#Small might fluff

[pseudowho]

Yagi Toshinori/All Might x Reader

Fluff, suggestive

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All Might was strong, and soft. You knew this before you started dating (which was an operation performed strictly in secret, so wildly publicised would it be, to be seen on his arm in public).

Candlelit dinners in Musutafu's finest, instead became quiet nights in, with faithful security guards ushering you to the Might Tower penthouse where Toshinori waited, fizzing with excitement.

Instead, Toshinori took delight in stealing your blushes through deliberately poorly-timed whispered compliments. His array of vintage pet names would sound corny, were he any less sincere. It hadn't taken Toshinori long to cotton on to the glee to be found in a secret love affair.

And it hadn't taken long for you to retaliate; which was how you found out how soft the powerful All Might really was.

"I set you free for the rest of the afternoon, young ones! Spend your study time wisely! Strive to be the best you, that you can be!" Toshinori boomed over the heads of the students, filing out before him.

He spun, turning and bending down to you with that familiar trademark grin...only, heartfelt and wicked now, instead of fixed. His voice lowered barely enough to escape the students' notice.

"Of course," he intoned, his breath grazing your ear, setting a shiver down your spine, "my honeybee is already the best she that she could be."

You slapped a handful of books down on the desk, a frisson of electric sending you erect as you turned to him with a warning look in your eye. The warning look quickly died, at his boyish smile and natural warmth, unable to fight a man that you knew absolutely meant it.

Later, you approached him in the busy corridor, schooling your expression to that of polite disinterest in greeting a passing colleague.

"Yagi-san--"

Toshinori jostled you, sending papers tumbling to the floor, and apologising profusely in a dramatic hush, bending with you to collect the scattered reports from the floor.

"I apologise-- I really am sorry-- gosh, what a mess!" As people channelled around you, Toshinori's fingers plaited briefly with yours, his voice lowering again. "Not that messy is something my pookie identifies with, though. Not yet."

You dropped the rest of your papers, stuttering as Toshinori scooped them up with a flourish, standing with you and bundling them back into your arms. You stumbled, blushing as he clapped an enormous hand onto your shoulder with a laugh, and a thunderous farewell, leaving you stranded and skittish in the corridor.

In the lunch queue, you felt a shadow darken your tray, and turned, looking up. This time, Toshinori barely even bothered to alter his tone, instead hiding behind the student and faculty's food-related distraction. He plucked a tiny steaming basket from the self-service window, dropping it onto your tray with a muted thmp.

"Dumplings...for my dumpling."

You snapped, grabbing his usual cold brew from the fridge, and popping it onto his tray, smiling sweetly up at him.

"I'm lucky to have such a cute guy choosing lunch with me."

A blush burned over Toshinori's cheeks like you had slapped it on him. You felt a roar of success as, when you were called forwards, you saw Toshinori fumble his tray with enormous hands, his coffee splatting to the floor to his stuttered apologies. You left with a flick of the skirt and a smirk on your lips.

Between lessons, in the stream of shouting students, you felt yourself scooped in one great palm and effortlessly shepherded aside, hearing Toshinori's gravelly tones announce your departure; "My dear, could I borrow a moment of your time to discuss a lesson plan?"

You loaded a bullet as Toshinori pulled you round the corner, sniping him before he could take his shot.

"Darling, I must say--"

"What's such a handsome bear needing with me, in a narrow little corridor?"

Toshinori gasped, a single broad palm pressed to his chest, staggered by the force of his b-dmp. His blush rose from the collar up. He reached one trembling hand out to you as you walked away, leaving him stunned in your wake.

As the day wound to a close, you entered the staffroom, to find Toshinori and Aizawa stood, talking at the window. Toshinori grinned, faltering just so as you approached him with a honeydew smile.

You looped your hand through the crook of his elbow as if you were in black and white, pecked his cheek in a chaste little kiss, and fired off the killshot.

"I've missed you," you chirped, "Hubby."

A strangled choke left Toshinori's throat, and he almost buckled, gripping the window frame hard enough to make it crack with another hand clutching his heart.

Aizawa shot you a look of despair as you walked away, looking between you and Toshinori, who had yet to regain his usual colour. Aizawa called after you as you left, sniggering.

"You can't just do that to him. Hey! Come back! You can't do that to an old man--"

"Aizawa-kun, please--"

You called back over your shoulder. "He had it coming, Shouta. Turns out he can dish it out, but he can't take it!"

[whitehotwild]

took a peek at amazon music’s The Boys character playlists (really just Butcher’s and Hughie’s… womp womp)… ohhhh old man Butcher my beloved.

all i can imagine is being at Butcher’s apartment for one reason or another.

☆ maybe the team went out to a bar together, and as everyone turned in for the night, saying their goodbyes, you and butcher were the last ones there. For whatever reason, he refuses to send you off by yourself to your own apartment this late at night and tells you to just come over and spend the night at his, that it’s closer anyway.

you try to ignore the zip up your spine when he leads you into his apartment with a hand on the small of your back. you try to ignore the soft flush of your cheeks when he teases you about snooping while you look through his one (barely filled) bookcase.

“what? you scared I’m gonna find your fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you tease right back, squatting down to flip through the vinyl records he has sitting in a milk crate next to the bookcase.

butcher rolls his eyes with a smirk, “mine ain’t fuzzy… d’you even know what those things are?”

you don’t react, but you do store that in the folder labeled ‘Useful Butcher Information’ that lives in your brain. ignoring his teasing, you let out a soft huff of laughter when you see a record you’ve only seen at your grandparent's house and in the back of a shitty thrift shop uptown.

“exactly how old are you?” you ask, pulling it out and showing him the record in question: Roy Orbison Sings Lonely and Blue (1961).

butcher walks over and takes the record from your hand, switching it for his beer. he had asked you if you wanted one when you two walked through his door, you had declined before, but have taken to stealing sips of his. it’s probably the closest you’ll get to kissing him tonight.

“old enough to know this is real music… not that Taylor Swift shite you force me to listen to in the car.” he snarks, slipping the record out of the sleeve, setting it on his cheap turntable.

you stand back up straight with a scoff, “you can make fun of my ‘brat summer’, but Miss Swift is where I draw the line.” the beginning of the record starts to ring softly through the room…

‘Only the lonely… (dum-dum-dum-dumby-doo-wah)’

“oh… you can’t be serious,” you smile softly and he holds a hand up as if telling you to ‘wait for it’. “…so corny,” you mutter shaking your head, still with that same smile.

butcher takes the beer bottle out of your hand, taking a sip before setting it on one of the shelves, “nope… classic.”

he lets himself be a bit softer around you, even if only for a moment. it’s only when you two are alone, usually late at night, usually after a few drinks that he lets the walls drop… only just a bit.

like now, when he pulls you into the empty space of his living room, placing your hand, the one that isn’t wrapped in his, on his shoulder, his free hand goes to the small of your back.

