warnings: mentions of pet grief, toxic behavior in the gamer community as well as social media, manipulation, gaslighting, emotionally absent partner. Each warning will be tagged in post.

A/N: LOOK LOOK, this is something I've been wanting to post for a minute and I couldn't figure out the plot of American Cliché so, this is the result! You'll find all the posts about it under the tag of #sourkenmakozume! Send me an ask to join the taglist and pls if u don't wanna see that block the tag "#sourtaglist" !

status: ongoing taglist: CLOSED! updates: every week!

MEET THE STREAMERS || MEET THE RESCUERS

I. A GIFT UNDER THE RAIN.

II. WHISKERS MCWHISKERS FACE

III. AM I FAMOUS NOW?

—I ONLY CARE ABOUT CAT PICTURES

—BRUTAL

—TRAITOR

—DRIVER'S LICENSE

—ONE STEP FOWARD

—BETRAYAL

—THREE STEPS BACK

—CALM BEFORE THE STORM

—AN OPEN SECRET

—HAPPIER

—A BIG LOSS

—DEJA VU

—SMILE, TRAITOR!

—SKIN

—ENOUGH FOR YOU

—AN ADDITION TO THE FAMILY!

—THE QUESTION.

EPILOGUE.

© MATTSVN 2021. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours

[mattsvn]

is it time to bring this back

[mattsvn]

VOLVISTEEEEEEE

VOLVIIIII, HOLAAA SIIII

estoy planeando en empezar a hacer rebranding d mi cuenta y volver al 100 COMO HAS ESTADO TE EXTRAÑO CUANDO VI TU PERFIL TE SEGUI AL INSTANTEEE

[rkgknno]

I constantly forget I can just upload sketches on here

[mattsvn]

just feed your starving children with anything please, anything is good 😭

I AM WORKING ON THE OKAMI AU IM OMW TO FEED UUU

[sharingneedles]

IVE BEEN WAITING ALL YEAR TO POST THIS YOU DONT EVEN KNOW

[fuckyeahpaganism]

I’m crying. 

[for-fox-sakess]

i scheduled this a year ago..

[madasross]

Scheduling for every year

[rylandsgrace]

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1994) dir. Henry Selick

[mattsvn]

...hi

[funnytwittertweets]

[mattsvn]

me and @meliorist-midoriya

[ashstfu]

before spotify wrapped comes out, y’all gotta realize that i went through approximately 20 personality changes and am not responsible for whatever song i looped for seven hours

[mattsvn]

DO YOU MISS ME?

[bakugo katsuki] fem!reader, angst, old request, old repost, major character death, mentions of acohol and unhealthy consumption, depression, grief, PTSD, destructive behaviors, overworking, nightmares. 1.4k words.

Do you even miss me a little?

Bakugo woke up as soon as he heard those words tickling his neck, he screamed as a result of the panic after seeing her for the first time in such a long time. With shortness of breath, he clenched his fists, trembling, repeating to himself that it was only a dream, a horrible dream, another of the many horrible dreams that he used to have. He could feel sweat running down his face and a slight dizziness, which, added to the recent nightmare, was about to make him vomit. He looked at the clock, 1:37 am. He took a deep breath, now with his hands on his face, he sought to breathe normally, even with the face of the love of his life very much present in his mind.

He was still unable to compose himself while pouring a glass of water.

Probably he should move out, he thought, probably he was still having nightmares because he couldn’t leave that house where he shared so many memories with you. It was probably the fact that he still couldn’t throw away any of your belongings, it was as if he said you weren’t important, as if your death had helped him get rid of you. Each of the things that reminded him of you he treasured with his life, for him, it was as if he was keeping the last beats of your heart, trying, in vain, to keep you alive.

He clicked his tongue, leaving the empty glass in the sink. His nightmares used to happen at about five o'clock in the morning so he tried to distract himself by going to train just before work. Slowly, he began to return to those habits that took him so long to break. He started to shut himself up again, to ignore what he was feeling, to point out a goal that would distract him from his painful bloodstained past.

