#but only bc the cupping his face thing ... it makes me weak i can admit it

[iinterstellars]

thomas realized very quickly that he had underestimated just how hurt he truly was. all the exhaustion finally caught up to him as soon as he sat down and tried to take a deep breath, and with it came aches he had never even felt before. if it wasn't for her hand on his cheek, somehow GROUNDING him, making his heartbeat spike and forcing his mind to think about her only ( and how beautiful she looked despite everything going on at once ) he thinks he'd be reacting a lot worse than he is. " i know it's not that bad... i'm alright, defne... just got unlucky... " his voice comes out soft, maybe a little bit strained but that's only because he's trying to control his own breathing, truthfully, it felt ODD to be on this side of an examination. he's never been accident prone, can't even remember the last time he hurt himself on accident; now here he was all bruised and bloodied. all he wanted to do was close his eyes for a second and sleep, he would've too, if it wasn't for defne and the panic he could hear in her voice. " hey, hey, ok. take a deep breath, i know how it looks... i'm bleeding quite a bit, i can feel it. doesn't mean i'm dying, alright? i'm ok. " just to really get his point across he carefully grabs one of her hands and moves it towards his neck, presses her fingers right on top of his pulse point. it's steady and strong, the way it should be. " see? i'm not going anywhere. just breathe. " once then twice, he takes slow controlled deep breaths trying to encourage her to do the same; biting down the pain he feels shooting from his ribs just because he doesn't want to see her all agitated when she shouldn't be. he lets go of her hand when he thinks she seems a little less panicky and sits up straight while chuckling softly at her remark. " can't really do anything about my height but... i can walk you through what to do. let's do it slowly, alright? " he's not exactly sure if he likes the fact that she's kneeling in front of him but he realizes it's probably the ONLY WAY she can comfortably look at him. " you're right, disinfectant first. i checked earlier and the wound wasn't too deep so just cleaning it should be fine. " to make things easier for her he grabs the bottle of disinfectant and pours a generous amount in a clean gauze, then hands it to her. " it does actually hurt a little so be gentle when you get close to the cut. " thomas lets out a soft sigh, the alcohol was long gone from his system but he could already tell he was going to have a killer headache in the morning. " i'm honestly not sure how i even got hit in the head... " he confesses in a low voice, it all happened so fast he can't even remember properly.

WHEN THEIR EYES CONNECT , defne swears she can feel a cosmic shift between them . she swears their eyes hold for a second longer and he's looking at her differently . but maybe it's wishful thinking . maybe it's the adrenaline . maybe it's because he's literally bleeding from the head . defne gives her head one swift shake to push herself out of the thought process that has successfully led her nowhere for a few months now . however , she holds his gaze for long enough that when he exhales and winces , her hand goes to his chest , protectively . " thomas . " defne breathes his name out like it was made for her mouth . it's not a warning , it's not anything except a simple : i see you and you're not okay . you don't have to pretend with me . " yes , of course. " she reaches down easily and snatches up the medicine satchel quickly , zipping it up and hoisting it over her shoulder . she tries not to look too worried . she tries not to look at thomas again . she tries to remind herself it's ok , he's ok . HE'S ALIVE . she just needs to keep him that way .

as thomas gently crouches down beside the other bleeding man , defne exhales , eyes flicking to and from the other guy who lets out a wry chuckle as his eyes squint as thomas . ' got me good , doc . . . yet you're still out here showing us up , looking like a model even with blood all over your face . . . man . ' defne allows her lips to quirk up that , in silent agreement , but also relieved because if this man can joke right now then he's going to be ok , as well . she feels a relief sink inside of her , settle right into her bones . it isn't as loud outside , inside , or in her head anymore . she tries not to correlate this all to thomas now standing beside her . instead , defne crouches too , but stays back to now overcrowd thomas and the bleeding man . she silently hands over the items , her hands still with a tremor to them , but not nearly as bad as they were a few moments again . defne notices , though, the tightening in thomas' voice . the way his words fade towards the end of the sentence , as he gently speaks and soothes the guy , or instructs defne for something new from the kit . she tries to pretend she isn't worried , tries to focus on the task at hand , but everyone else is ok . everyone is taken care of . EVERYONE EXCEPT THOMAS . defne grabs up the bloody bandages and cleaning products and shoves them hastily back in her bag , immediately straightening up at the same time that thomas does , her hands going out to help stable him , JUST IN CASE . " come on , you model . " she teases softly , her hands go to his waist , which is ridiculous because he towers over her - but she wants him to lean against her if it helps right now , and gently navigates them to the quieter space of the library , where a few chairs are scattered and a table sits , between rows and rows of abandoned books . carefully , she lowers him down there , her breath slowing as she does , anticipating another wince or a hitch of breath that reveals hidden pain .

defne swallows thickly as she draws back to look at him . before she can stop herself, her hands gently go to his cheek , cupping it , her eyes searching his . " it's not that bad . " she's moreso telling herself than him . another shoot of panic rushes through her . SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO . defne chews on her bottom lip , eyes moving to his head , and the wound matted with blood into his hair , dripping down his face . " tell me where it hurts . " she tries to think , to collect herself , but already hesitates . " i - i should treat your head first , right ? head wounds can be the worst . and then . . then i'll . . . move to the rest of you . " a flush colours her cheeks because she never thought the first time she'd see thomas shirtless would be because he needs serious medical help and she'd be left floundering . BEGGARS CAN'T BE CHOOSERS . defne swallows again , closing her eyes for a second , trying to remember how thomas would treat this . if thomas was here . . but he IS here . he's the one in front of her , when she always thought he'd be the one BESIDE her instead. her hands move away from his cheeks to the medic kit , which she unzips too quickly . a few items knock down and fall out , causing her to curse and bend over , almost knocking right into where thomas sits . SLOW DOWN , DEFNE , she tries to command herself - but the fear is coming back thrice as worse . " fuck - i - hey ! " she raises her voice . " eyes open . yeah ? on me . keep - keep them on me . " defne is pretty sure that's the important part here . " come on , doc . this is like , a teaching moment , right ? so you need to stay awake , so you can teach me . " she swipes up the items she knocked down , before moving closer to thomas again . it's an awkward angle , with him on the chair , yet still at eye level with her . defne doesn't even hesitate before going on her knees , kneeling in front of him , so she can see him better . " you're too fucking tall . " she breathes out , with a small , terrified laugh . " disinfectant ? or - or should i check your pulse ? your vitals ? your eyes ? " TELL ME WHAT TO DO , TELL ME HOW TO HELP YOU . TELL ME . TELL ME . TELL ME .

[gojoest]

SORRY FOR THE INCOMING GOJOHIME BORDERLINE RESENTMENT VENT!!

Firstly I totally agree with the fact that people can ship and make headcanons of whoever they want but shoving it constantly into your face and twisting geges storyline,character and words to be something fitting for their delusional asses is where I draw the line and hence my vent;

I hate it so much oh my god the ship is honestly sooo retarded coming from fans who force something that isn’t ever there into this “enemies to lovers relationship they have” or saying that they hatefuck in the canon setting like what????

It is explicitly mentioned in the official fanbook that Utahime hates gojo there’s literally no way around it. Proof being if you liked/loved someone or even considered them your friend you wouldn’t throw a scalding cup of tea at them, if gojo didn’t have infinity he would’ve gotten seriously injured. Also her behavior is kindaaa understandable considering gojo annoys the heck outta her and calls her weak in a profession where it’s really insulting but then again he’s not lying lol

They also have a strictly professional relationship where they MUST work and have mutual trust and reliance for their students to grow as sorcerers and put aside any resentments or beef. Yes they’ve known each other for like a decade but they also have very few interactions due to being in different locations and as a sorcerer you don’t have time for anything besides sorcery (proof being gojos tight schedule and only getting 3 hours of sleep) Theres almost no chemistry and their personalities also don’t mesh well I would rather ship her with nanami/shoko who she can tolerate being around. Gojo is more of a younger annoying sibling who bothers his older sister for shits and giggles

Also the shippers outrightly denying geges official claims of her hatred is so stupid to me like yes gojo thinks they’re joking or bantering but that can show that he’s socially awkward and doesn’t acknowledge social cues and how to interact (due to his upbringing ) and saying that they’re married behind closed doors and etc is so inane to me like what????

Also he annoys most stoic ppl; Nanami, megumi and utahime. Not just her, she just shows emotions while others don’t which keeps him going to draw reactions from someone so stoic and uptight. Also she’s not a tsundere, she just genuinely hates him

Overall gojo doesn’t really gaf about weak sorcerers or her especially since they’re only coworkers at the end of the day who must work in the same field together to ensure their students grow and surpass them. End of discussion and there’s no way around it

Hoping this doesn’t bother you, needed to get it off my chest lol

thank you for sharing your thoughts with me! i must admit that i mostly agree with you, gojohime ship makes no sense to me whatsoever and i’ve talked about this before. like you said the only vibe they give off is that of quarreling siblings AHAHAH when gege said that she hates him i didn’t interpret “hate” in the literal sense of the word, i don’t think she harbors malicious feelings towards him but more like having very low tolerance for his antics and personality in general like she truly can’t stand him bc he is quite annoying and arrogant which is understandable if we also add the constant mocking on satoru’s end, but at the same time she trusts and relies on him on a professional level, and she is cooperative with his requests when there is danger imposing. i think satoru trusts her too, after all if he didn’t he wouldn’t have discussed the plausibility of a mole with her and asked her to investigate (which she did). but that’s all, there’s not even a tiny hint of romance there but what do i know. which doesn’t mean ppl can’t ship characters that aren’t romantically compatible in canon, ofc they can! but there are healthy ways of enjoying things without being toxic and forcing the fruit of your imagination to others as a fact

[nemeseos-noctua]

God I love your work so much?? You guys are amazing .

Can I request how Albedo, Xiao and Diluc react to their s/o pushing them away in attempt to keep them safe from danger? (Eg they may be the traveller who is connected with the fatui and the abyss aand therefore fears for their s/o's safety.

Tysm!! I love your guys' writing style. requesting this specifically bc it's not fair Xiao gets to be to edgy one all the time in the fics🙄 how does it feel to get pushes away now loverboy? (/j!! I love him just thought this prompt would be a neat inversion).

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: albedo, xiao, diluc (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not proofread, blood, mentions albedos story (spoilers), xiao story spoilers, reader is not traveler

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: hehe tysm!! ALSO 100% haha i LOVEEE xiao but yk he be a lil stingy when it comes to safety! i want to tuck him in and tell him it’ll be alright 😔😔

during your travels across teyvat, you have encountered far more fatui and abyss mages than you’d care to count

and some of which— had some, err, not so kind grudges against you

these grudges were so serious that you began to worry for albedo’s safety. you personally did not care for blood staining your hands nor soul—but if that blood was albedo’s... oh boy

so, coming to a conclusion... you decided on the inevitable: keep albedo at arm’s length—for your heart and his

and, it worked. for a month, it worked. your visits to his camp in dragonspine lessened, your chaste kisses and morning voice left his life like... regrettably, his master

Staring up at the whirling winds of Dragonspine, Albedo’s teal eyes trailed over the ice, wishing to see a familiar silhouette among its blizzard.

He had been counting. It has been five days, two minutes, and 54 seconds since you last visited him—

Hah, just kidding. He didn’t count—but it has been five days.

Where were you? Maybe you were busy—the alchemist knew you had a life outside of—well, him. 

It was unfair of him to be impatient, for you had been nothing short of patient towards him. But still, his heart longs and yearns for your touches, his head feels cold without your fingers twisting through his silky blonde hair. 

Dragonspine was cold, but without you, it was colder.

he’d eventually head back down to mondstadt, solely for the purpose of finding you

his mind got the best of him as he spiraled into a brief insanity. maybe he did something to make you mad? maybe you were injured, recovering without his aid? so many questions spinning around his head he almost missed the sight of your [e/c] eyes

“[Y/N]—“ Albedo’s voice cut through the crowds of Mondstadt as the alchemist rushed forward. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, desperation taking over him as he reached a hand out for you.

“Albedo...?” You stopped in your tracks, taking in the sight of your boyfriend’s unruly hair and tired eyes. His lips were still purple—as if he had come back down from Dragonspine recently.

“Where were you?” The alchemist asked, his gloved hand wrapped around your wrist delicately, his eyes scanning all over you as to check whether you were injured or not.