“so now you wanna dance?” you ask with a bit of snark.

butcher lets out a soft huff of amusement as you two start swaying, “what you lot was doin’ at the bar wasn’t dancin’… you was flailing about.”

“hm… whatever. least we were having fun, i mean… even M.M. got up!”

“‘cause he’s a sucker for ‘Earth, Wind & Fire’.”

“well yeah… who isn’t?”

“me.”

you roll your eyes with a soft sigh, “suuure… stick in the mud.”

you’re both quiet after that, only the sound of old music coming through shitty speakers and gentle steps against his floor fill the room. he dances you through the whole a-side of the album, the hand on your back has snaked around your waist, your head rests against his shoulder, and he holds your intertwined hands closer to his chest.

you take as much of this as you can get from him, knowing these moments are fleeting. there are so many unspoken words between the two of you, you’re too stubborn to make a move, and well… butcher’s too… butcher. he thinks he’s much too undeserving of something as precious as you.

and maybe he’s right. maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you, it doesn’t stop you wanting him. so for now… the soft, fleeting, moments are enough.

it’s always strange when those moments end, though. the way you can see his demeanor shift in an instant.

like now, the music stops and he looks away from you when you look up at him. you can see the way his face changes, like he’s snapping out of a trance or he’s caught himself doing something he knows shouldn’t.

butcher pulls away from you, wiping his hands on his pants as if the feeling of you lingering on his skin has to go. he turns to put the record away and turn off the turntable.

the silence lingers for a minute before he speaks up, “think we should turn in. you take my bed.”

you try to protest, “the couch-“

“don’t fight me on it.” the command isn’t harsh, it’s not mean, it’s only a bit stern, but he just wants you to listen to him.

he just wants to do something nice for you.

you nod with a quiet sigh and thank him with a soft smile. you both retire for the night and you both know you’ll be gone in the morning before he wakes up. you both know you won’t make any mention of it when you're both in the office tomorrow.

but you both know that for now, the fact that it happened at all is enough.

(divider by @/plutism)

[mediumgayitalian]

“Eight o’clock.”

Will’s jaw drops. “What?” He leans sideways to make deliberate and intensive eye contact with Switzerland, who deliberately and intensively avoids it, pretending to be folding laundry. “No way! Cass, tell him no way!”

“Not my business,” says Switzerland, smiling, for some reason, at Will’s oppression. “Your curfew is Lee’s to handle, you know that.”

“Yeah, when I was ten! I’m sixteen! My curfew is not eight o’ fu —” he thinks better of himself, mindful of Lee’s twitching eye — “fudging clock!”

“Eight is a perfectly reasonable curfew for a sixteen year old. Especially if you’re going out with that —” Lee scoffs — “boy.”

“It’s just Nico!” Will cries, nearly braining a poor visitor with the force of his flailing arms. The visitor, after a moment of careful deliberation and several vague, pointed screeching noises from Will, chooses to pull the blood-soaked t-shirt acting as a bandage tighter over their arm and seek help elsewhere. Wise. When he fails, after several extended minutes of flailing, to extrapolate upon his undoubtedly most excellent argument, he repeats, “It’s just Nico!” And then adds, for good measure, “You like Nico!”

“He is a bad influence,” Lee insists, as if he did not cry for five days when Nico asked for his blessing to date Will. “He has too much freedom, you know, his father lets him run amuck like some harlot —”

Will screeches again, so high this time it is soundless, and must be restrained by Gabriel’s firm grip on his collar from mauling Lee like a bear. Lee, in an uncharacteristically smart move — Carter must be rubbing off on him — takes a delicate step back to avoid Will’s clawing fingers.

“—and has no respect for his elders. You’re going to end up bereft or in jail should you keep seeing him, Will, mark my words.”

Will bares his teeth. “If this is about the eyebrow piercing, you sack of shit, I swear to the gods —”

“He looks like a criminal!” Lee looks around the cabin as if anyone is going to agree with him. He is met, instead, with seven raised eyebrows and nine heavy, deep-seated sighs, but remains stubbornly undeterred. Delusional enough to miscredit the incredulity to Will rather than himself, likely. Truly Apollo’s pride.

“I am going to hunt you to death.”

“So long as you’re back by eight.”

Will deigns, instead of a verbal response, to scream, loud and long, and stomp his way away from the cabin and across the common.

“I’ll take that as compliance!” Lee calls out after him. The scream, somehow, increases in volume, not breaking even as seven people trip to remove themselves hastily from Will’s path. “If you are not back there will be consequences!”

“I hate you!”

“Be safe! I will be waiting up!

“I hope you pass away in your sleep!” A pause. “I don’t mean that, but fuck you!”

“Children,” Lee scoffs to himself, retreating back into the cabin. “No respect anymore.”

“You’re a loser,” Diana informs him.

“It’s those godsdamned iPods, is what it is.”

“Oh my gods.”

———

next

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[exoticb-utters]

So this is Love?

“Flufftober” series. 5 All Smite X Reader Part 1/3 Word Count: 1.7k

Writing this for self indulgent purposes…enjoy ;)

You huffed in frustration, wiping the water that relentlessly poured down your face from the heavy rain. A crack of thunder is heard overhead as your heels clack against the ground.

Knew I should’ve brought an umbrella to work today…

You stomp your way home, silently chastising yourself for forgetting that it would be raining today- well, technically tonight. Fortunately, you didn’t live too far away.

Just as you pass an alleyway, you heard a cough. You slow down your movements, turning your head to the ominously dark path. 

“H-hello?” You call out, not sure if you wanted a response in this situation. 

Instead, another cough rings out from the darkness, this one sounding more ragged and��wet?

“D-do you need help? It’s raining pretty hard out here…” You trail off, lifting a hand over your eyes to block the cold water from running down your face further. 

Nothing fills the silence this time. 

You take a deep breath before exhaling with a sigh. Just your luck. 

You turn on your heel and walk into the abyss. The night sky and even darker clouds did nothing to help you see in this alley, but there were some (barely) functional streetlights behind you. 

You spot a large figure, kneeling behind a dumpster in a hunched over position. “Sir, a-are you hurt?” You ask, nervously approaching the stranger. 

What were you doing? This is crazy! You, a single woman, are approaching a random man in an alleyway for crying out loud! 

Another sickly cough is ripped from his lungs, his chest heaving as a crimson liquid spills out onto the pavement beneath him. 

Well, this random man in the alleyway clearly needs help. Your brain reminds you. As a nurse, it was hard to ignore your moral code. Guess old habits die hard. 