In this way, he tried to sleep again, achieving this after more than two hours. The alarm made him wake up suddenly, unable to shake off that new nightmare. Even with the bitter taste of that dawn and dark circles under his eyes, he greeted the guard of his agency and went inside to train.

Memories of your death haunted him as if it had happened just yesterday; his mind was still fixed on that tragic mission where he lost you and where he could do nothing but shout at the sky for you to breathe again. He had complained that the two of you were on two different teams on that mission, he knew that both of you were a better team than that other hero you had been paired with, and, if only he had been more insistent, if only they had listened to him, you would have been with him by his side, brightening up his days, making him feel alive. If only, if only…

For months nightmares about how he had to carry your lifeless body tormented him by taking away his sleep and desire to live. Followed by overwhelming interviews and press conferences, the light from the cameras hitting him in the face remained a vivid memory of yet another of the tragedies surrounding your death. He barely spoke to the press, but the anger began to fill him when the comments about how emaciated he looked, about how poor Ground Zero had lost the love of his life, how sad. The pity made him feel sick, even, it made him think about how they stained your memory, nobody talked about your achievements, nobody talked about how you did not doubt for a second to sacrifice your whole life to save those strangers. No one asked the little boy how his last memory of you before saving him was that warm smile you had with everyone. It seemed, no, it was all in vain.

That was the first time he broke in front of everyone.

“You fucking bastards, you don’t care about her at all! You’re just here to have something to put on your stupid magazine covers!” he shouted, trying not to cry. “She wasn’t just my girlfriend, she was a hero who gave her life and I think it’s pathetic that you’ve forgotten that!” he stood up from his chair, throwing it away. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…!”

“Bakugo, are you listening to me?” he heard Kirishima say. “Man, you look awful,” he murmured, getting close to him. “Are you alright? Maybe you should go rest,” he proposed, genuinely concerned. Kirishima was aware that the anniversary of your death was just around the corner, and he was going to make sure Bakugo didn’t lose his way like last time.

“I’m fine, shitty hair,” he refused, taking the weights back to the floor for further training. “I need more than a couple of hours of lack of sleep for me to go home.”

“If you say so.”

The rest of the day turned out to be horribly slow. There was no mission or altercation, nothing that could distract him from doing anything but patrol with your ghost walking by his side. There was something about that day, something that simply did not allow him to be calm, he felt observed, persecuted, he had no other way to explain it, it was likely that all this was the result of the nightmare that was repeated like a movie in his mind.

He returned to the silent and empty house where he lived, the one he could no longer call home because you were not there. Or well, your body wasn’t there. In the cabinets was still your favorite cup, and in the bathroom followed each of your belongings, Bakugo was in charge of cleaning them and putting them in their place, in case you came back, in case that was just a bad dream. Your side of the bed was always spotless, just as you left it before you died, the book you never finished, the reading glasses and a glass of water he couldn’t move. Katsuki hadn’t even dared to take the sweatshirt you always stole from him to sleep, he wanted to keep believing that you were taking it on the sly and that he would come home to see you reading that book or watching your favorite series. He wanted you to be there.

He drank his third glass of whiskey before heading off to sleep, emotionally exhausted from thinking about you so much. Maybe it was time to let go, maybe it was time, he cried for you a long time, yes, a long, long time…

“Katsuki” a warm hand caressed his jaw, waking him from his sleep. “Katsuki, you are late for work,” he heard, as he opened his eyes. “Stop fooling around,” she repeated, Bakugo looked at her with fear, reaching out to touch her, was it real? “Move, we have an important mission today!” she yelled, making her ears ring. The traces of the touch of a few moments ago felt like ice now.

“Hey, stop!” he shouted, sitting down as he looked at her. “You’re dead,” he said, only a broad smile came over him. “Stop mocking me and tell me what’s going on now, this is not funny!”