“Ah... I was—adventuring,” You sweatdropped, the coldness of his gloves stinging your wrist, your eyes wide at how cold he was.

he doesn’t believe you—hah. of course he doesn’t, albedo is a genius in fields he wishes to study

he knows you too well to fall for your mindless responses or excuses, he knows your eyes too well to succumb to the smile on your lips or kindness in your touch

he knows, he knows he knows he knows—so why? what are you hiding? why are you hiding? from him of all people?

everyone has secrets—albedo is aware, for he has his own share. but please, can’t you spare his heart? just this once?

“Tell me the truth, [Y/N],” Albedo asked—no, begged. He wanted to know what kept you so far from his reach, what stopped you from visiting him or loving him or just being with him. Was he the problem? Was this the end of your love?

“I...” You looked away, tugging the alchemist against the current of the crowds, seeking an area for just the two of you.

And once you found it, you pulled the blonde into a hug. The coldness of his coat didn’t faze you, nor did the way his eyes widened or the way his arms hesitantly wrapped back around you.

“I don’t want someone like you to get involved with me, Albedo. You’re...” You looked away, your face still buried into the alchemist’s shoulder. 

“... A weakness. You’re a weakness that’ll be used against me.”

albedo is in utter disbelief

he—you—what?!

he’s... your weakness?

albedo doesn’t know whether to be flattered or hurt. he knows you have a dangerous job, he knows about the amount of letters you receive threatening him or you, he knows what you’re doing is for the better...

but—he cannot allow it. he wants to hold you without regrets, he wants to kiss you and eat lunch with you at good hunter...

“[Y/N],” Albedo breathed, cupping your cheeks in the palm of his hands as he stared violently into your eyes. Gaze softening, he couldn’t bring it in himself to scold you for all the worries you brought him to.

“I promise you—that even if Fatui and Abyss Mages disrupt my alchemy, I promise that I want to get involved with you—I, I want to be with you.”

His heart, it wants so much, it wants to have you, it wants to love you.

So please—won’t you let him do that? 

xiao also has many people out for his throat

well, i suppose... the difference between those ‘people’ and your ‘people’ is the fact that xiao’s debts are owed to the dead

the whispers, the screams, the agony. it plagues every part of his mind, like a melody with no beat, like an endless tune that he will hear for the rest of time

and you—you’re like, the charm. the ward and sigil that scares away all of those demons. you’re the sunshine that seeps through the cracks of caves

and now... you’re drifting. like a ship at sea, he wonders... will you be back?

regrettably—you think—maybe, maybe... you won’t return

What is this? The third week Xiao has sat atop the roof of Wangshu Inn? Hoping mindlessly to hear your steps up the staircase?

Hah. Is this who he has become? An adeptus who waits for a mortal like you to come, an adeptus who should be defending Liyue, and yet, here he is.

he’s a bit... put off

like. who are you to make him feel this way, mortal? (derogatory) 

he doesn’t want to admit it... but... he misses you. there! he said it. he misses you. now can you come back, please?

he knows, he knows he is not the best lover... that he is blunt, enigmatic, and sometimes... rude. but— but you, you accept him for that

and he ponders atop the roof of wangshu inn—perhaps, was this ignoring scheme long overdue? have you finally grown tired of him and all of his karma? have you found someone better—someone you can love you, hold you, and care for you like you deserve?

he hopes—the answer is no

but he knows... the answer is probably yes

“Oh, [Y/N]! You’re back!” Verr Goldet’s hushed voice ran through the adeptus mind as his form shot up almost instantly. Staring down from his position on the roof, his yellow eyes stared over at your familiar form, your [e/c] eyes and vision that dangled from your hip.

“Haha, sorry about that.” 

You smiled, but Xiao didn’t miss the way you winced upon doing so. Your arms and legs were wrapped with bandages, dried splotches of red and clothing as messy as could be.

“Your room is upstairs, sleep well,” Verr Goldet nodded knowingly, a bittersweet grin on her face as her mind flickered to the thought of Xiao and his shortening temper.

once you step out onto the balcony, you do not need to look to see who has appeared beside you

“Hello, Xiao!” You say openly, arms outstretched for a hug as the adeptus merely stared at you. Three weeks. Three weeks without you, three weeks too many—and here you were, opening your arms like you had just returned back from an hour long trip.

“ . . . “ Staying silent, Xiao could only cross his arms, glaring at you with mixed emotions. He was relieved to see you back and ‘happy’, but still, he was frustrated and irritated at the way you behaved so recklessly.

“You owe me an expla—“

“—nation,” You finished for the male, an exasperated smile gracing your features as you turned over to the balcony, the setting moon and proud stars soaring like the birds of Mondstadt.

“I was... dealing with some encounters,” Your tone was laced with a malice even he wasn’t expecting, the number of bandages scouring your skin finally making sense as his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Fatui? Tell me where they are, I wi—“

“No.”

Turning over to him fully, Xiao’s breath hitched. Ugh, again—you and your pretty smile and charming features. The simplest things you do made him go insane like the karmic debts that flourished through his mind.

“You can’t get involved, Xiao. They will only go after you. I returned here today to tell you that I’ll be going off for three month—“

“What?” The Yaksha breathed in disbelief. Did he hear right? Were you seriously leaving again?! 

“I said, I am leaving again... Xiao. It’s not you—Celestia no... it’d never be you. It’s just...” You looked around, to anywhere, anyone but him. If you glanced at him now, chances are you’d succumb to his sunny eyes and stay back at Wangshu Inn. 

“... The Fatui. I got on their wanted list and—I don’t want them to use you against me. So I’ll go out and get rid of them, and I’ll be ba—“

“No.”

It was his turn to decline, for he didn’t want to hear anything you had to say. You got on the Fatui’s wanted list?! What?! He...

He was going to kill them. 

“Do you think I am weak, [Y/N]? Eons of slaughter and—“ 

“Xiao!” You facepalmed, raising your voice slightly at the male as he blinked, taken aback that you, a mortal would ever thing of committing such a heinous crime towards a divine being like him.

“You’re not weak! It’s just... I’m weak. And if they find you, they could just threaten me with everything they’d do to you! Even if nothing happened at all...” Your voice died down, your heart hammering against your chest as Xiao’s eyes softened.

Xiao was—speechless. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Nobody had ever thought of him so kindly before, neither have they ever treated him as something other than a weapon of war.

So, he vowed. Like the night Rex Lapis found him all those millennia ago, like the night he broke free from the chains of manipulation—he vowed, time and time again—

“I will protect you, [Y/N]. For there is no need to protect me.”

[internal screaming]

diluc, of all people, no longer is afraid of ‘grudges’ or ‘debts’ owed to the fatui or abyss order. he dances with evil, masquerading each night for his life

and now, the only light in his world full of darkness, the only fire in the cold icy winds...

left

you left. you left with a little note saying you’d be back in what—five months?

a part of him was... shocked. it was surprised at how abrupt it was. one moment, the two of you were laying in bed, cradling each others’ forms. and the next? you were gone

the other part of him was... worried. did you want to leave him? what was this about? did you owe debt to the fatui? you could’ve told him, he would’ve payed for it all in a heartbeat

but diluc of mondstadt—hah, he was not known for stepping down so easily. so until he figures out why you left so suddenly, he is not stopping his search for the truth

and once he so happens to run into lumine and asks the traveler where you’ve been—he’s shocked

at first, he thinks lumine must me mistaken. what? what do you mean “[y/n] is heading out to fight the abyss herald”, you’re kidding... haha...

(lumine swore she saw her life flash before her eyes when diluc wrapped his head around the news)

diluc feels a bit... guilty. he feels guilty that he didn’t know sooner, he feels guilty that the abyss order is bothering you like how it bothers him, he feels guilty for everything

Wiping some blood that spilled from the corner of your mouth, you grimaced at the metallic taste. 

What was it? Err... day five? This was the first Abyss Herald you have encountered so far, and you could only assume it was the first of many.

Standing up, you sheathed your weapon. Your vision glowed brightly in the darkness of the ruins, the moon illuminating the way out as you sighed, pulling yourself across the stone cold floor.

As you trudged outside and into the moonlight, a twig cracked under a foot that wasn’t yours, prompting you to reach out and materialize your weapon, charging it with power from your vision.

“Who?”

Stepping out from the trees, your eyes widened at a sight you hadn’t expected to see—at least, expected to see this soon.

“Diluc?” You breathed, heaving a sigh of relief as the male took no notice to your words, instead, his vermilion eyes traced over your battered form, his eyes worrying even more with each glance he spared.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, rushing up to you as he pulled out some bandages, wrapping them around your wounds so he could get you back to the winery.

pushing yourself away from his grasp, diluc watched in hurt as you kept him away from your figure

“i couldn’t—i didn’t want you to get involved,” you mumbled guiltily, looking away from the male as his eyes seemed to berate you silently

“me involved? what do you mean?” diluc asks in disbelief. he of all people should be the one telling you that

“the abyss. i got in a tumble with them and now they’re after my blood,” you murmured, only causing diluc’s heart to pound even louder in his chest, his brain flickering to unpleasant memories as he rushed up to you, securely placing his hands on your shoulders

He’s... speechless. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He’s usually the one keeping people at arms-length—yet here you were, stealing his lines and his worries.

“I...” Diluc paused, trying to form words, and yet, nothing came to mind.

“...”

Silence. It filled the ambience and your hearts, yet, it was not the same silence in the abyss, nor was it the same silence before a nightmare.

It was a silence of awe, a silence that you’d hear before a firework would shoot up in the sky—it was calming, a relaxing wave like a seashell pressed against your ear.

A silent love—like the one you and Diluc shared. An unsung melody that played in the beat of your hearts, the breaths of the wind...

A silent promise, like a marriage or a confession, a promise to—

“I will be by your side, [Y/N]. No matter what.”

Through thick and thin, cold and warm, there is nothing but you two, two lovers against the darkness, dancing with ghosts and evil.

— constellations! 💫

[gallickingun]

break the glass {in case of emergency} || t.s.

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto needs help, so he hires a nanny. More specifically, he hires you. 

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Shouto x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 21.2k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the definition of a labor of love. big thanks to @k-atsukidayo, @freckledoriya, and @lady-bakuhoe for keeping me sane. and super shoutout to my love @shoutogepi bc she’s been my hype lady! i hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations because wow has it been a wild ride ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Shouto’s feet are trudging through the proverbial thick of life.

His ankles twist the further he tries to advance, and with every step forward, another tragedy breaks the fragility of the glass box he now lives in. The etching begins at the center, spreading out into cracks like lightning, threatening to shatter what remains of the clear cage.

And yet, Shouto must put on the mask, he must pretend that everything is fine when in fact he really would rather crumble to the floor with his hands in his hair. There are nights when he presses his palms into his temples, wishing and praying that someone out there might be listening so they can help him to will away the painful throbbing between his eyes. He can’t whimper, can’t make a sound, because if he does, if he withdraws the curtain and allows the world to know how inundated he truly is, then it will all be for naught.

“Daddy?”

Shouto blinks harshly to bring himself out of the vortex of his trepid thoughts, “Hey, love, what are you doing awake?”

Her teetering body scrambles into the room, pawing at the bedsheets as a broken sob parts her lips and shakes her chest. Shouto leans down to tuck his hands under her armpits, jolting her upward so she’s pressed into his chest. Her small hands grip onto the skin of his pectorals, thin fingernails scraping at his flesh. Shouto winces, but cradles her around the back regardless, the warmth of her heated cheek on his collarbone alarming.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asks, soothing one of his hands through her hair while the other rests splayed against her back, dipping gently to try and ease her crying. She doesn’t answer, hiccupping cries making her whole body shake as she clutches onto him.

“Hey,” Shouto presses his lips to the crown of her head before coaxing her head backward. He tucks his thumb underneath her chin, “Talk to me.”

The little girl’s lower lip is wobbling, eyes doe-like and full of tears, thick white eyelashes dense with the little saltine droplets. She palms at Shouto’s face with one hand, seeming ancient when she whispers, “Why did they take mommy from me?”

And just like that, the glass box shatters.

Shouto feels the explosion, but maintains his composure regardless of the impact. Shards lodge into his throat and lungs, painful twinges jutting into his insides. His voice feels jagged when he speaks next, grating against his esophagus and tongue, “Sometimes the world just isn’t fair, love. I wish I had a better answer for you, but there’s not always a perfect explanation.”

Her bejeweled turquoise eyes behold him, thumbs against his mouth as she stares up at him. Glassy irises are blown wide by frightened pupils, “I miss her.”

She collapses back into him like a star shattering in the galaxy, explosive tears dripping down his chest as she tremors. The implosion of her life plays before him in the form of an empty half of the bed, a bare side of the bathroom, and a nightstand still left unembellished despite having been there for almost two years.