With another sigh you bend over, inspecting him further. You almost immediately notice a large gash on his side. You quickly cover your mouth to hide your gasp. 

“You’re hurt!” You exclaim as your eyes flickered over his body, searching for any extra injuries.

“Well, obviously.” The man before you sneers, his voice deep and…slightly intimidating if you were being honest. He hacks once more, another concerning amount of blood splattering against the ground as he did so. 

“Here, let me help you.” You offer your hand. Who were you kidding, this guy was a literal giant- no wayyou were lifting him up. 

You see his head tilt to the side, as if he were giving you a once over before scoffing. 

“Come on, you’re seriously hurt, can you walk?” You question, slightly retracting your hand. 

“Yeah…probably.” He answers almost shakily, all previous attitude in his tone gone. 

“Well, you can’t just sit here and bleed out so up you go!” You huff, taking his hand in an unsuccessful attempt to lift him to his feet. 

He sighs to himself before pushing himself up, standing on his feet now. 

And holy shit was he tall. 

“Lean on me if you have to, my apartment’s closer than the hospital so I’ll fix you up there okay?” You say softly, looking up at him to make sure he was okay. 

You found he was already looking down at you. His thick blonde brows were furrowed in an unreadable expression as blood ran from his forehead to his chin. You felt a shiver run down your spine at his intense gaze. You quickly brushed it off, not letting yourself overthink the action. 

“I’ll take that as a yes…” You answer for him, the heavy pitter-patter of the rain drowning out any surrounding sounds other than your soft tone. 

“It’s just down the street.” You lead him out the alleyway, his large arm slung across your shoulder awkwardly as he held his injured side. 

You’re given a curt nod as he hobbles next to you. The sight of your predicament was truly an unruly one, thankfully, the hour of this rainy night prevented anyone from being outside to witness it.

In record time, you made it to your small home. You helped him up the stairs before opening the front door.

“You don’t lock your doors?” Whether it was a look of astonishment or disdain he was giving you, you couldn’t tell. 

“Um…no? Is that weird?” You reply, chuckling to yourself. You led him to your living room, motioning for him to sit on the couch while you looked for your med-kit. 

“Well, seeing how there are villains around these parts that could break in at any time while you’re away- yes. It is very weird.” He says matter-of-factly while you fished through the bathroom cabinets. 

You snort out a laugh from the other side of the house at his reply, coming back with the kit and rag in hand. He then plopped down on the sofa, the furniture dipping in from his size with a dangerous groan.

“Well, with heroes around I guess I haven’t found a reason to lock it.” You hum with a shrug, sitting next to him on the coach. 

“Lift your shirt for me.” 

He did so reluctantly, revealing a deep gash with blood spilling from it. You sharply inhale through your teeth as you hold your rag against the wound. 

“You need a better bed-side face doc.” He quips, a huff of amusement leaving his lips. If the room wasn’t so quiet, you might’ve missed it. 

Wait a minute…Did he see you leave the hospital? No, that’s impossible how did he know you were a nurse? Your gaze then flew to his in shock. “How did you…?” 

“You still have your tag on, you know that right?” He muses with a raised brow. 

Oh. 

Well, that makes more sense. 

You’re taken by surprise when he slowly reads your name aloud. “Hm, a villain could’ve definitely used your identity against you. You need to be more careful, y/n.” He repeats, your name almost sounding natural coming from his lips. 

“Seems to me that you’re awfully paranoid.” You retort, removing the bloodied rag and taking out the gauze. 

“Or you could just be extremely reckless.” He counters as you begin to stuff the wound to prevent further bleeding. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” You say finally, wrapping medical cloth around his midsection. 

A comfortable silence fell over you, nothing being heard but the quiet rain from outside. His gaze eventually fell over you. He’d never had someone so gentle with him, All Smite. The number one villain. Clearly you didn’t know his infamous title, or you wouldn’t have him in your home right now. 

He liked it, the break from not instantly being recognized as the number 1 villain in Japan. Maybe he’ll even thank you for your hospitality. 

You tape up the wrap, making sure it wouldn’t move. “Okay, that should hold until the morning when I can take you in for proper treatment at the hospital.” You say while wiping your hand against your forehead, some light sweat forming after the work.

“Let me know if you bleed through the wraps, I’ll change it out whenever okay?” You spare a quick glance at the man in front of you, zipping up the medical equipment.

He looks down at the bandaging, fingers lightly brushing over the material. Another beat goes by before he speaks. “Thank you.” 

“Of course!” You manage, giving him a quick, biter-sweet smile. “I’ll have to make my way to bed now. I wake up early for my next shift.” You say with an exhausted sigh. 

He raises a brow at your words. It was already late, and to think you would be waking up early for another shift was quite the absurd thought to him. 

“How many hours do you work?” He asks, your eyes meeting to his in surprise. 

“Usually around 40-50 a week, I’m always on call during the week but I get weekends off so…” You say with a shrug. 

He shakes his head. That was…objectively too much. Before he has a chance to respond you’re already speaking again. “Well, goodnight! You’re welcome to sleep in the spare bedroom if you’d like.” You offer, motioning to a room down the hall. 

He nods slowly, watching you walk down a different hallway to where he’d assume were your own personal quarters. 

How interesting you were. Interesting and extremely naive. Not only did you just bring the most feared man in all of Japan inside your own home without even realizing it, you gave him hospitality and left him unattended. 

He chuckles to himself, standing up before walking to the spare room you were talking about. 

Opening the door he is meet with a twin bed adorned with white sheets and a single pillow. Other than the bed and a small coffee table next to a window, the room was utterly bare. 

He hummed to himself, sitting on the bed while looking at the window. He watched the water run down the glass tranquilly, lightning flashing in the distance every so often.

He didn’t think he’d stay until morning, but resting his eyes here couldn’t hurt. There was something warm and endearing about your presence. Something he didn’t even know he was missing until encountering you. 

He’d keep an eye on you, someone who doesn’t lock their doors is sure to be prone to robbery...or some form of villainy. As the man of crime himself, he knew this all too well, more than anyone else. 

He took off his shoes, setting them next to the bed. He laid back into the mattress, the bed frame creaking loudly under his weight. 

Even though his ankles were well off the edge of the bed, he couldn’t recall a time where he’d been this comfortable; so at peace. 

He closed his eyes, he’d stay here and rest. 

At least for a little bit.

[your-soup-overlord]

A tiny look into one of the fics called It's My Party (And I'll Cry If I Want To)!

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“Why don’t you just tell them?” Jazz asks Danny once she sits down on his bed, pushing aside his blankets and patting beside her.

“Mom and Dad love you, metagene or not.” She continues.