“There’s no time for breakfast because you fell asleep,” she replied, changing her shirt. “But we can order something to go at the restaurant near the agency,” she suggested, making the blond man increasingly angry.

“Listen to me! What the fuck is wrong with you?” he stood up, walking to her to take her by the shoulders, she smiled back at him, squeezing his cheeks and kissing his lips, only this time the kiss felt cold, as if he had put his lips on the ice.

“Do you even miss me a little?” she asked him with laughter, those laughs she only had with him every morning when they talked about who was the slowest to get dressed. “Katsuki, do you even miss me a little?” she repeated, the hands she was using to hold his cheeks felt as cold and lifeless as marble. “Why couldn’t you save me?” she asked, and when the blond man looked into her eyes, all he saw in them was emptiness.

“Shut up,” he cried into the void, and it was then that he realized that it was all a dream, another nightmare, another memory that you were gone. The side of your bed was empty, empty and cold, like marble.

He drank from the glass of water, with the clock striking 1:37 AM. It was time to let you go, but how exactly could he do that?

He left the glass in the sink, running his hands over his face and moving forward to sleep on the couch. Probably the first thing he had to do was accept that you would never come back.

Do you even miss me a little?

All the time.

[mattsvn]

Hey! Sorry for the hiatus I took without saying!

Basically, I'm starting the end of my college semester, this week I had my excavación practices so I was either digging or sleeping, and I also have some projects I haven't finished, I'll try to post some smau stuff once in a while but for now I will be pretty much inactive

[mattsvn]

THANKS FOR THE FLOWERS

Making that tik tok prank of saying "thanks for the flowers" to your S/O.

Characters: Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji, Matsukawa Issei, Bokuto Kotarou.

© MATTSVN 2021. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours

[mattsvn]

THANKS FOR THE FLOWERS

Making that tik tok prank of saying "thanks for the flowers" to your S/O.

Characters: Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji, Matsukawa Issei, Bokuto Kotarou.

© MATTSVN 2021. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours

[stonerfae]

reblog to give the person you reblogged this from a little pumpkin 🧡

[neoheros]

as a personal rule, nanami makes it a point to never make plans during the night.

not only does he find it extremely unnecessary, but he's already ran through and thin all day at his job, it shouldn't be a surprise to anyone when he says he's too tired or - for lack of better word - uninterested in going out when all he'd rather do is stay at home in his apartment.

the only exceptions he considers in this rule are a.) when it’s the jujutsu tech asking for him to return in the middle of the night, or b.) right now.

he’s had a very long day, and in long days, there’s only one thing that can provide him comfort and peace — a sandwich.

which brings him here now — in a bakery a few blocks from his apartment, at eleven in the evening, tired and hungry.

"hey nanami!"

a shudder goes down his spine.

unfortunately, he recognizes that voice all too well for him to even wonder who it might be.

and for a long second, he seriously considers just faking not having heard them, and walking out of the shop right then and there.

but gojo satoru is quicker than he is, and that means before he could take another step towards the door, the annoying white haired man is already by his side.

"i didn’t think i’d see you here!" gojo beams, throwing one of his arms around the nanami's shoulder.

"why are you—" and he pauses, "what the hell are you wearing?"

and nanami remembers just then exactly what he was wearing, and it’s another reason added to why he should literally never go out at night ever.

“is that a rock shirt?” there's strained laughter lacing gojo's voice, “since when did you listen to metallica?”

a hard picture to paint - and as nanami kento grits his teeth together - the black metallica shirt he's wearing suddenly feels a lot more uncomfortable than it actually is.

“that’s none of your business.” he tells him, keeping a firm stoicity on the hints of his voice.

and gojo narrows his eyes, putting one hand on his hip as he grins, “name one metallica song.”