“I miss her too,” Shouto murmurs into the child’s silvery hair.

If he sheds a few silent tears of his own, she does not admonish him for it, instead laying quietly until her tears and shaking sobs have exhausted her tiny body. Her lips part and she begins to drool into the pocket of his collarbone, hands twitching against his chest.

A gentle melody vibrates Shouto’s lungs as he rolls himself to the side, carefully displacing her from his body to the empty half of the bed. The toddler grabs for him as soon as the warmth of his body disappears, and Shouto focuses all of his energy into regulating the warmth of his left side. He brushes his thumb over her cheek, pushing her silken hair from her mouth so it does not stick with her drool.

He chuckles, tucking her locks behind her ear, cupping her cheek with his warm palm, “Good night, Hana.”

The only acknowledgement he receives is a gentle snore that flares her nostrils and expands her chest, small body only looking tinier in the large expanse of the king-sized bed. Shouto lies there in wonder, his heated hand keeping in contact with her body until she halts her shivering.

How did I get so lucky? He thinks to himself, the threat of tears pressing intensely against the backs of his eyelids. He can’t close them, though, because he’s afraid he might miss a moment of his daughter’s sorrow.

Shouto leans forward to press a kiss to her furrowed brow, the familiar weight of his lips on her head giving her the comfort she needs to release the tension in her sleep. Her expression mellows, the crinkles in her forehead smoothing until she looks something akin to peaceful, ethereal.

The last thing Shouto sees before his mind succumbs to the lure of unconsciousness is her silvery hair glistening in the moonlight of the bedroom, her tiny palm wrapped around his index finger, clutching on like he were her lifeline.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I can handle this on my own.”

“This isn’t just another assignment. This is your daughter, Shouto.”

His nostrils flare, “Yeah, and?”

Fuyumi rolls her eyes, containing herself by taking a deep breath through the nose. Shouto’s eyes wander as Hana teeters around the kitchen with a few crayons and a plush rabbit.

“There’s no reason to keep yourself from admitting you need help, Shouto,” Fuyumi grits her teeth and attempts to appear somehow cheerful, even if just for Hana’s sake. She flexes her jaw, “This is an insanely large house, brother. You could use the extra hands.”

Shouto narrows his eyes, the scar over his left side appearing even more intimidating when his expression shifts, “You’re not moving in here, ‘Umi. I’ll figure something else out.”

His sister runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head as she turns her attention to the toddler bobbing her head to an invisible jukebox as she colors another page in her book. Fuyumi licks her lips, “Listen, will you at least call her? She’s great with kids, and she’s between jobs right now. It could at least turn into a short-term benefit for the both of you.”

After a moment of aggressive silence, Shouto nods. He decides, internally, that his agreement is purely out of the recognition that it will force his sister to let the topic rest.

“I’ll call her.”

“Thank you,” Fuyumi’s chest deflates, releasing a pent-up breath she had been holding in unexpectedly. She sifts her fingers through Hana’s hair, thumbing at her ear gingerly, “I know you hate that I loom over you like another mother, but I just want to make sure that you’re both taken care of.”

Shouto’s expression softens, eyes turning from jeweled beads to something more pliable. His chest tightens at her admission, the reality of their situation doing nothing to lighten the burden on his shoulders. He takes a step towards his sister, praying she can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, “I’ll be okay, ‘Umi. I promise.”

Fuyumi allows herself a moment to take in the sight of Shouto’s twenty-one month old child, watching as she scribbles her crayons onto the coloring book in front of her with as much precision as she can muster. A somber smile tugs on her lips and she sighs, closing her eyes as she readjusts her glasses, “I just worry about you, is all. Taking over a large agency is a lot of work, especially with the added pressure of being a good father.”

“I will be a good father,” Shouto is quick to refute her lofty accusations, the intensity of his voice causing Hana to turn her attention from her book to her father. He narrows his eyes at his sister, “I won’t turn out like dad.”

Holding her hands up in mock-surrender, Fuyumi takes a step back, “I know, Shouto. Trust me, I know.” Her eyes are wide and Shouto feels fear grip his spine like a cold shadow, curling up into him and suffocating his throat. He wants to gasp but he cannot show weakness, not now. Fuyumi inhales a short breath, “You’re the furthest thing from our father. Which is why I think you should seriously consider reaching out, getting another pair of hands on deck.”

Shouto considers her, tilting his head. The implications that his ability at caring for his daughter makes his chest constrict, heart aching in a way he’s never felt before. His eyes dart downward, catching on the silver hair of his child as she sits on the floor, grubby hands gripping at crayons while she smears color all over the pages of her book.

“I’ll call her,” he repeats his words from earlier. “I will.”

Fuyumi reaches out to take her brother into a hug, breathing her peaceful nature onto him like a ghost begging to infiltrate his body. Shouto takes a long drag, lips parted when he wraps his arms around his sister’s smaller frame.

As his sister is leaving, Hana’s eyes focus on the door. Todoroki can’t help himself wonder for a moment if she believes that someone else might come walking back across the threshold, if only she were to look at just the perfect moment. The sun shines on Fuyumi’s figure, forcing a silhouette onto the floorboards of the entryway. If he were to squint the right way, it’s possible he could see her outline there, darkness shaped by the light.

Shouto must bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mind still.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Later that evening, when Shouto has his daughter resting in the crook of his arm, an educational children’s program playing on the television for background noise, he pulls his phone from his pocket to sift through text messages and emails. There are dozens of alerts to sort through, but the one thing his fingers keep returning to is the sight of your contact information in a message forwarded to him by his sister.

If you are every as bit as wonderful and kind as Fuyumi says you are, then Shouto is frightened of what you are capable of, based on your resume and photograph alone.

Not only do you have a stunning personality – caring, gentle, organized – but you have a beautiful outward appearance as well. Shouto notices the curve of your lips, the structure of your jaw and cheeks, and the way your eyes lilt upward at the camera.

The one thing Shouto hates the most about himself, the very being engrained within him to emulate, is that he was brought up worrying about these different kinds of things – the anatomy of a potential candidate.

It’s the Todoroki within him, the lurking presence of his father threatening to stifle his breathing, to suffocate him until Enji is the only glowing ember left in his charred, desolate soul. Shouto sits in the dark, the looming reality that he may very well end up exactly like his father forcing him to press the little green button at the bottom of the screen.

You pick up on the second ring, “Hello?”

“H-Hi there,” Shouto’s voice sticks in his throat.

A gentle laugh from the other end of the line makes his heart stop beating within the confines of his chest, “What can I do for you?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Shouto has never been so worried about the interior design of his house before.

He realizes suddenly that there are no photographs on the walls, no pictures hanging to tell the sad tale of his life story. The recognition of this little detail only further throws him into a darkness he knows he won’t ever be able to fully crawl out of. Every day he must fight this beast, this unseen presence that sits on his shoulders, forcing him to carry the burden. He’s never wanted to tell his life story, not with the way it played out, especially not now.

Abusive father. Hospitalized mother. Deceased wife.

When the doorbell rings, he pulls himself from his stupor to step forward into the foyer. Shouto takes a deep breath and curls his toes into the rug to ground his body as he turns the doorknob. It’s as if the door stands for something much weightier, a distance currently built between you and him, something he can control.

But when the heavy door gives way to the sunshine outside, your body casting an elongated shadow on the hardwood, Shouto’s ankles lock and his fingers still against metal.

“Todoroki Shouto?”

The sound of your voice, completely unadulterated from the natural static of a phone, makes Shouto’s head spin. He nods, swallowing so hard his throat bobs, “Yes, please come in.”

You kick your shoes off as soon as you step across the threshold, tucking them to the side near the other pairs of dress shoes and sneakers accompanied by little ballerina slip-ons and tiny formal shoes. He notices the way your eyes linger on the pink ballerina slippers that aren’t really shoes at all, more like glorified socks, and he has to hold back a chuckle.

Shouto raises his hand in a greeting, kicking the door closed with his ankle as he turns to face you, “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I appreciate you interviewing me,” you answer him, reaching forward to meet his handshake. You’re grinning when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks round with your smile. “I know that your schedule is very hectic.”

Shouto can’t think about it too much or it makes his brain throb within his skull. He grits his teeth, “Yes, my assistant was able to push out a few other unimportant meetings for this. I do apologize, but my daughter is currently with my sister. I thought it may be best for us to meet first and then decide if it will be a good fit before we introduce her into the situation.”

“I can respect that.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your waist as you stand in front of him. The surprising warmth from his hand sits with you, palm tingling even as it’s tucked between your body. A nervous laugh parts your lips as your feet shuffle, “I wouldn’t want to get too attached to her if you didn’t like me.”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes darting to his toes, “Oh, it’s not you I would be afraid of being incompatible. Hana can be very picky.”

Your thumbs dig into your biceps, rolling your lips together as you consider your reply. A soft padding forward of your feet on the dense rug makes little sound, but still breaks Todoroki’s gaze from the floor.

“You’d be surprised,” your left eye dropping in a wink. “I have quite the effect on people. Especially those who stand three feet and shorter.”

He is shocked to find himself grinning at your jesting remark, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shuffles a step backward from you. You tilt your head, eyes washing over his tall frame, “I’ve been doing this a long time, Mr. Todoroki. Usually children are withdrawn from their caretakers because they fear we’re trying to replace someone more important in their lives.”

You are closer to him now as you stride across the tile. Todoroki feels his chest constrict when you speak, “I’m not here to be anything more than supplemental. You set the boundaries, Mr. Todoroki, and those are what I will abide by without a shadow of a doubt. I’m here to do as much or as little as you need of me.”

It takes him a moment to recuperate, faltering before he replies, “I appreciate that. I-I’ve never done this before. I wasn’t planning on it.”

Shouto notices the way you visibly shrink away from him, understanding the subliminal tones in his words. He holds a hand in the air, palm face-up, “No, that’s not, I just-”

A sigh parts his lips and he looks back down at his feet, but you’re careening forward to save the day before he can dig himself further into a hole he’s already drowning in. You chuckle, “I don’t think many people choose to have children only to set them into the hands of a nanny, Mr. Todoroki. You needed help, that much is clear, and I don’t blame you for reaching out. I think being able to push through your pride and do what is best for your child is not something you should be ashamed of.”

Oh yes, Todoroki thinks to himself with a smirk on his lips, hand outstretched towards you again, He’s going to like you just fine.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

You did not imagine your initial meeting with Todoroki Hana to go like this.

Shouto’s voice is mildly frantic on the other line, which is telling in it of itself. Even upon your first meeting, you knew that he was to be a mild-mannered, easy-going man. He does not seem to be a person who is easily upset by much, so the lilt in his voice is a clear indicator to his mood.

“It’s okay,” you try to remain calm in spite of his fear, praying that your clear head can help him to unwind. “I’m sure she’s fine, Mr. Todoroki. I’m already in the car, on the way to the daycare right now. I’ll go pick her up and call you as soon as I have my eyes on her.”

A breath is exhaled from the other end of the receiver, and you can imagine the way his chest deflates at your words. You smile to yourself, phone pressed to your ear as you drive down the highway, “It will only take me twenty minutes. Until then, try to keep yourself busy, okay?”

The two of you exchange pleasantries before you close your phone, slipping it back underneath your thigh before focusing on the road again. You were thankful that Shouto had already installed a car seat into back row, allowing you to go pick up Hana without having to do too much extra preparation.

Driving to the daycare facility takes eighteen minutes on one stretch of highway. You feel your palms sweat the entire way, recalling Todoroki’s words about Hana’s injuries she sustained on the playground not very long ago. The tremor in his voice sent a jolt down your spine, your bones rattling around in your body as you imagine the dozens of different cuts or gashes she might have on her body.

And then there���s the reality that this will be the first time you ever lay eyes on Todoroki Hana. It will be your reckoning day, the deciding moment of happenstance when she makes the choice of whether or not you are worthy of her acceptance.

You park and walk into the building, your eyes wavering over the entire intricate structure. It’s a formation of pillars and high roofing, accented with filigree of metal curved into beautiful shapes. The price point of this facility does not go over your head, given the marble pillars look genuine, smooth and rounded in all the right places. You run your fingertips over the cool stone as you walk to the thick, mahogany door. The doorknob is sparkling gold, as if someone polished it when they saw you park.

All the details wrapped into a pristine package ease your mind about the salary that Todoroki Shouto is paying you. Originally, you’d wanted to fight him on it, but you acquiesced into silence after taking note of his watch and the name brand of his suit jacket.

Your hand shoves at the front door, weighted and dense, and you step up to the front desk. Resting your forearms on the top of the divider, you smile down at her, “Hi, I’m here to pick up Todoroki Hana.”