“Seriously, Jazz, we’ve been over this.” Danny sighs, sitting next to his sister as she turns to face him better, “They hate ghosts, and have threatened to rip phantom apart molecule by molecule. If they’re willing to do that, then what makes you think they’ll stop once they find out their son is a ghost?”

Jazz frowns, “Danny, I know the accident was terrible and horrifying for you, but you’re not a ghost. You need to accept the fact that it simply activated your dormant metagene and gave you ghost adjacent powers.”

“How can I have a metagene when both mom and dad don’t have one! Jazz, I know you don’t want to believe it but-“

“No Danny,” Jazz exclaims as she cuts him off, “ You’re alive. You can’t be a ghost, because ghosts are unfeeling and-“

“Jazz, just stop!” Danny yells, slightly teary. He stands up off the bed, putting some place between him and Jazz as she also stands up with a deepening frown.

“I know you don’t want to believe it but I am a ghost, I died in that accident. I know you don’t want to believe it, but if I can somehow come to terms with it then why can’t you?”

Jazz just stares him down with her disappointed stare. After a few quiet seconds she then sighs, looking exasperated and somehow even more disappointed as she levels him with a harsh glare.

“Even Sam and Tuck agree, Danny. You’re going to far with this ghost thing! I don’t care what that yeti says, or any of those other creatures! You’re not dead. You have a heartbeat and most importantly, you care. You’re not evil, and all this death talk is beginning to freak Tucker out!  And you especially need to stop around Sam. They’ve begun talking to me about it, and about how you’re scaring them. And, well, we’ve all agree that you need to stop fighting those ghosts. Mom and Dad are perfectly capable of getting them, so from now on you’re benched. Those horrible things have been filling your head with lies, and it’s becoming a problem.”

Jazz declares before she walks out, keeping that awful disappointed glare on him.

Danny slams the door behind her, silently seething and holding back tears. They talk about his death so easily! Yet they don’t care to acknowledge it. Danny died, whether they want to accept it or not, and there was nothing they could do about it.

[waywardwritesstuff]

Pspspspsps Wayward it's Vi 👀 Can I request some fluffy relationship headcanons with Toshi? If you write for him ^=^

Of course :D (I'm starting to fall for him a little bit myself, I love the dad types haha)

Fluffy Toshinori Yagi Head Canons

When you two go walking out in the city, he likes to hold your hand, periodically placing little kisses on your hand. On your fingers, knuckles, top of you hand. Just doing it whenever he remembers

He's not the best cook in the world, but he really just likes being able to make food for you, he likes cooking with you as well and when you're sick he tries to recipes to see if anything will help you get better quickly

Sometimes he get's a little self conscious about his eyes, he wants you to be ablet to see the eyes you fell in love with, not the sunken blackness of his cursed ones. But you tell him that you love all of him no matter what, and you still think his eyes are beautiful

He always tells you he loves you whenever he can, especially since being number one means he's in danger and you would be in danger if anyone knew you were with him, he's worried he might go to work one day and forget to say "I love you" and it'll be the last time he'll see you.

He loved sharing his clothes with you. They were usually so big they hung off you like a blanket rather than an article of clothing. He found it cute watching you waddle around in his shirts or hoodies, the hems of them always kissing the floor.

He likes picking you up a lot. No real reason he just likes knowing that he can. Even if it's just to walk you inside from the balcony, or from the bedroom to the lounge room. Just holding you close knowing he can keep you safe.

I hope you enjoyed those. I've never written for Toshi before but I hope these are mostly canon compliant.

Thanks for the ask girl!

[the-anime-enthusiast]

cuddles with small might? please please🥺💖

YES OFC! 😍

(i love when y'all ask me for underrated characters 😌)

Also quick warning pintrest did me NO justice when looking for reference pics so pls forgive 😣

MHA CHARACTERS CUDDLE HEADCANNONS - TOSHINORI YAGI 💪 (SMALL MIGHT)

#1 - Him on Top (that sounds bad sry 💀)

Y'all ever had a partner just come home from work suuuuper sleepy and looking for love and they just plop on top of you without a word? Yeah, he's that partner fs. 🫶

Literally just the exact same thing or instead of him plopping on top of you after a long day at work he throws himself onto the bed next to you and pulls you over him 💞

#3 - ✨ Combination ✨

#2 - Partner on Top (again sry 😭)

Bro sticks his face STRAIGHT INTO YOUR NECK ‼️Gets all warm and cozy just breathing you in, pulling you closer with his (HUGE) hands 😌

#4 - Uno Reverse ↩️

Bro just wants to be held ong 😭 Something Abt his partner being big spoon just makes him so happy 🫶 Loves to be all wrapped up in his partners arm, legs tangled with each other, their nose buried into the back of his neck, HE EATS IT UP ‼️

AHHH OKAY! IM LOVING THIS SERIES ALREADY 😍😍😍

Like I said I LOVE WHEN YALL ASK ME FOR UNDERRATED CHARACTERS 🫶🫶 It's literally my favorite thing bc MHA UNDERRATED CHARACTERS ARE THE BEST CHARACTERS 🫶 Anyways...So here's the small might one!! One of my fav characters (he's adorable) lemme know what you think and PLS REQUEST CHARACTERS 🫶 I love doing these and don't be afraid to ask for some random obscure characters I literally have a special place in my heart for every. single. MHA character. And when I say all of them I mean all of them 😭 From Selkie to Gang Orca, or even the basics like Hawks and Bakugo I GOT U head cannons are my specialty just DONT BE AFRAID TO ASK‼️

LOVE YALL BYE‼️‼️

[jetkostorm]

as a jetko fluff enthusiast personally the fluffy parts of jetko just would just not hit for me if they didnt have their regular canon angst setup. and i feel like the rare times where they ARE given fluff it is under the inevitable context of angst which just makes it hit harder dykwim. even in AUs where its mostly fluff it hits that like. they suffered in another world to have wholesome moments in this one . do you feel me

i love them so much bc they are DEVASTATINGG so every fluffy moment they have is either in the context of impending angst or angst they overcame either in that life or in a previous one and it is so so delicious

[smuttyfang]

All Might, You Embarrass Yourself With Your Quirk

“"I'm big small might Simp but not an all might Simp (If I met him in his big form I'll most likely to feel uncomfortable or intimidated), and what makes some know that the reader likes him is cuz of an animal quirk? (cats with big pupil) and uncomfortable with all might (owls puffing up feather a bit not allot tho). I like the idea of the reader working in UA in someway. she mentally go to normal to BOOM! LOTS OF SEROTONIN! but tries her best to keep cool and not make a fool of herself (but kinda does) in front of small might no less I'm not sure if you take curtain quirk or hero costumes requests but I do like a loose hero custume for the reader (tight clothes makes me feel insecure tbh) and an a nocturnal animal quirk! If not thats ok 👌."