“gojo.” nanami warns, and this is his personal way of asking him to shut up and just let him buy his bread in peace.

but gojo is gojo, and nanami's known him for way too long to know that he doesn't answer to reason.

so he sighs, his shoulders slightly falling, and he makes his way to the counter, sandwich in hand, and trying his best to ignore the white haired man walking with him.

"name one singer in metallica." gojo smiles, satisfied in following him around.

nanami doesn't spare him another glance, "no."

"what's your favorite metallica album?" gojo asks again, this time just for the hell of it.

nanami keeps his head up, "i don't have one."

and gojo scoffs, both his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head disappointedly, "you're sounding like a real poser, nanami."

so much for buying my bread in peace.

nanami sighs — seriously? — leave it to the universe for sending gojo his way on the one night he decided to break his rule for bread.

his shoulders fall, “gojo, what’re you even doing here?”

and honestly, nanami expected for gojo to say something along the lines of "picking up a chick" or "i put a tracking device on you so i can stalk you and see you during your worst moments".

what he didn't expect was when he said something entirely different — something much more alarming than the stalking thing — and it's that gojo satoru, probably the one person in the world that he cannot stand, is out here, in this bakery, with you.

nanami blinks, "what? who's here?"

“yeah — we just got back from jujutsu tech, and i said that we had to deal with something here too," gojo explains, shrugging, "but i really just wanted a sandwich."

“gojo.” nanami looks at him, and he’s more serious than ever now, “who is here with you?”

“nanami?”

and it's you.

now, gojo seeing nanami in his sleep clothes at eleven in the evening as he's buying a sandwich is one thing, but you ... probably seeing the exact thing - metallica shirt and all - well, that is just about a million times worse.

you stand a few steps away from the cashier, your own basket of bread and sandwiches in your hand, and you look at him like its the first time you've seen him all day.

“woah!” you beam, the smile on your face easily reaching your eyes, “you’re wearing the shirt i gave you!”

gojo clutches his stomach, the smile on his face opening with laughter, and he points, “you gave this shirt to him?”

"yeah!" you nod, and you look at nanami in acknowledgement, "for his birthday a year ago.”

gojo’s smile drops, “what? — what happened to your 'no presents' rule?”

"unbelievable," and there's a hand harshly hitting his chest as the white haired man in front of him groans in disbelief, “remember when i bought you that really expensive tie and all you did was return it.”

"i already have ties." nanami pushes him off away from his chest, rolling his eyes, “i had no use for it.”

"really?" gojo scoffs, his arms suddenly dramatically crossed over his chest, “and you have use for a metallica shirt?”

"hey!" and this time, it's your turn to shove gojo, your foot kicking him lightly as you frown, “it’s a cute shirt.”

(completely ignoring him as he yells in pain.)

“yes.” nanami looks your way, and he nods, making a quick glance at gojo, “i agree.”

gojo blinks, “you’re messing with me.”

“i’ve never seen you wear that shirt.” he scoffs, his voice falling dramatically as he looks at both you and nanami with a faux hurt expression.

gojo puts a hand on his heart, “and i’ve known you since high school, we’re best friends!”

nanami ignores gojo, instead turning to look at you with a grim expression, “no, we’re not.”

and you look back at him, “oh, i know.”

gojo fades in the background in nanami’s peripheral vision, his newly found attention now falling on you and the tired look you wore on your face, and he figures that you might’ve had a long day too.

he wants to ask if you’re okay, but nanami bites his tongue.

“but why are you wearing it?” you laugh, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you out of your usual clothes.”

his usual clothes which were a suit and tie, and it’s just now you realize that you might’ve been under the impression that he sleeps in his work attire too.

your shoulders rise, “you ran out of laundry or something?”

“i wear this shirt all the time.” nanami answers, his face still unbothered, but he straightens out the shirt in question.

you quirk an eyebrow, and he contemplates for a second if it’s worth it to tell you that this shirt is probably the most cherished thing he owns.

it means a lot to him to have this shirt from you.

and he cracks a small smile, “for sleeping.”