It’s clear this woman has never seen you before by the way her eyes gawk over your appearance. You may not be dressed as pristinely as she might like, but you still look rather presentable, given the time restraints you were under to come pick up the young girl.

She tilts her head as if considering you like prey before grabbing up the phone on her desk, muttering a few words into the receiver. As she hangs up, she holds out a clipboard, “We’ll need a copy of your ID. Mr. Todoroki called ahead to let us know you’d be coming, but we’d just like confirmation. For Hana’s safety.”

It all makes sense, and is rather sound policy, but the curl of her lips when she says it forces a vat of acid into your stomach. You swallow your retort that is sitting on your tongue like a knife and gently take the board from her hand.

As you’re filling out the paperwork, the sound of little footsteps starts down the hallway. You tilt your head, pen stilled in your grip, awaiting what feels like your very own doomsday. This little almost two-year-old holds your fate in her tiny, grubby hands.

You stand and replace the clipboard onto the front desk, sliding your ID along with it. Turning your head, you await the arrival of your own two-foot-tall guillotine. You twist your hands together, knuckles wrung out white as you wait for Hana to approach the curve of the hallway and seal your fate. You know you should not be this anxious over a child who has just broken into real sneakers, but the rational part of you never wins out in these kinds of situations.

Todoroki Shouto is paying you something on the upside of expensive, offering you a generous starting bonus in addition to your typical pay so you could start working earlier than expected and still make your rent payments without worry. It would be a shame to lose that thick paycheck just because you could not win over a teetering toddler who probably babbles about princesses and the color purple most of the day.

“Hana, it looks like your-”

“Nanny,” you interject as you hear the voice echoing down the hall, attempting to avoid any confusion if possible. You brush your thighs free of any imaginary dust and crumbs so you can hide the shaking of your joints, “I work for Mr. Todoroki.”

When they finally round the corner, you stop breathing.

The little girl standing in front of you cannot be much over two feet tall, bright blue eyes shining as she drinks you in apprehensively. Her pupils shrink the closer she gets, bejeweled eyes swallowed by the inkiness. Her hands fidget at her sides while she stutter-steps towards you. The long locks of pale, silver hair reach midway down her back, the curled tips giving her an almost doll-like appearance with their perfection. Her full lips are drawn inward, tentative, much like her father.

And there, covering her right eye, a gauze bandage attempting to staunch and protect a wound.

You cannot help the way your eyes widen at the sight of her injured face, your hands ready to snag her up and race her to the nearest emergency room. Todoroki hadn’t told you the extent of her injuries, just that she had an accident on the playground, and someone needed to pick her up immediately.

“Hi Hana,” you squat down so you can appear to her at eye-level, an effort to put her at ease. “Your daddy heard you took a fall outside with your friends and he wanted me to come pick you up. Are you okay?”

She has obviously been crying, cheeks dark red and swollen, her visible eye puffy from tears. Your inner nature is telling you to reach out and comfort her, taking her by the hand and drawing her up into your arms to give her a gentle squeeze. But you know that there is a time and place and threshold for each form of affection, so you withdraw.

“How bad is it?” You turn your gaze upward, calves screaming as you shift your weight. You seek out the eyes of her teacher, trying to gauge your reaction based on her body language, “It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding too much now, and she’s rather calm. Was her eye directly injured?”

“No, it’s just around the orbital,” her teacher runs fingertips through Hana’s hair, “I don’t think she’ll need stitches, but she will definitely need this wound cleaned up by a professional. I know Mr. Todoroki has a nurse he usually calls.”

It’s as if these women are trying to suffocate you with their knowledge of Todoroki, almost like them knowing he has a nurse, or not knowing he’d hired you until today, would win them some sort of award or accolade. You try your best not to let your stomach turn at the sight of them, desperate and petty.

“Hana?”

She tilts her head up at you, another round of tears welling up in her eyelids. You wonder if it is from stress, pain, or a mixture of that and the uncomfortable feeling she can sense from the way you’re interacting with the daycare staff. She sniffles and wipes her face with the back of her forearm, careful of her injured eye, “Y-Yes ma’am?”

So Shouto has taught her manners.

You attempt to keep your composure at the sound of her tinny, trepid voice echoing out the words that are normally rare for even full-grown adults to use. In reaching out your hand, you notice she does not shrink away from you, not this time, “I think we ought to go have that nurse of your dad’s check out your eye, what do you think?”

There is silence for a moment, genuine concern evident in her sparkling irises. She blinks quickly, like she is trying to figure you out before she makes her decision in response to your question. You don’t want to clue her in to the fact that, at the end of the day, it’s not really her choice to make – that plight between staying here and going somewhere else has been completely left up to you.

“You know,” you’re whispering now, dramatically hiding your mouth behind the palm of your hand, pretending that that others standing around can’t hear you. “I think that I saw this cool ice cream shop on the way here. You think you could help me try a new flavor?”

This makes her eyes widen, pushing herself up on her tiptoes as she fails to contain her excitement at the suggestion of a sugary treat, “Wh-What flavor?”

You grin, warmth seeping into your chest as a giggle bubbles up in her throat, “I was thinking bubblegum, or maybe cotton candy?”

Hana’s nose scrunches at the suggestion, “No way!”

“Well,” you stand to your full height, hands on your hips as you pout, “what would you rather have then?”

She is full-on smiling now, cheeks drawn upward so her dimples can dip into her cheeks on either side, “I like mint w-with choco-chips in it!”

You hold your hand out again, praying that now, after divulging your favorite ice cream flavors, she won’t totally reject you. The last thing you want is for her to force your hand in making a decision to pick her up and take her out of the daycare.

Hana pushes herself up and down on her toes, biting her lip before bursting with a smile, “Y-You really mean it?! Ice cream?”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug, wriggling your fingers as the other women watch on in amazement as your connection to the child. “I think you deserve it after that nasty fall you took.”

Bouncing towards you, Hana bobs into the air by pushing upward on the balls of her feet. She reaches out and snags your hand into her grip of her own accord, before beginning to tug you to the exit. She is babbling on about all of the ice cream flavors she’s tried, and what they taste like, and the last time she had ice cream was oh so long ago…

“See you later, ladies,” you wave over your shoulder, unable to hide the satisfied smirk making your mouth crooked, “I guess we’re going to get ice cream.”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Hana knows how to buckle herself in, so she’s already clambering up into your car as soon as you have the door open. Her injury is completely forgotten as she bustles up into the seat, climbing in awkwardly before turning around to plop her backside into the curve of the cushions. Her fingers are frantic as she desperately tries to get the straps clicked together so you can be on your way to the nearest ice cream shop. You smile at her struggle, allowing her to settle with a pout before offering her your help.

“I-I can do it!” she insists, eyes misted. “I-I’m a big girl!”

“Oh, no doubt,” you shake your head in reassurance, pursing your lips as you hold your hands up in midair, palms facing her. “I’m just trying to help so we can get to our ice cream just a tad faster.”

Your reasoning seems to be sound, because Hana releases the offending buckle and puts her hands on either side of her car seat to give you enough room to maneuver and snap the contraption in place. Your hands make swift work of the buckles and straps, tightening them to the perfect spot on her chest and hips. She smiles up at you when you’re finished, expectant and excited.

It is strange, the intense desire to protect her that immediately washes over you at first sight. You have to stop yourself from rushing into allowing her between the cracks of your heart. You are frantic to seal them so you can let yourself down easy if this job ends up being as short-term as you’re worried of it becoming.

You pull away from her, face blank, and shut the door as Hana begins to fiddle with the remaining length of the straps around her body. Her fingers swirl around the black fabric and plastic, tugging and pulling, but not hard enough to adjust any of your hard work.

On your way to the parlor, you decide to call Shouto.

“Daddy!”

A relieved sigh sounds from the other end of the receiver, and you can’t help the warmth that blooms in your belly when you grin. Shouto coughs thickly, clearing his throat, “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay!” Hana twirls her fingers in midair, watching around like Todoroki may appear out of thin air like his voice echoing in the car. “We’re going to get ice cream!”

“Ice cream?” his voice sounds slightly judgmental, but you try to push it off and pretend it means nothing. You spare a glance over your shoulder, “Tell him what flavor you’re getting, Hana.”

You pull into the drive through window of the ice cream shop, listening as Hana babbles on about the different flavors you two talked about and whether she’ll get a cone or a cup. You put the car in park as the person in front of you orders, swiveling your hips so you can look her in the eye, “I was actually thinking about a milkshake. How does that sound?”

“Ooh,” her eyes grow wider, chubby little hands curling into fists in her lap. She’s practically buzzing at just the thought of it all, “That sounds like fun!”

You chuckle, hand on the gearshift, “Oh, I meant to ask, have you already scheduled the nurse to be at the house? I wasn’t sure if you’d rather it be someone personal to look after her, or if you’d want me to take her to a general hospital.”

“I’ll call Masuyo and have her meet you at the house.” Todoroki’s voice is muffled as he turns to speak with someone else in his office, hand over the receiver. You hear him cough, voice tense, “S-She’s okay, though. Right?”

“I think she’s a strong girl,” you make your voice confident, straightening your spine, “she’ll be fine once we get her cleaned up. Right, Hana?”

You spare one final look at the little girl in the backseat, all bright eyes and buzzing fingertips. She’s already shuddering off of pure energy, and you wonder if sugar was really the best route to go down for her comfort. Either way, she nods her head, enthusiastic about what’s to come next.

“Yes!” She leans forward in her seat, getting closer to his voice, “I can’t wait until you get home, daddy. We’ll play prince and princess, right?”

You can sense the hesitation on Todoroki’s end and your heart turns to granite in your chest. When he speaks, you feel the weight of it settle in your belly, throat tightening.

“I’m not sure, love. I’ll have to see. It’s very busy this afternoon.”

Hana allows her expression to fall for a mere moment. You honestly would not have caught the change in her demeanor if it weren’t for you studying her as Shouto uttered the words. Every bit of enthusiasm that was previously holding her cheeks high is drained. Her face pales and her lips turn downward in a frown, eyes dropped to her hands as she fiddles with her knuckles in her lap.

And yet, almost as soon as she falters, her smile returns, albeit not enough to light up her eyes as it did before. It’s like she is reconstructing a mask that she feels pressured to wear in order to keep her father satiated and undisturbed.

“Oh, that’s okay, daddy,” Hana’s voice is as cheerful as her little strong will can force it to be. She attempts to be dismissive as she waves her hands, despite Shouto unable to see her, “I played princess at school anyway.”

Your heart continues to crack as she says her final line, “I love you, Daddy.”

Shouto exhales, voice breathy when he repeats the sentiment, “I love you more.”

“I love you most.” Hana’s tone lilts then, a crack in her metaphorical armor at his affections despite his absence. She swipes at her face and you wonder if she was crying, because you certainly didn’t see any tears.

Your throat grows thick with emotion, making it difficult for you to tell him goodbye. You roll down your window and rattle off your order, trying to keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye to monitor Hana’s mood and expressions as the moments progress. You feel horrible for intruding on their very personal, private moment, and it only makes your heart wrench more when you see Hana’s glazed eyes unable to focus on one thing in particular. She’s docile, void of emotion as she stares out of the window, watching clouds pass as the world grows darker with the threat of a sunset on the horizon.

You settle the milkshakes into the front seat, finishing up at the drive through window before rolling forward into a vacant parking space. With your foot still on the break, you reach back to hand Hana the small milkshake cup with the straw already pushed through the opening on the lid, “There you go.”

She takes it from you gingerly, small palms wrapping around as much of the cup circumference as she possibly can. Her lips are pouted just enough that you wonder if she’ll take a sip at all. You busy yourself, pretending to clean up trash in the front seat and maneuver things around on the floorboards, waiting on her first drag from the ice cream cup.

But it never comes.

After five minutes of waiting, you press your hand to the passenger’s side headrest and look her in the eye – as much of her pupils that you can catch in spite of her hooded lids. Hana is still dazed, looking into her milkshake cup as if it might have the answers to all of her life’s confusing questions.

“Hana?” Your voice calls her from whatever lull she was in, eyes blinking slow as she connects back to this version of reality. A vague, “Yes?” is uttered from her lips, but she isn’t focused, not just yet. You brush your hand against the top of her knee, quick and gentle, and it does the trick. She blinks one final time before her pupils dilate back to their usual size, gaze settled clearly on your face.

“Did something upset you?” you ask, your hand wrung around the headrest again. “Or do you just not want your milkshake?”