Words: 1,002

"This will be interesting!" You said, leaning over to your good friend, the hero Midnight.

"Oh yes, this one will be delicious." She said, seductively as usual. You stared at the large screen in front of you. You were both sitting with a few other staff members and students watching the first term final exam. Up next was Eraser's battle against Momo and Shoto. Shoto was always an interesting one during these battles. Before the match began, Midnight turned toward you. "So, have you given any more thought to it?"

"Well.." You had recently been introduced to some of the other teachers at U.A. by Midnight. At first it was simply as friends, but they all have really been pushing for you to be involved with the school, even becoming one of the teachers. "I have still been thinking about it. It's a big decision."

"I know, I know. But you could really help put these students in a good position." She giggled. "But seriously, I know your quirk would be useful for teaching them more silent but necessary skills. " She did have a point. Your quirk was useful for operations that required more delicate handling. Since you had the skills of an owl, and the wings, it was extremely easy for you to follow someone silently and stay quiet. You could turn your feet into owl like claws as well to hold yourself on branches and the sides of buildings. "You could also help students who have trouble with balance."

"Yes, I suppose that is true." You placed your fingers on your chin, humming to yourself and thinking. "Maybe, I'm just not sure that I.." You began to speak, but you heard the door to the room open and close. Before you realized it, All Might himself was standing right in front of you. He was wearing.. a suit? It didn't seem like he felt comfortable in it. He would awkwardly pull on his collar and try to pull it away from his neck. He looked at Midnight.

"Hey, Midnight. This a friend?" He gave you a very gentle smile. It felt like your heart jumped.

"Yes, she may be working here soon if I can finally convince her to." All Might sat down beside of you and held his hand out to you.

"We could use all the help we can get. It's nice to meet you then." You felt your wings lightly raise up and flutter, along with your heart. You shakily took his hand in yours and shook it. "Um.. Are you alright? Your wings are flapping." You realized you were creating somewhat of a breeze behind yourself because your wings kept flapping. Some papers flew about the room. You scrambled and tried to hold them down with your hands.

"I, uh.. yeah! That just happens sometimes! Hehe.." You were mortified. It felt like you were already making a complete fool of yourself in front of him.

"I see." He laughed. "You don't need to hide them, they're uh, nice." He rubbed the back of his head. You didn't expect that he would be a nervous type of person. Your wings fluttered even more hearing him say that to you, and you couldn't control them any longer after that. You blushed hard, pushing your face into Midnight's chest to hide. She giggled at you.

"So, did you change your mind about working here yet?" She asked you, slyly. Looking up at her still blushing madly, you whispered to her quietly.

"I definitely want to teach here." She giggled at you and grinned.

"Oh? Why the sudden change of heart, hmm?" She teased. She knew damn well what the reason was.

"Shut up." You pulled away from her, crossing your arms. You looked to All Might. His eyes were trained on the screen, watching the students. It was easy to see how much he cared for them. You tried to avoid staring, and continued with watching the match. Once that match had finished, All Might stood.

"I guess I should prepare for mine." He stretched his arms upward. "Would you like to walk with me?" You felt like screaming out loud you were so happy.

"Oh, absolutely!" You said excitedly. He held his hand out to you to help you up, like a true gentleman. "Thank you.." He really wasn't doing much of anything, but it was still making your heart race. You both began walking out of the room and down the hall together.

"So, you are going to teach then?" He asked.

"I believe so, yes." You nodded. "If I can have the patience, I will do my best."

"You will learn how to have it quickly and easily, I'm sure." He smiled at you. "Then I will be happy to see you in action."

"I definitely don't have anything flashy, but I think some of the things I know are quite practical." You rubbed the back of your neck. "I just hope I can teach, I've never done anything like this before."

"Maybe we could discuss teaching methods, I'm still fairly new to this whole teaching thing." He laughed. You both approached the door to exit and head outside. Steam started rolling off of his body.

"That would be nice, once I get started anyways." His body started to grow larger.

"Over coffee?" He asked, still with a normal and gentle voice.

"I would love that." His transformation was finished, and his appearance was now that of the #1 hero.

"Well, I'll see you soon, then!" He jumped off the ground, laughing loudly, headed toward the battlefield for his match with his students.

AO3

[sweetsmollthings]

Ok so with my post about external shrinking triggers I did keep thinking on it more and wrote something……

Contains: shrinking in spurts, triggered by keywords; shrinking to about 5’3”; shrinking to about 3’6”; shrinking to 3”; an almost-kidnapping; a rescue; fear and angst; probably inaccurate grocery store things (because the author has never worked in customer service jobs)

“Ah—!”

Paige jolted, then looked towards the neighboring cashier. “Val? Are you—?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Val snapped, yanking out her earbuds much too fast (which she clearly regretted, judging from how she winced) and fumbling with her phone. Paige faintly heard a snippet of whatever she was listening to (something about miniatures?) before she finally managed to turn it off.

Paige frowned. The brusque attitude wasn’t unexpected—in all the time they had worked together, Val had always avoided talking to coworkers and customers alike, pointedly keeping her earbuds on to drown out everybody else. She probably took the late night shift to interact with as few people as possible (which, fair); even so, Paige would have liked some appreciation. She considered leaving her alone as requested.

…But the way that Val curled up, clutching her phone tight, breathing much too fast, was too concerning to ignore.

“Hey,” Paige said softly, moving closer. “Deep breaths, alright? Let’s calm down—wait, why are you so short??”

Maybe that was a strange thing to focus on for what was clearly a panic attack, but when someone was a whole head shorter than they should be, how could you not comment on it?

And, when someone got even shorter right before your eyes, could you blame a person for getting derailed? “Wha— huh??? What??? You—“

“Shut up,” Val hissed, shooting out a hand to presumably cover Paige’s mouth, but clearly misjudging the distance because she ended up bopping Paige on the chin instead. Her short sleeves billowed with the movement. Her other hand held a now too-big shirt to her chest. “Just—go away! I’m taking a break—“ Val suddenly grabbed her pants in the middle of turning around, stopping them from falling. Paige saw her ears go red.

“I, um,” Paige stuttered, then wordlessly retreated to her cash register and tried to be normal about this. Don’t stare, don’t stare, don’t stare…

It was impossible. Paige snuck a glance and startled, at first thinking that Val had gotten even smaller, but no. She was just crouching down. Hiding, probably.

Paige hesitated, then reached over to turn off Val’s checkstand light.

After a very quiet half hour, Val stood up again. Full height, this time. She glared at Paige. “Don’t say a word. To anyone.”

Paige nodded. (Not like anybody would believe her.) “So…about all that…”

But Val was already plugging in her earbuds, back to tuning out the world.