“I dunno,” Hana admits quickly, eyes downturned once she realizes she’s let the emotion slip from her voice. It makes the edges of her words raw and ragged, “I guess I just don’ wan’ it anymore.”

You are persistent; your job is to make her happy and keep her safe, and right now with a milkshake melting in her lap, part of you feels like you’re failing.

“Was it what your dad said?” Your question is asked in a low tone, something you’re trying to use to convey that you are being patient and kind. You take a chance and rest your palm against the car seat armrest, close enough to make contact but not adjacent enough to infringe upon her personal space. You swallow thickly, taking a short breath, “About not being home to play?”

Hana is pinching the straw between her fingers, looking into the little opening as it closes with the squeeze of her fingers. You wonder if she does this often, with tangible objects. Does she ache to control something so much so that she becomes lost in the euphoria of it all?

She sighs, kicking her feet, “Daddy is just always working. It makes me sad sometimes.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, not really. If you had known her for longer, or met Todoroki some other way, you could likely refute her statement. However, there’s truth in what she’s saying, a vulnerability that you weren’t sure you would see from the child so soon.

When she speaks next, Hana reminds you of a full-grown woman, attempting to redirect the conversation from something personal to something vague, “What’id you get?”

Her voice sounds like an echo of her true self, nothing like the way her tone lilted when she first spoke with her father. There is a seemingly eerie mask she has perfected, something both audible and emotional. And it would appear she knows just how to slip it on and off when the time is right, despite her young age.

Then and there you choose to burden yourself with the purpose of breaking her out of her glass box of entrapment.

“I got cookie dough,” you say as you take an over-dramatic sip, crossing your eyes at the sensation of cool ice cream flowing down your throat, “What did you get?”

Her face scrunches inward, nose wrinkling at the bridge, “Y-You know what I got, don’ you? You ordered it for me!”

You make an exaggerated face of confusion, tilting your head backward and tapping your fingertip against your chin. “Hmm,” you nod, agreeing with her accusation, “I guess you’re right, huh?”

“You’re silly,” Hana giggles before going in for her first sip of her milkshake. Her eyes are narrowed downward at the cup, hands cradling it carefully as if it were the most important thing in the world and she might be in danger of spilling it at any moment. Her eyes are wide, doe-like in nature, as she comes up for air, “This is good!”

“Great,” you answer her, switching the gearshift back into drive so you can pull out of the parking lot and out onto the highway to head back to their house.

The remainder of the drive back to the Todoroki residence is spent in moderate silence, gentle music playing on the radio as Hana preoccupies herself with licking every last drop of her milkshake from the straw. She sucks the mint chocolate chip ice cream from her thumb and looks up at you when you park the car in the driveway, “We’re home?”

You unbuckle yourself from your seat and answer her, hopping down from the car to open her door. She’s already working at her buckles, undone the top half, but still struggling with the bottom. By the time you’ve gotten her undone from the chair, she trusts you enough to reach out her arms and ask for you to help her down to the ground so she does not have to clamber down and risk falling onto the concrete.

When the soles of her shoes hit the concrete, she’s reaching up for you, grabbing you around your fingertips to hold on as she walks. You squeeze her hand gently, fishing the keys out with one hand to unlock the door.

The nurse is already inside, set up on the couch. Hana runs straight to her, plopping herself unceremoniously down on the furniture, hand hovering over the patch as she talks with Masuyo about her ice cream experience from just moments ago.

You busy yourself with dinner, prepping meat and vegetables, as Masuyo starts to clean and treat Hana’s wound. It’s another thirty minutes before you start to sear meat on the stovetop when you hear the garage door rattle open unexpectedly. Todoroki shouldn’t be home until later this evening, he texted you after you’d been in line for ice cream to tell you as such.

And yet, when the door opens to reveal his familiar frame, you can’t help the way your jaw unhinges.

“You’re home early,” you mention, flipping the steak pieces in the pan to sear the other side. “Everything okay?”

Todoroki is stunned by how grossly domestic the sight of you in his kitchen is and he’s jarred back into his prior lifetime where he had the full family package. He blinks and takes a short breath, forcing himself away from the swirling blackhole of the past to smile at you, “Yes, well. I decided that my daughter’s health was more important than some paperwork. I had a few of the first-years handle it.”

That is how it starts. Your first day as the new nanny of the Todoroki household.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Are you sure you got the right color plates?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the cake?”

“Ordered it three weeks ago.”

“How about the-”

“Shouto.”

He turns to look you in the eyes, breath frantic, “What?”

You can’t help but laugh at the wide-eyed expression he wears, all of his emotions blatantly displayed on his face. You take a step toward him, reaching out to cup his elbow, “I’ve got it all handled, okay? Her birthday party isn’t for another week, Shouto. Are you ready for the zoo?”

Todoroki hesitates, gritting his teeth together so harshly that you can see the muscles in his jaw quiver. He turns his palm to press flat against your forearm, heterochromatic gaze seeking you out for some sort of comfort, “Did you need me to pack the bag?”

“No,” you chuckle, forcing yourself to remove your body from his grasp by walking back to the sink to finish up the load of dirty dishes you wanted to get into the wash before you left. You tilt your head to look across the bar at him, “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

Hana comes careening down the hallway, a doll in either hand, her pajamas still crooked on her body. She giggles, bouncing on the balls of her feet before launching herself forward to latch around Todoroki’s calf like an animal, “Daddy!”

Shouto bends at the waist to pluck her up, hands careful under her armpits when he tucks her into his side, “Yes, love, I’m going to the zoo. But it looks like you need a change of clothes.”

“I already laid some out on her dresser,” you pipe up from behind the sink, “but you’ll need to spray her down with sunscreen first, it’s not very cloudy outside today.”

As Shouto turns to walk Hana back to her room, you allow your gaze to linger a moment longer than the ordinary. Ever since you first took this job, you could note Todoroki’s beautifully carved body and stellar facial features. He is built perfectly for the type of Pro Hero that he is – thick muscles wrapped around dense bones, and yet still a relatively lean frame to hold it all into place. Shouto’s face is cut sharp at the jawline, cheekbones stark against his skin. You are sure to admire him whenever you can.

When you hear him and his daughter talking, sharing words and laughs, it only adds to the flame that burns in your belly at the thought of Todoroki Shouto.

There is no doubt in your mind that it is improper to feel the way you do about a client. They should be nothing more than a paycheck and a steppingstone, and yet somehow you have found a way to allow Shouto to wind his pristine claws into you. He’s got you by the heart and it has only been a few months.

You force your hands to work at the dishes, cleaning what remains so you can start the dishwasher. After you’re done, you make your way upstairs towards Hana’s room, where you hear various grunting noises.

A laugh threatens to part your lips and give away your spying secret when you notice Shouto frantically trying to pull the shirt you picked out over the top of Hana’s head. Her arms are stuck in the wrong spots and you can already tell that it’s somehow inside out, but none of that pushes you to step forward and take over.

It’s only when Hana spots you spying in the doorway that you’re coerced into treading into her bedroom. She pouts and Todoroki doesn’t look much happier. He chuckles, “I swear I’m better at this than I look.”

“Oh, I know you’re helpless,” you smirk across at him, squatting in front of Hana to help untangle her from the clothes and put her back in right side up. Her little hands grab for your face, squeezing your cheeks as she surges forward to kiss your nose, “Daddy is helpless, isn’t he?”

You are too busy fussing over Hana’s hair to notice the way that Todoroki drinks you in like he has been parched for years. He cannot stop himself from memorizing the color of your irises, the slope of your nose, the bow of your lips.

The reality that he could even be attracted to you is lost on him – he swore after his wife died that he would never find another woman to replace her. You have only been here a few short weeks and he’s already begun to question his earlier statement.

It’s just the way she is with Hana, he tries to convince himself. I am kidding myself into believing she’s here for us, not just because it’s a job.

And yet, when his gaze connects to yours, Hana babbling about lions and tigers as you slather her down with sunscreen, Todoroki swears that he feels something different.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The day of Hana’s party comes quicker than expected.

You’re frantically spinning around, making sure there is enough food and drink for everyone in addition to trying to keep an eye on the children as they play around on the various structures setup outside.

A group of moms gather at the bar, one of them urging the others to look at you with a sinister lilt in their gaze. You continue to serve everyone at the party, filling drinks, bringing new plates of food, and yet their eyes never waver from you.

When you are cleaning up some stray garbage in the kitchen, the blonde woman near the end of the bar perks up, “Excuse me, nanny, would you mind filling my glass?”

It is like the floodgates have opened, and now they are all asking you for favors. You swallow your pride and do as they say whether that’s food or drink or a new napkin or even cleaning up their garbage. They are all gossiping behind their hands, palms raised to their mouths as if that will do anything to staunch the flow of the conversation, or even make it more difficult for you to hear the way they speak of you.

Your pride takes each hit in stride, attempting to roll the insults off your shoulders while you tend to them kindly. It takes Shouto stepping into the kitchen for your face to falter.

You gaze across the room at him and your strong façade falls away, hands shaking by your sides as you look at the floor in shame. You swallow your self-importance and build your walls back to their full height before looking up at him once more.

Todoroki is fuming, to put it nicely.

His hands are curled into fists, knuckles white and cheeks hot at the sight of your unease. He takes a few strides forward, features softening as he reaches out to press his fingertips into the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His breath is warm, spilling down your spine like molten lava, pooling the heat in your belly and turning your insides to mush. The expanse of his palm splays against your back, the plane of his chest flush with your arm when he stands too close.

You take a short breath, unable to get enough oxygen with him crowding your space like this. It is like he’s thinning the air within a few feet of his body, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’m fine,” your voice is high and thick, nostrils flaring when you make eye contact with one of the women at the bar. She is smirking proudly, head tilted so she can look down her nose at you. You swallow the shards of emotion sticking in your throat and look up at Todoroki, confused at the fury held in his irises, darkening them both so they look almost the same color as his pupils.

He turns and you watch in slow motion as his jaw hinges open, anxiety gripping your throat tightly. Your body moves before your mind can catch up; you shift your feet, so your hips are in front of him, hands palming against his pectorals to bring his attention down to you.

You tug on the fabric of his shirt, breathlessly calling to him, “Shouto.”

Todoroki turns his eyes downward, jawline quivering just enough for you to see at this close of an angle. He is intoxicating, the combination of his cologne and his body heat sending your mind spinning. You lick your lips and his eyes track the motion, turning butterflies over in your belly, their gentle wings brushing the insides of your body delicately, enough to tickle.

“Shouto,” you mumble his name again. “S’okay, alright?”

The sound of barstools scraping the floor signifies the judgmental women taking their leave, and your chest deflates at the change in atmosphere. Your hands go slack against Shouto’s chest, head falling forward to rest against his collarbone.

When his hands brush your hips, you snap your eyes upward, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze. Shouto grinds his teeth together before speaking, “I’m sorry they were bossing you around. You’re not here to take care of them.”

“It’s okay, really,” you pat your hand on his chest as if solidifying your statement, smiling enough to sell it.  

His thumb grazes the hem of your shirt, fingertip slipping beneath the fabric to brush against your skin. Your breath hitches and every instinct within you tells you to push yourself up on your toes and grab his shirt in your tight fists, but when you’re eye-to-eye with him, you wish you wouldn’t have listened.

You can feel his stuttering breath on the bow of your lip, and it makes your shoulders quiver. Your name is whispered between his teeth and suddenly he is too close, so close that you’re intoxicated, and every inhibition of yours has been forgotten like dust in the wind.

“Daddy!”

The sound of her voice breaks you apart, stumbling like teenagers caught underneath the bleachers. Todoroki turns to Hana, tending to her face with a napkin and listening to her sugar-driven babbling. You take the moment to slip past them and back to the outdoor area where everyone is gathered.

For the remainder of the night, you feel Todoroki’s eyes on you, following your movements as you maneuver throughout the guests, offering them refills and to take their garbage. He cannot help but feel the heat incinerating his body from all sides, not just his left. The sensation is strange, the ice on his right side usually taking over any and all feeling he might have.

It feels foreign, but not unpleasant. Todoroki’s neck prickles at the impending awareness that he might be in for a crude awakening soon.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The next few months are a breeze.

Until they are not.

Todoroki has begun to spend more time at work and less at home with each passing day. The threat of his job creeping over him like a looming dark shadow, slowly engulfing him inch by inch until he is surrounded entirely. He spends his days fighting crime, and nights doing paperwork.

You are slowly starting to spend more and more time at the Todoroki house – you are now expected to arrive around five in the morning, and sometimes you do not leave until nine in the evening. It is exhausting, given your drive back to your apartment is a half-hour on a good day with little traffic.

Somehow, you have been able to keep Hana satiated, even without her father around. There are fleeting moments where her cheery expression falters and she sheds a few tears, but you are there to wrap her up in your arms and let her cry until she has nothing left. And then, after she’s dried her face on your shirt, she looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes and begs you to play princess.

One night, when you are half asleep on the couch with Hana curled into your arms, you feel a palm press to your shoulder, “I’m home.”

You blink blearily, a short jolt of breath stinging your lungs. You swallow and look to the right of you where Todoroki is squatted beside you. He is smiling; you can tell, even in the darkness.

“Hey,” you whisper, careful to cradle Hana’s head as you sit up. “Sorry, it’s been an eventful day.”

Shouto shakes his head and helps you to your feet, palms finding any juncture of you that he can use to support your body. His hand is against your elbow when he speaks next, “No, I’m sorry. I should have been home hours ago. I know you were making dinner.”

“I make dinner every night,” a laugh parts your lips and you run your fingers through Hana’s hair to try and keep her asleep despite the noise. “So, it’s nothing new, Todoroki. Let me go put her down and I’ll head out.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but his jaw snaps shut before he can let out whatever secret he is harboring. You disregard it, walking upstairs to tuck Hana in for bed. She stirs but does not wake entirely and you are thankful. The day has already been tumultuous enough without having to sing her back to sleep or stay up any longer.

As you are walking down the steps, you’re surprised to find Shouto pacing in the hallway, his thumb pinching his chin and his brow furrowed harshly. He looks rather intensely conflicted, and there is a moment where you’re worried, he may decide to fire you. Could you have done something wrong with Hana? Did she not like you? Was he upset that you let her have chocolate before noon the other day?

“Shouto?” you call, padding forward, toes sifting through the carpet. “Is everything okay?”

Another yawn splits your lips and you cover it with your palm, apologizing through your teeth. He shakes his head and steps toward you with a palm outstretched, “Yes, everything is fine. I just have something I’d like to ask you.”

You tilt your head and it reminds him of a curious animal, sniffing him out for food in the form of information. Your hand rests on his bicep and it is dizzying to be this close to you, even after several months of working alongside you. His head still spins when you are too close.

“I was wondering if you might consider moving in.”

You blink dumbly, mouth parted so he can see the pad of your tongue and the tips of your canine teeth. Your fingertips graze against his arm and you feel like lightning is sparking at the cusp of your touch.

The reality is this is not far from normal – most full-time nannies do end up living with their families. It makes everything easier and cheaper. If you live there, he does not have to pay you for drive time, and your boarding costs can be directly deducted from your standard paycheck. This option is what makes the most sense, but you are not focused on sense right now.

All you can see is his bare torso.

You are imagining accidentally walking in on him after he’s taken a shower, or him stumbling in after his morning runs with his tiny running shorts and shirtless upper half. Your tongue goes dry at the thought of it all, but you force yourself to push words past your lips, so you won’t look like a dead fish.

“That’s a pretty permanent decision, Shouto.” Your words hold weight and he knows it, he’s thought this through a dozen different ways to Sunday. You swallow and when your hands brush over his skin, he swears sparks light beneath your fingertips; it makes his arm numb. “I don’t mind, but I just want to make sure that you’ve really thought this through.”

He nods, stepping closer so he’s almost flush with you now, “I feel awful having you drive so early and so late. Your hours would not change, your responsibilities wouldn’t change. You would have your own room and privacy, and I don’t expect to lessen your pay just because you live here. It’s just-”

“Shouto,” you’re laughing now, shaking your head as you look down at your toes, “I don’t expect everything to stay the same if I move in. I’m prepared, are you?”

Truly, he’s thought about that question far too much in the passing days when he sees you around the house or speaks with you on the phone during the day. The idea that you will be here every hour of every day is suffocating, but in a way that makes him want to drown. As time moves faster, Shouto realizes that you have become a second nature in his house. He is thinking of you during his office meetings and the late nights on patrol.

He cannot be honest with the true reason he is asking you to move in, because then he would have to face his emotions and he’s not ready for that yet. And yet, his body betrays his mind as he reaches forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, “I think I can handle it.”

Emotion swells like a blooming heat between the two of you, your bodies almost entirely pressed up against one another as your voices grow softer. You are not sure if it’s the sleep-muddled brain you’re working off of, but you swear that you see his eyes drop to your lips. There is some part of you that wants to fall into him, to let him take you and burn you and leave you for dead, but the rest of you is working off of sense and logic and you know that would never work.

“Well,” your voice shatters the fragile moment, “I guess I better get home and start packing.”

Shouto releases you and something shifts in his irises, but it is gone as soon as it appears, and you don’t have enough time to discern the emotion. You pluck up your bag and slip on your shoes, turning to wave at him over your shoulder as you step past the threshold and back to the garage.

As you start your car, you rest your forehead on the steering wheel before you pull out, and murmur to yourself in utter chagrin, “What have I just agreed to?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I’m telling you - Red Riot is going to give you a run for your money.”

“That blockhead?” Shouto chuckles, swirling his glass, “I doubt it.”

You tilt your head, “And what about Ground Zero? He’s got his own agency now, doesn’t he?”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “God, can we please leave Bakugou out of this conversation?”

Another swig of the rum and coke slides down your throat, burning in the best way. Your head feels hazy, but you don’t mind, taking advantage of Hana’s early bedtime for the first time in a few weeks. You push your mostly empty glass towards him, “Bartender?”

Todoroki smiles, tipping the bottle downward to refill your glass. You grab the soda off the countertop and fill it to the brim, swirling the mixture with your straw. Another gulp of the liquid has you asking, “You and the other big players all went to Yuuei together, right? Ground Zero, Deku, Red Riot?”

Shouto nods, “Yes, we did.”

“Wow, to have gone to Yuuei,” you whisper in wonder, eyes heavy as you look down into the dark liquid fizzing in your glass.

He leans forward on the counter, body close to you as he asks his obvious question, “You don’t have a quirk, do you?”

“No,” your answer is quick, curt. You swallow thickly, shards of shame sticking in your throat. “I was born without one. You’ve seen my shoes.”

You are referring to the wider shoes that those with no quirk have to wear thanks to the extra joint in their pinkie toes. You lift your foot up in the air for good measure, painted toenails catching the light just right as you wriggle your toes around dramatically. You sigh, “I didn’t fully know who you were when I took this job. It’s kind of embarrassing that I don’t have a quirk, and you’re some superhero saving people with ice and fire.”

Shouto holds out his left palm, face up, and ignites a small flame, “I hated this side of my body for so long. It comes with a burden I’m glad you do not have to bear.”

The weight in his voice entices your eyes upward, connecting with his gaze as the heat blossoms, sucking the oxygen out of the air. Shouto curls his fingers inward and cuts the flame short, a gentle wisp of smoke floating from his palm.

“What does it feel like?” you find yourself asking, the alcohol creating a dull buzz behind your eyes that latches onto all of your inhibitions and immediately tosses them away.

His breath hitches audibly, pupils dilating as he attempts to focus on something other than the way your lips bow when you speak. Shouto steps forward, hands gentle as he cups your cheeks, a bravery he did not know he could muster bolstering his movements. His fingertips tickle your skin and it’s difficult for you to keep your eyes open when he is holding you so tenderly.

Shouto closes his eyes in concentration, taking a deep breath before narrowing his concentration onto the pores of his hands. His palms are flush with your skin and you let your mind wander while he is working up his quirk.

How would his touch compare to different parts of your body?

Your eyes slip shut at the thought, biting your lip as your mind runs rampant. The heat curling in your belly reminds you of his quirk – burning and licking at your belly like a raging flame. You only wish you had his right side to cool you down from the inside out.

Slowly but surely, you feel the right side of your face grow warm while the left side has started to chill. Your eyes go wide, and you circle your fingers around his wrists, voice breathy when you speak, “Wow, Shouto, that’s amazing!”

Your voice goes quiet and it is like the world stops spinning when he opens his eyelids to look down at you. You feel frozen in your spot, but you know it isn’t his quirk affecting you. Your grip tightens but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyesight directed to your lips, zeroed in on the way that you gnaw at them when you’re nervous.

The tension is like a rubber band begging to snap. You feel the coil twirl around your spine, bunching you together and screaming at you to run away. There are a thousand different reasons why getting too close is dangerous, but your wanton body cannot be bothered to list them. Instead you are pushing yourself up in your seat, so your back is arched toward him, chest brushing his pectorals.

Shouto reminds you of something innocent when his mouth parts and irises glimmer beneath half-hooded lids. You feel distinctly profligate for envisaging his mouth on other parts of your body, the pink of his tongue peeking from behind pearly teeth doing little to quell your thoughts. You swallow thickly and shudder as his hand that produces cold shifts into your hair, rustling through the tresses at the nape of your neck.

Your hands are suddenly wrapped up in the fabric of his shirt, fisting the soft material, and you are pulling him towards you. Even so, it is Shouto who tilts your head upward, heels of his palms gently angling you by the cheeks.

The two of you take a breath before devouring one another whole.

His mouth tastes like whiskey, sharp and biting, but his tongue is in stark contrast to the flavor. He is gentle while still taking over your every sense. His tongue maps out the curves of your teeth and the pad of your tongue while his chilled palm keeps your skin from searing with blush.

The tenderness with which he holds onto you makes your heart rattle around within the cage you have built just for him. You knew this entire time that if he were to wriggle his way in, to touch your heart in just the right spot, you would crumble beneath his ministrations. This entire time you’ve been beholden to him, despite the utter denial you’ve been bathing in to hide the confession.

“Todoroki, I-”

Your voice is cut off by a blazing hand drifting beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers dipping against your spine, “I hate it when you call me that.”

Your eyes go wide but he’s enraptured you with another kiss square on the lips. Your words fall into the confines of his throat, never to be heard again as he swallows them into silence.

Hands are everywhere, so much so that you can’t tell where you begin and he ends.

Shouto nips your lip and you gasp, your hips canting forward of their own accord. Your mouth is gaping, begging for air, and he gives in to your silent request, drifting his lips downward to your jawline. He mutters a string of curse words as your hands finally make their way to his hair and shoulders, digging into him like he might float away.

He hums against your collarbone, teeth bared as he licks and nips at your skin. The alcohol in your bloodstream mixed with his essence in your veins only spins your mind into overdrive, dizzying you to the point that your eyes cross. You whine as he bites kisses into your skin, fingernails dug sharply into the skin of his back through his shirt. There will most likely be little crescent moon imprints when you release.

The trail of his kisses loops back up the column of your throat, teeth grazing your jaw as he works his way to your mouth again. You whine into his lips when his frozen fingers stroke your bare skin beneath your top, “Shouto, please-”

Todoroki’s confidence grows when he hears you moan his name into the air, begging him with only a few syllables. He disconnects his mouth from yours to look you in the eyes, “God, you’re so damn pretty, y’know?”

Your mouth hangs open and Todoroki must hold himself back from slipping his thumb between your parted, full lips. A shuddering breath passes between the two of you, time frozen as the moment sits still. It allows the both of you to agonize over one another, taking in each and every wanton feature as you beg quietly.

“So pretty,” he whispers before digging his hands into your backside and tugging you forward so you wrap yourself around him. His mouth is on you in a flash, all teeth and tongue pulling and prodding at you in a divine way you’re sure only he has mastered.

You are enraptured by him, fully captivated with his dual-ended quirk sending your body into a haze. Your mind is bewildered, thrown into a twirl of rum and Todoroki. If he were to give you a moment to catch your breath, you might be able to find it within your resolve to push him off you, to tell him how wrong this is. And yet, with his tongue tangled in your teeth, you can’t force the word no out of your throat.

Instead it is just his name.

Todoroki picks you up to deposit you on the countertop, thumbs digging into your hips to help you settle. His fingers make quick work of your top, slipping beneath them hem to graze over the swell of your breast on the underside. You whimper at the ghost of his touch, trying to angle your arms so you can tug at the band of his sweats.

When he realizes what you are fumbling with, he uses the bottoms of his feet to tug his pants down to his ankles. He steps out of them, but you can’t focus on anything other than the prominent bulge strained against his dark briefs. You have to swallow the drool accumulating in the center of your mouth, threatening to pool over the corners of your lips if you were to speak.

Before he tugs your shirt over your head, he looks into your eyes, sincerity cutting through the lust clouding his irises, “Last chance.”

He is giving you an out. One last clear path to purity.