…Well. Probably best not to pry.

-

After that incident, Val seemed to put extra effort into avoiding Paige at all costs. Which wasn’t difficult, especially since Paige decided to not pursue the many questions she had. Whatever happened, it wasn’t any of her business. Maybe it never happened in the first place. Maybe she had been dreaming or delirious—never mind that she had felt totally awake—after all, shrinking was obviously impossible.

The unspoken arrangement worked out well. At least until one day, passing by the bathroom door, someone grabbed Paige’s arm.

Screeching, she swung a fist towards the offender and only hit the door (ow). As she nursed her hand, she actually looked at the door and saw Val peeking from behind it. At a much lower angle than she should be. Like, way lower. “Change the song,” she begged, which was…sorta creepy, actually.

“Huh?” Paige said, still trying to reconcile Val’s current impossible height and shift in demeanor.

“On the PA, stupid!” she hissed. (Ah, there we go.) But it turned into a whimper as, all of a sudden, she shot down a few inches. Above them, the speakers cheerfully sang, “a little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side…”

“R-right! Hang on,” Paige said, running to the office. Somehow, she managed to make it before the chorus ended.

When she ran back, the bathroom door was closed again. She knocked. “It’s me. Are you…okay?”

The only answer was a clumsy click as the door opened again. Val peeked out, definitely much shorter. Child-sized, even. She clearly had to reach up for the door handle and looked miserable about that fact. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Then, “I need you to help me home.”

Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, Paige crouched down. “Can’t you just grow back? You did last time.”

“It’s past midnight,” Val explained bitterly. “I’m stuck like this for now. Just get me home. You have a car, don’t you? It’s just a…quick drive.”

“But my shift isn’t over,” Paige said, then realized how ridiculous that was in this context. “Um. Okay. Just…follow me, I guess.”

Val opened the door a little wider and waddled out, hefting a bundle of what seemed to be almost all her clothes—thankfully, she still had a dress on. That is, her shirt, which was long enough to be a dress. Or rather, she was small enough for it to be a dress. The bundle looked like it would explode out of her arms and Paige briefly considered offering to hold it for her, but then decided that would be too weird.

“I’m gonna just quickly check the carts,” Paige told the manager, who just waved her off, not even looking up from his phone. Val padded behind her on bare feet, ducking her head even though she really didn’t need to. She couldn’t be seen over the register even if she stood up straight.

It was as quick a drive as Val said, just across the street and around the corner. Completely walkable, under normal circumstances. But under abnormal circumstances, Val needed to be helped in and out of the car and escorted to the steps. She couldn’t even unlock the door on her own. Val didn’t say a word the whole time, not even a thank you before shutting the door in Paige’s face.

-

So clearly, for whatever reason, Val shrunk any time she heard any word that meant “small” and grew back at midnight, like some sort of bizarre Cinderella. Her general demeanor made a lot more sense now. Why be friendly with people if conversations were a landmine for triggering a…curse? Probably a curse. This seemed pretty curse-like.

Being privy to this secret didn’t afford Paige any exemption to Val’s antipathy, though. It did afford her a lot more requests for help, and while she did understand that she was probably the only one who could help (since the cat was out of the bag anyways), it was sort of getting stressful, considering that most of the requests involved sneaking her out of work. Sometimes when she wasn’t even that small.

“Can’t you get noise-cancelling headphones or something?” Paige asked tersely on one of their secret drives.

Val looked at her, surprised. Even after their arrangement began, they never really exchanged words during the drives. It was just a given that they should be done in silence. After a long pause, she tugged at her shirt (which wasn’t even that baggy this time) and replied, “They hurt after a while. And it’s not like they work perfectly.”

“It’s better than nothing. I can’t keep doing this for you, I’ll lose my job.”

Val glared hard at the glovebox. “Okay. Got it,” she said coldly, sending a twinge of guilt through Paige. But really, it was unreasonable to ask her to do this. She wasn’t in the wrong here. Val should be figuring out how to handle this herself.

-

“Who’s that?”

Paige blinked, coming out of her automatic check-out mode, and looked at where the shopper pointed. “Huh? Val?”

The shopper nodded. “Thanks. I don’t need a receipt.”

“Alright,” Paige said slowly. That…was a little weird, right? Should she tell Val? But it’s been pretty awkward ever since their last conversation. And she could handle herself. She should handle herself, really. Paige wasn’t her keeper.

When their shift ended, Paige got into her car and headed home—her home, not Val’s. Which, of course, was how it should be. It was late. She needed some sleep before class. They weren’t friends.

…

Sighing heavily, Paige turned around and drove back to the road she had grown so familiar with, peering ahead for any sign of a person on the empty sidewalks. As she approached Val’s house, her headlights caught a lone figure, crouching close to the ground, over a pile of clothes—

Paige quickly parked, launched herself out of her car, and punched the shopper from before in the solar plexus. In one fluid motion, she scooped up the clothes and retreated, jumping back in (and knocking her head on the top of her car, ow), and slamming the door behind her—wait, was Val even in the clothes? She couldn’t feel her weight, did she drop her? Paige tore at the bundle of clothes in her lap and yes, she could see a small form squirming around, thank god—

The shopper suddenly slammed a hand on her window and she screamed, dropping Val in the cupholder and slamming on the gas. She didn’t stop until fifteen minutes later, when it was pretty clear there was no car following her. She pulled to the side of the road. “Okay, pretty sure we’re good,” she announced. “Let’s get you out of—“

The tiny hand that slapped at her fingers when she reached into the cupholder barely registered, but Paige flinched back anyways. As the adrenaline wore off, she became aware of soft crying.

And with that came the extra awareness of how…small Val was at the moment, the smallest she’d ever seen her. So small that she fit in a cupholder. So small, she could easily be whisked away.

“I-I’ve never—it’s never been th-this bad before,” Val managed between sobs, tripping over her self-censorship. “Wh-what if I don’t grow back this time?”

“I mean, you always grow back, right? No reason that’ll change. You’ll be normal again in…” …twenty-two hours.

Paige flinched as the wailing just grew louder. Not by much. Being just a few inches tall affected your volume, as it turns out.

“…Want to go to my place?” Paige offered meekly. Neither of them brought up the obvious fact that Val couldn’t stay at her own place. Possibly couldn’t ever go back, considering that her would-be kidnapper knew where she lived.

The cupholder gave no answer other than more weeping. So Paige just quietly drove home.