You hesitate for a moment and his hands curl tighter around the hem of your top, restraining himself from ripping it away like an animal. His jaw is quivering as he waits on your response, nostrils flaring when you do not answer right away.

Whether it is the alcohol or the need talking, you are the conduit for the words spoken next, “Fuck me, Shouto. Now.”

Your shirt is yanked over your head unceremoniously, but you don’t care. Your eyes are wandering, begging for him to be nearly as naked as you. You don’t have to ask, because he’s already stepping away from you to remove the offensive piece of clothing, baring his body to you.

You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, especially upon moving into the Todoroki residence. He goes on shirtless jogs and sometimes does not wear anything on his torso for a while after he’s showered. There are days he has hardly anything remaining of his costume, after a particularly rough villain or training session.

And yet, this time it feels different.

He is baring himself for you. The intimacy of the moment does little to dull the ache in your mind, the strain of your heart in your ribs. You know that if he were to show you much more openness, you may have bruises beneath your skin from the way your heart threatens to beat at such a quick, tumultuous pace.

Shouto wastes little time in lurching forward to palm at your breasts, mouth too busy with your lips to pay attention to much else. You hitch your thigh between his hips, the curve of your leg brushing into his clothed cock. He grunts into the trap of your teeth, brow tugged with focus as he ruts his hips upward into you. You’re sure to put pressure back against him, the tip of his cock bulging on your thigh.

“Sho’,” you whimper when his mouth drifts from your lips to your neck. Your hands find his hair and his shoulder, eyelids fluttering halfway closed while he licks and nips at your thin, sensitive skin. Your throat burns, flesh aching as he starts to bite into you, rolling the skin between his teeth slowly, agonizing your very core.

A fresh wave of arousal coats the inside of your walls, and you know it is stained your panties, but you don’t have enough dignity to care. All that is on your mind is how he can take you on the countertop, and if you’ll be able to keep quiet enough not to wake the sleeping girl up the flight of stairs.

“Shit,” he’s cursing when your hand finds his bulge, “sweetheart, I-”

His breath is stuttered over your collarbone as you begin to palm him through his briefs. The nickname tumbling from his lips in a moan turns your stomach, effervescent champagne bubbles drifting up from your belly until they are suffocating your lungs. You gasp to relieve yourself of the pent-up anticipation as his left hand reaches the button of your shorts.

Shouto is careful as he unbuttons your pants, slipping the coarse fabric of your jeans down your thighs. As he squats down to help you out of them, all you can think of is what might happen if you were to grab him by the hair and force his mouth to your cunt.

Almost like he was reading your mind, he leans forward after he’s tossed your jeans to the other side of the kitchen floor and his mouth ghosts over your core. Your lower lip wobbles and you must bite your tongue to keep your mewling cries from tumbling out in excess. Todoroki kisses the top of your thigh, nose nudging over the edge of your lace underwear, his eyes closed so you cannot make out the expression settled in his ordinarily stoic irises.

“If you smell this good, I can only imagine how wonderful you taste,” Todoroki smirks against your skin, tilting his head so he can look up at you from his crouched position.

Your hips cant forward at the sentence, pussy already dripping just from the timbre of his deep voice. The vibrations of his word are like shockwaves straight to your core and you want to beg him to give you something, even a teasing lick over the center of your underwear.

Shouto kisses the little bow at the center of your panties, smiling as he snags the accent between the bite of his teeth and uses it to tug your underwear down your thighs. Your muscles tense, his ministrations slow and tantalizing. He chuckles and the sound shoots through your bones as if they were hollow like a feather, the warm honey of his laughter seeping slowly into your every pore and breaking down what remains of your resolve.

You have to cover your mouth with your hands when you yelp at the pad of his thumb brushing back the hood of your clit. His cool palm finds your thigh, just below the curve of your ass, and he stabilizes you with a firm grip, “Sit still, Princess.”

The authoritative tone of his voice turns your spine rigid, eyes facing the wall as he butterflies your pussy so he can see the silvery strands of slick built up between your layers of skin. He licks his lips and you feel the threatening heat of his tongue near your clit and you’re squirming. You are white knuckling the countertop, jaw under immense pressure as you clamp your teeth harshly.

He does not give you warning before delving his tongue between your folds, licking up your accumulated slick with one slow movement. His glittering grey iris tries to find your face, but the only thing he can make out is the line of your jaw and chin as your head is thrown back. Shouto chuckles before starting to explore the glutenous walls of your cunt with his tongue, his one hand still pressed into your thigh, fingers digging so hard that you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow morning.

Your body responds to him quickly, hips canting forward to buck against his mouth, begging for something more than just the quick slithering of his tongue in and out of you. In retaliation, Shouto presses his tongue flat, creating the illusion that it is thicker than before. You keen when he turns the pad of his thumb near your clit, close but not near enough.

“Sho’, please,” you pant, sweat beginning to bead up on your temples from the anticipation alone.

His cocky smirk is something you can sense when he speaks, but even further, you can feel it as he continues to lavish your pussy with his tongue. He huffs before standing to his feet, your slick mixed with his saliva giving his mouth a dangerous glint in the lowlight of the kitchen.

Shouto licks his lips as he steps closer to you again, bodies flush with one another. The hand that you know could burn you in an instant drifts down your side towards your pussy and you feel every muscle in your body clench at the thought of what kind of damage he could do to you if he tried.

Oh, and you’d let him.

You are about to beg him again, wanton moans vibrating your throat, but he intercepts you before you can lower your inhibitions any further. Shouto’s elongated middle finger slips just between your folds, using his saliva and your slick to lubricate his digit as he begins to pump up into you.

Todoroki Shouto is by no means a small man.

However, he is not so muscular that it looks like he is uncomfortable whenever he is walking. He is lean but built, which means that even though his hands are thick with muscle, they are not painful when pressed into your tight heat. Rather, they are snug and comfortable, his knuckle providing a pleasure you’ve not experienced before.

The tip of his finger brushes the spongy spot at the base of your core, and you swear you feel him in your spine. Shouto leans forward kiss you and you receive him quickly, desperate for some sort of tactile relief. He’s grinning into your lips, but you do not care so long as you find some reprieve from the coil beginning to twist within your stomach.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Todoroki whispers into your teeth as his tongue licks against your gums.

At his comment, you clench your cunt around his fingers, tightening your hold only to see how he will react. His hand stills for a moment, but then he is pushing another finger to accompany the first, splitting your cunt open despite the vice-like grip you have on his knuckle. He pumps until the base of his digits are finding the heat of your pussy, his fingerprints searing into your walls as you attempt to stay clamped around him.

Your legs begin to shake from the way you are holding yourself up on your toes, knees bent so you can be closer to his body. Todoroki feels the tremors in your thighs as his hand roams the dense muscle, whispering, “C’mere, love,” and then he’s picking you up gingerly.

Shouto hooks one of your legs around his waist at the knee, arching your back so your cunt is still butterflied open for him. Your other leg dangles from the countertop as he balances you on the edge.

The way his fingers work into you is nothing short of sinful, that white-hot flash of pleasure sinking into your eyelids slowly but surely. You begin to lose your peripheral vision as the impending ecstasy begins to settle in. The crest of the wave is close, his knuckles dragging salaciously against the innermost part of you.

Your jaw hangs open the closer you are to coming undone, panting breaths prying your lips apart. You feel utterly exposed in front of him like this, lewdly strewn against the counter that you were sipping rum and whiskey against not even a half hour ago. And yet, somehow, Shouto’s hand cradled against your shoulders is all you need to bring your self-consciousness down to a manageable level.

From this angle, you can reach down and pull Shouto’s briefs down so his cock can spring free. You’re palming at him as soon as you see the dark red of his cockhead. He stutter-steps forward when you pump him the first time, eyes close to bulging from their sockets at the sensation.

You twist his cock in your palm, running your thumb against the pearlescent bead of pre-come collected at the curve of his slit. Using what you can of the liquid, you drag your damp thumb down the length of his cock for slight lubrication. Shouto bucks into your hand when you bob your palm up and down to connect with the base of his pubic bone.

Now that you’re secure on the countertop, Shouto allows his free hand to wander around the curvatures of your body, mapping out the dips and contours of your frame. His hand is on your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, when your mouth drops open from a particularly pleasurable swipe of his fingers. Your cunt is dripping, and you’re honestly not sure if it even matters if you come, he should be able to slip right between your tight heat with ease.

“S’pretty,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek as his thumb brushes the bow of your bottom lip.

On instinct, your tongue laps towards the digit, silently begging for him to do more.

Shouto listens, dipping his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad of his finger into the thick muscle of your tongue. You lick and suck at him, rolling your mouth to match the pace of your hand as you work his hard cock towards release. Shouto fixes the rhythm of his fingers so every part of your bodies are going at the same speed.

The collective sensations of his hands and mouth are too much and you cry out, digging your free hand into his shoulder to attempt and ground yourself. You pant, looking up at him with bejeweled irises, tears sitting dormant on your lashes as a whine sits pretty on your lips.

“What is it?” he asks, borderline patronizing. “Are you gonna come on my fingers?”

Your lower lip trembles and you feel yourself slipping into some subservient headspace at the tone in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips to meet him as he slows his hand, “P-Please, Shouto, I-”

“I want you to come,” he murmurs into your ear, leaning forward so his breath is hot on your skin. The hand he has buried in your cunt begins to heat and the searing sensation sends your mind reeling. Shouto nudges his nose along your jawline, warmth creeping along the base of his palm, “C’mon, love, I want to see you come. Make a pretty little face for me, yeah?”

His words do little to quell the growing ache between your thighs, the pent-up need begging to be released. You clench around him again, not forgetting his cock between your hand. You continue to twist your wrist, flicking your fingers along the length of his dick, dragging with just enough pressure to make his eyes cross. Teasing the head, you drag the pad of your thumb over it, catching another swell of pre-come and trailing the liquid down the thick shaft.

You whimper his name, squeezing your eyes closed so harshly that the corners of your lids crinkle. Your sounds only grow louder when his mouth begins to suck at your nipple, massaging your breast in his chilled hand. The crystallization of ice draws your attention, a frozen cold so intense that it almost feels hot in its own unique way.

There is a stinging excitement at the duality of the temperatures that grow further apart the longer he activates his quirk. Your nipples pebble while your pussy floods from the heat, copious amounts of slick trickling down his fingers to pool in the creases of his palm. Shouto murmurs obscenities against your earlobe but you’re in such a realm of fevered phrenzy that you can’t make out he’s even speaking English.

“Sh-Shouto, I-I’m close,” you manage, feeling the way his cock throbs beneath your touch helping to bring you back to the cusp of reality. You dive deep again when his fingertips brush against your cervix, allowing his passion to force you beneath the surface.

His thumb is circling your clit as he murmurs, “C’mon, darling, I know you can do it. Come for me, yeah?”

It’s as if his words united with his caress are enough to shove you head-first into the pool of desire. You are whimpering, cunt fluttering around his fingers as your come drips down the crevices of his palm. Your release reaches his wrist, milky liquid tickling his skin.

“Atta girl,” he kisses your cheek, fingers stilling for a moment to allow you to collect yourself. You continue to ride out your high by bucking your hips over his knuckles, slippery fingers easily providing you the rest of the comfort you need to come down from your high.

“Your turn.”

You’re pushing your way off the countertop when the creaking of the stairs makes your heart still within your chest.

Shouto’s stare flickers from you to the staircase, jaw hung open as he analyzes the sound. When another step echoes in the hallway, he’s quick to yank his briefs and sweats back over his hips. He helps you into your shorts, the silvery strands of your release forgotten as he tugs the fabric up your hips.

You’ve just gotten your pants buttoned when Hana’s teetering figure creates a shadow on the kitchen floor.

“Daddy?” she whimpers, fists digging into her tear-filled eyes.

Shouto swipes his hands against his sweats before crouching in front of her. His palms find her sides quickly, thumbs grazing her rib cage in an attempt at comfort, “Hey, love,” the sound of the nickname makes something stir within your belly, “what’re you doing awake?”

Hana swallows a hiccup, “I-I had a bad dream.”

You step forward, pressing your hand to Shouto’s shoulder, offering a gentle nudge of comfort. Hana blinks up at you, jeweled irises focused on your face, “M-Momma?”

The title holds a weight you had not prepared to carry.

She’s all but forgotten Todoroki, pushing past him to barrel into your shin, wrapping her stubby arms around your knee. She wipes her face against the skin of your thigh, sniffling louder as a fresh wave of tears takes over her body. Her shoulders shudder and you don’t have time to wonder whether she’s cognizant enough to realize that she’s just called you her mother.