[spiderpawzsys]

Why are rayne fans on ao3 so horny I JUST WANNA SEE THEM HOLD HANDS AND KISS WITHOUT KNOWING THEYRE GAY

[writermask-0807-backupblog]

TOSHINORI YAGI X READER {TRISTIS OCULIS." or: "YOU HAVE SAD EYES," }

A/N: It's Writermask, and it's my first post as the ✨BaCkUp bLoG✨!!! I officially got permission by Mod Eve (once-upon-a-scenario, you should really check them out if u already don't follow them), and am so happy!!! 😊this is a new writing s t y l e I've tried, and I hope u enjoy!!

Warnings: ooc Toshinori, mentions of blood, implications of abuse and depression.

HIS eyes are blue. 

They're the most bluest you've ever seen- bright, bright sapphire hues, the rich spill of azure and cerulean over the black of the canvas, a slice of cloudless skies, the crystalline haze of the ocean. 

And because you can recognize and dissect the character of a person through the shapes and colors of their eyes, (you know that sounds weird, and vaguely disturbing, even inside your head)- you know his eyes are the eyes of someone trustworthy, the eyes of a caring, friendly person- not the usually jaded, maybe even angry individual you usually encounter on these late night shifts.

(It's… refreshing, in a sense. Sort of, anyway. At least he's not glaring at you, impatiently grinding his teeth as you check his things out, or radiating the stifling aura of someone intimidating and not to be trifled with (like that Yakuza man with the cold, golden eyes that you met last week, but you digress), like the usual pew of customers that trickle in at this time of the night. 

Instead, this man just looks… incredibly tired even as he manages a polite, feeble smile for you, and his skinny, frail-looking frame slumps with fatigue, like he's particularly world-weary today- as though the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders, heavy with a burden no-one but himself could possibly bear. 

There are purple shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks are sunken in, and there's a certain hollowness to the way his sunflower-hued bangs veils his thin, tired face, a certain resignation to the way the sharp planes of his shoulders are hunched together, as he droops tiredly, looking like he's about to black out at any given moment.) 

His eyes- those bright forget-me-not blues- they're the eyes of someone bright and cheerful (just… not right now), the eyes of a soft, caring person. They hold true kindness in them- the rare sort of kindness that's genuinely heartfelt, and you can already tell that this tall, lanky skeleton of a man has a big, big heart, and honestly, you have a shrewd feeling that he offers this silent gift of kindness- this unaffordable, rich gift of anyone and everyone who needs it. 

And without even knowing this stranger, you just know he's the type of person who'd make a good hero. (Or maybe, the sort of person who's already a great hero, in his own way.) But despite all that, you glimpse something below that bottomless blue of his empty gaze, something hollow and empty, almost like… 

Melancholy. Loneliness. Sadness. 

And it’s contagious, somehow, in some way or another, and your heart aches for him- because you know that feeling all too well to not be acquainted with its presence, to the agony and inner turmoil that ensues with its touch. 

The wilting look of frailty, of fragility in his lowered eyes reminds you of your own dark days- (of spending time curled in on yourself, of the constant hunger roaring through your stomach, of the gaping void of loss in your heart, the wet feel of metal flooding your mouth, of screaming and screaming and screaming for a help that never came-!) 

You blink back the sudden bitter sting of memories flooding your mind, and you stare absently at him- at this poor, broken ghost of a man and wonder if this is how you once looked- once upon a time when you lost everything and everyone and had no more purpose to live, and his items suddenly goes limp in your hand as you lower them to the surface of the counter. The words spill out before you can stop them- hold them back, and for some reason, they taste sour on your tongue as you unconsciously murmur them out loud. 

"Tristis Oculis."

The blonde startles at the sound of your voice slicing the silence apart, as though he's forgotten your presence for a moment, and then he straightens immediately, hands clenching into fists at his sides, as he goes stiff-shouldered and rigid-spined, like he's ready to be attacked. Despite the cordial smile that's still twisting his thin lips as he realizes there's only you- the entranced cashier behind the counter, there's a wary look in those tundra blue eyes as he tiredly meets your flustered gaze, but there's also confusion veiled behind the fatigue, curiosity laced behind the wariness. 

"Sorry?"

He asks mildly, and you falter, breath hitching in your chest, eyes widening in absolute horror, as you realize that you've just voiced your musings aloud, and you slap your exasperated palms over your mouth, petrified at your blunder. 

Pure and absolute mortification and embarrassment dawns on you as you realize what you'd just spoken, and you bow immediately, a hurricane of apologies falling uncontrollably from your lips, as shame weighs heavily in your chest, accompanied by the familiar stitch of gnawing guilt knitting your insides together into an uncomfortable, anxiety-induced bunch. You can feel heat rush to your face as your cheeks ignite in a wild, brilliant shade of ashamed scarlet. 

You truly are sorry sorry sorry, you really hadn't meant to offend him any sort of way, you hadn't even meant to mutter that phrase aloud, you just-... You're awkward, and not really good at this, and you're deeply sorry, you really are. Sorry sorry sorry. 

You tell him as much, your arm flailing about in wild, panicked gestures as you scrabble to bow even more deeply for apology, and you're pretty sure you've confused the poor man even more, as now he's blushing heavily too, wheezing something along the lines of "No, no, there's no need to apologize, really, it's fine!" as he forces a strained, awkward smile for your sake- an effort that doesn't go unnoticed by you, despite the terror clutching at your chest and the panic flooding your veins. 

(Really, he's too kind-hearted.)

"But really, what did you mean by that phrase? I'm not… exactly familiar with it. "

The man says, when your panic finally dies down and all formal apologies has been exchanged between the somewhat exasperated him and your horrified self, tilting his head curiously, the corners of his mouth dipping down in a small, curious frown, and despite the blush of embarrassment coloring the apples of your cheeks, you can't help but compare him to an eager puppy. An eager, adorable puppy. 

As soon as the thought forms, you snuff it out defiantly, cheeks are flaming even brighter at the- the audacity of it! He's your customer, for God's sake! 

(But really, overlooking the momentarily halted drowsiness in his lanky, skeletal limbs, the fatigue sagging his shoulders and tiredness creasing his gaunt face, he really looks… cute. Not that he doesn't look cute regardless, but that's not the point!) 

You startle nervously when you realize he's still looking at you, with those intensely blue, blue eyes, steady gaze a relentless blizzard, and you wring your hands together in a nervous tick as you begin to explain your… strangeness. 

"T-tristis Oculis. It's um," You smile awkwardly at him, hoping to ease the storm of tension rolling thickly through the atmosphere, (that apparently only you seemed to detect, as the blonde seemed too preoccupied with searching your eyes for an answer.) "It's a- um, a Latin saying. It, uh, it means sad eyes." 

You answer, stuttering around the dryness in your mouth, and you tongue feels like a heavy, unmoving weight in your mouth as you reply, fingers flexing tightly as you fist the fabric of your shirt in your clenched palms, to soothe your forever worsening anxiety, and you can feel the flush on your cheeks sear even hotter.

He stays silent, unreadable, (you get the feeling that he's normally a very expressive person, but just… not right now. Maybe you hit a nerve, or finally offended him in some way?) and you begin to panic once more. You fumble to say something, to break the awkward, heavy silence but you fail for the proper words as your mind blanks of all coherent thoughts, meek voice withering at the back of your throat as you desperately try to breathe around the knot of panic squeezing your chest, and your heart lodges in your throat, hammering wildly. 

Before you can say anything, however, he speaks first, shattering the pregnant silence, and his voice is an incredibly, deceptively soft whisper, like he's on the verge of breaking down. 

"How do you perceive my eyes as sad?"

His cobalt gaze is steady and hard- unlike the barely concealed tremors in his voice, and it pierces right through you, and as you try your very best not to shrink and fidget under the heavy weight of his gaze, you get washed by a sudden, strange sensation that feels odd in the most strangest of ways- like he's peering right into your soul. 

(But despite the firmness in his stare, you see the minute shifts, see the way he falters, the smallest of breaths hitching in his chest, the slight widening of those powder blue eyes, the edges of darkness licking at his vision. Honestly, it's tragic, in a sense, because it's like looking into a shattered mirror and seeing what had once been yourself.) 

Your heart stutters and throttles in your heaving chest, and you swallow thickly, unsure as to how to answer properly, feeling as though you're treading on very thin ice. It doesn't feel like he’s going to hurt you, however. More like how you were going to hurt him, instead. 

You're seized by a sudden melancholy, somber feeling, and you feel the embarrassment ebbing away as you meet the crystal blue of his gaze, and you feel like you're sharing something of a very private, intimate moment, despite both of you barely knowing each other at all.

You decide not to lie. This moment feels too intimate, too precious for you to do so. 

The truth is heavy and bittersweet on your tongue as you voice it aloud, and there's still a bashfulness in the way you fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you reply, cheeks flooding with crimson. (You're pretty sure you resemble nothing short of a very red tomato at this point.)

There's a note of strength, a wavering finality in your tone, however- one that leaves no room for argument. 

"You- your eyes looked sad. And I- I know it's probably offensive and probably not my place, but, um, you look like someone that's normally really happy and bright, but- just, just very tired right now. Like you're afraid and broken and you want to be helped, but there's no-one for you to call out for… "

And indeed, despite the genuine friendliness and kindness and care that's thinly veiled behind the tire brimming in the ocean blue of his gaze, he has the saddest eyes you've ever seen- like he's breathed the air of war, tasted the bitterness of death and rot- like he's lost too many people and he's afraid and too broken to lose anymore. 

(Like he's been strong for too long.) 

(There's something unsaid crossing your tongue, and despite the fact that you don't speak it out loud, you know the both of you can hear it's silent voice- because you're both survivors, and you both can recognize and understand each other's pain, hear the desperation better than anyone else ever will. 

"I know that look, because I've been there before- in that dark, dreary place you're in right now.") 

When you finally muster enough strength to raise your heavy gaze and meet his blistering stare (it's softened considerably), there's a pearlescent liquid collecting at the corners of his eyes, something raw and painful and filled with pure, unadulterated hurt smoldering in his eyes, and it makes your own eyes water with white-hot emotion.

(Because you know exactly how this feels- know how much relief and liberation fills you when someone recognizes your torment and offers help- no matter how meager it is, when your cracks are allowed to mend, when the agony lessens even if it is only by the mercy of some kind words and a gentle smile.)

And as the late evening light of the dying sun spills through the windows, the filter of waning sunlight silhouettes his sharp, lanky (not-so-stiff) profile in spools of molten gold and honey, highlighting the honeycomb color of his wild, wild mane of a hair, and his eyes, those bright, bright sapphire hues gleam like freshly cut gemstones, forget-me-not blues so very vivid and glimmering with a renewed  color and life that wasn't there before. 

He's smiling through the tears as he lifts a palm to rub at the corners of his eyes, and it's a tender, soft sort of smile, not quite as bright and cheerful as he might've wanted it to be, all sweet and appreciative and gentle as the corners of his eyes crease into half-moons with the force of it. 

(And your heart skips a beat as it lurches forward in your chest, and your breath halts, sitting still in your lungs, and your eyes widen, because his smile is so, so beautiful.) 

You suddenly realize that nobody else has noticed his pain, tried to heal his hurt the way you have, and the revelation makes your own heart ache for him in the most bittersweetest of ways, and you welcome the pain that follows. 

"And the part- the part where you said I'd make a good hero?" 

He asks, and there's sort of a hesitation- a tone of rippling hope and childish innocence in his voice that would make anyone buckle at the knees and coo at him, and you feel your cheeks flush scarlet once again. Had you mentioned that part out loud too? Gosh, you're really awkward, aren't you?

His eyes are blue, and they're brimming with a sort of childish inquisition and the rim of tears and hope that you absolutely cannot bear to crush. 

So- bearing your broadest, most brightest grin, you answer honestly, and you can't help but love the way those deep forget-me-not blues seem to light up from the inside out. 

"I fully believe it."

{BONUS}:-

(And maybe, you'll never learn the secret that the man you would come to know as Toshinori Yagi, and eventually to your best friend and then to your lover, was really the Number One Hero All Might himself, and that on that day, and many days after that, you would be his hero- the person who'd seen him at his lowest and help him climb back onto his feet once again.) 

FIN - 

[inuiiwonderland]

I’ve been away from the mha fandom for TOOOOO long (it’s been 4-5 years) but after getting spoilers from the recent chapters, I might start writing for it now

So what do we think about angst with father figure/father all might? (Guys this been on my head for WEEKS I need to let it out)

I already have a 2k worded fic in my drafts but I’m still not done with it and I’m planning on making it longer.

But if anyone is interested PLEASEEE let me know and If you want to be tagged tell me!!

I might drop a sneak peek later if you guys want

Though quick warning Im not caught up with the latest seasons so I’ll apologize if some things aren’t accurate or characters are ooc

(I’m currently rewatching mha so please don’t come for me😭��� but spoilers aren’t easy to hide from so there might be spoilers from the recent chapters on this fic!)

[oculusxcaro]

Pottering around still! Just been a little proccupied with @teethofthedeeps but I'm getting my spoons back and will start focusing on catching up elsewhere including here. Also a belated munday, not for me but R.orschach! He's growing fast now and I'm getting his tank ordered next week while the family is away... he's just had his enclosure cleaned out, with lots of fresh new bedding plus some treats from today's morning walk with the dog. Fresh bit of wood, some flowers and fallen leaves makes for a happy snake!

[octoooo]

Very bored on the drive back to my university so have some phone doodles

SabiBun au