You scoop her up in your arms, holding her gingerly by the back and head, and she wraps her legs around your midsection to anchor her little body to your torso like a frightened animal. Hana buries her head into your neck, tears sticking to your skin and creating an unbearable heat.

“You’re not leaving, right?” Hana whimpers, “I-I had a dream that you left.”

In an effort to comfort her, you run your fingers through her hair, gently separating the strands so your nails can scratch her scalp. You kiss her temple, “Of course not, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

She retracts from your neck and a rush of cool air washes over you. Her irises are swallowed by her pupils, thick droplets of tears wetting her cheeks. You smile, forcing yourself to forget the way you were just about to jump her father’s bones, and brush your nose against hers in an eskimo kiss.

“It was just a dream, babe,” you comfort her, making sure you are looking at her directly when you say it so she feels much more solid in the reality that you are here to stay. A soothing hand reaches forward to couple with yours, thumb tracing the bump of her shoulder.

Todoroki kisses the back of her head, “Hana, there’s no need to worry, love.”

“I already lost one mommy,” Hana sounds ancient when she speaks, voice far away and intelligent beyond her young years, “I don’t wanna lose another one.”

Your voice is lodged in your throat now, tears of your own pressing threateningly against the back of your eyes. You try to swallow but the shards of your heart are blocking your windpipe, cutting off your oxygen. Todoroki slips his hands beneath Hana’s armpits, separating her from you so he can cradle her body against his chest, “You’re not losing anyone, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You take this as your cue to leave, grabbing your things as Todoroki takes Hana back up the stairs to her bedroom.

A sense akin to despair settles in your chest, restraining your heart in such a way that makes it difficult to breathe. The world seems to settle atop your shoulders and in the next moments you have turned into Atlas, forced to hold the earth up by your careless grip. Tears settle in your lids as you pull away from the Todoroki residence.

Something tells you that things will never be the same.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

As much as you hate it, that little voice eating away at the back of your mind was right.

The looming reality that Todoroki is avoiding you does little to satisfy the curiosity settled in your bones, affecting you down to the marrow.

Ever since that night, he hardly looks you in the eye.

In fact, he’s barely even around to see you at all.

Todoroki leaves for work before you can emerge from the bathroom with Hana in tow, fresh from a bubble bath and ready for breakfast. He slips back through the doors late at night, normally after eight, so Hana is either passed out with you on the couch or curled up beneath her covers in her bedroom. There is not another time where he touches you gingerly on the shoulder and guides you back to bed, not anymore.

You have wondered many times if you should approach him, beg him for some sort of explanation. Not only is his distance affecting you, but it’s turning Hana into a child you hardly recognize. She is still cheerful a majority of the time, begging you to play princesses and watch Bubble Guppies. But there are times when she turns angry, ripping the heads off her dolls and trying to sabotage Todoroki’s work clothes by drawing on his shoes or dropping her glass of morning milk on his suit jacket.

You start to cook his meals the day before, packaging them up in a Tupperware container that’s always gone when you check at breakfast the next morning. You are not a blind woman, and you normally choose to indulge his silly game of hide and seek instead of confronting him about what happened that night.

However, tonight, you’ve had enough.

Even though he’s decided to spend the weekend at home for the first time in a few weeks, you’ve never felt more on edge. Hana is extremely irritable, nightmares plaguing her mind during the time she’s supposed to be sleeping, and it would seem there is nothing you can ever do to satiate her throughout the day.

Playing princess is boring, coloring is stressful, blowing bubbles is stupid.

You are reaching the end of your rope and Shouto’s evasive presence does little to satiate your temperamental moods. You clutch at the cusp of sanity, praying that it will not leave you just yet; the only thing holding your tongue back from lashing out is the sliver of discretion that you’ve managed to sustain in spite of the day’s events.

“Hey, uh-” Todoroki’s voice is strained as he stands in the archway of the kitchen, “Would you mind making us a couple of sandwiches? I think Hana is getting hungry.”

The warmth from the dishwater gives you something other than his irises to focus on, your eyesight directed downward, “Sure. What would you like?”

“Let’s just do peanut butter and jelly,” Shouto shrugs nonchalantly. “Grape, if we have it.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of a specific flavor. You are certain that if you were to look into the refrigerator that you would not find grape jelly, but it’s obvious that Shouto is otherwise unknowing.

“Grape?” you echo, pulling your hands from the dishwater to wipe them on your hand towel. “You think that’s a smart choice?”

Shouto scoffs and it stings so much that you turn your head away from him, eyes now focused on the floor beneath your feet, “Yes, I’m sure. Why does it matter anyway?”

“Oh, no reason.” You pluck a jar of strawberry jelly from the refrigerator and begin to prepare the countertop for your sandwich making.

He takes a step forward to protest, but you’re waving the knife in his direction before he can stride across the tile, “You listen to me, Todoroki. And you listen good.”

Shouto pauses, throat bobbing as his line of sight zeroes in on your lips. His eyes widen, pupils swallowing his irises in fear. The knife wavering in your grasp holds much more weight than any other butter knife he’s come into contact with.

“We don’t have any grape jelly because your daughter is allergic to grapes.”

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the butter knife in your hand, “And if you were ever here you might notice a thing or two, such as an allergy to something that could, I dunno, kill her?!”

The sound of your voice raising an octave or two reverberates off of the walls and thrums at Shouto’s heartstrings. He swallows thickly, but you’re not done tearing into him just yet.

“This little charade you’ve got going on has got to end.” Your voice is desperate, unhinged, and you feel the honesty scrape against the front of your throat, “Your daughter is turning into someone you can barely recognize, and you’re not far behind her.”

Silence envelopes the room, and the only thing you’re able to hear is your heart beating frantically in your own ears. As your pulse thuds rapidly, rushing like a river of thick emotion throughout your body, you feel your palms begin to sweat. The longer you keep quiet, the louder the sound grows.

Finally, after giving him a few minutes to respond, you press the tops of your fists into your hips, glaring down your nose at him, “If you want me gone, all you had to do was ask. I thought we respected one another enough for that.”

You slap together two sandwiches quickly, tossing the plates onto the counter for him to pick up on his own before you turn and walk from the room. You’re unable to look at him any longer, not sure if it’s the loitering reality that you may have to move on from this chapter of your life or the loss of a generous paycheck and living situation that wraps your heart like the talons of a bird, squeezing until you can’t breathe.

The tumultuous roll of emotions scrapes away at your chest, and you’re surprised that there isn’t blood gushing from your ribs. You lean back against your closed door, head tilted backward to stave off the tears, saltine droplets coating your lashes as they sit in your ducts, pending the gentle sway of your neck to drip down your cheeks.

You aren’t sure how long you stay this way, crumbled against your door with the heat of disappointment building smoke in your lungs. It’s difficult to breathe, a dizziness taking over your mind that you’ve never felt quite so acutely before. You cradle your head in your hands, massaging your temples with your thumbs to try and mitigate the oncoming migraine.

A knock sounds at your door and you jump, hand pressed over your frantic heart, “Y-Yes?”

“Can-Can I come in?”

Shouto.

The sound of his voice does little to staunch the metaphorical puncture wound in your chest. You flex your hands before standing to your feet and opening the door, allowing him to step over the threshold into your room.

“Listen, I think there’s just-”

“No,” you interrupt, a short breath filling your lungs, “I’m going first.”

Todoroki’s eyes dilate, his feet stuttering backward as he takes in your assertive sentence. He grits his teeth, jaw quivering under the stress, but keeps his lips sealed in spite of desperately wanting to speak out.

“If you don’t want me here, you could have just said so.” You wring your hands together, knuckles knocking against one another as you twist your fingers. You close your eyelids and inhale a deep breath, “What happened, u-us kissing, wasn’t professional, and I apologize. But what you’re doing to Hana?”

You flare your nostrils as your hands turn to fists at your side. Todoroki watches you closely, eyes never wavering from your frame as he takes in your quivering, quiet fury. Your jaw muscles tense and you force your eyes to meet his, despite the glossiness settled in them, “You’re never here, Shouto. You missed her ballet recital last week, then you forgot she was allergic to grapes, and now you’re not seeing what’s directly in front of you!”

The more you speak, the louder you become. You can feel your cheeks heating, the tears building up in your eyelids with every syllable. Your fists clench at your sides, and your fingernails dig irately into your palms, so harshly that you swear you might draw blood. Each word draws out an anger in you that you didn’t realize you were harboring, like a fugitive sitting in the cage of your chest, tugging on the bars of your heart as they beg to be broken free.

“Hana deserves better than this, and you know it, Todoroki. So if you don’t get your head out of your ass,” your lower lip wobbles and you reach forward to poke him directly in the chest, index finger dug into the space between his pectorals, “you’re going to lose your daughter.”

You’re shaking your head and your fist as the next sentence comes tumbling from your lips, heart strings fully wound as you speak, “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is, but if it’s me, then I’ll leave.”

Shouto’s brow furrows as he looks down his nose at you, “Are you finished?”

The deadpan of his voice stirs something in your belly, something like an acrid fire that plumes in your chest, the smoke of it all curling around your throat and begging to be spewed like acid from your tongue. Your teeth grind into each other, a creaking sound echoing in your own ears. The way your heart twists in your chest makes it difficult to breathe, but you manage.

“Fuck you, Todoroki.”

You go to turn away from him, your hand falling from his chest, when he snatches you by the wrist, repeating his question, “Are you finished?”

A small remaining sliver of your patience sits heavy on your chest, forcing you to nod your head. Regardless of how you feel about him, Todoroki Shouto is an important man, and you need to leave here a dignified woman. If you make a scene, if you flash your fists and bare your teeth, it’s possible you won’t have another job ever again.

“I don’t want you to quit,” his voice is breathless, an octave higher than normal; he almost sounds sick, “but there is a problem.”

The anticipation of what he might say next brings back that acidic wash in your belly, throat squeezed shut by the clamped hands of insecurity and doubt. Shouto takes a careful step forward, mindful of your personal space as he does so. His fingers never leave your wrist, circled around your arm even as it’s pulled away from his body.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

To say that the world stopped spinning was an understatement.

You feel the whole planet turn on its axis, your body undergoing vertigo as the metaphorical rug is yanked out from beneath your feet. Your stomach flips, the acid molting into lava, hot and sticky as it licks up against your skin, pooling just below your navel. His grip is too restrictive, and you can tell your body is beginning to shift into panic mode.

“You’re right,” he barges in on your internal monologue of self-hatred, eyes boring into your soul, “I’ve been a shitty father, which is painful for me to admit. But it’s the truth.”

The conviction in his voice is solid, and you know that he is being authentic. Todoroki has a clouded past when it comes to his father, Enji. You are aware of the influence his estranged parents have on his relationship with his child, which is one of the reasons his distance has troubled you. Every time he has had enough vulnerability to allow you to peek into the glass panes of his soul, he’s shown you the scars that Endeavor has left on him.

Todoroki uses his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb under your chin to pull your attention back to him, “I tried to distance myself from you to get a better grasp on the way I was feeling.”

His palm grazes down the column of your throat, his eyes careful not to stray to close to your lips or else he’ll get distracted. Your mouth bobs open but you have nothing to say, and the bewildered expression on your face makes him laugh. The sound of his baritone chuckle does little to quell the storm raging beneath your skin, lighting striking with every single touch of his fingers and thunder booming in your chest at the sound of his voice.

“For the longest time, I believed I would never love anyone again after my wife passed away.” The feel of his knuckles slipping between yours, palm searing into you despite it being his right side. At the mention of his wife, your whole being begins to shudder, the weight of expectations and self-doubt pressing into your chest like a mass you cannot remove.

Todoroki swallows the lump in his throat, neck bobbing, “I was content with it just being Hana and I for the rest of our lives, us against the world, until you came along. You fit so perfectly into our family, sliding in seamlessly as if you’d been here the whole time. You managed to win Hana over in a day and now she can’t stop talking about you. And then, when Hana called you mom, it threw me.”

Shouto’s eyes are intense as they stare into you, narrowed and attentive. The odd combination of one blue, one grey, is hard to grasp, unsure of where you should look specifically. His fingers against your neck card through your hair, keeping you anchored to him and this world.

“It was easier for me to dive into work because I knew I’d have you here to pick up the pieces,” Shouto admits, his gaze finally breaking away from your face to narrow focus to his sock-clad feet. “I was so weak for you that I couldn’t bear it. And then you and Hana both suffered for my cowardice.”

A wave of destiny washes over you, looming like a shadow, begging you to make a decision.

“Todoroki, this is-”

“I told you,” his thumb grazes your cheekbone, “not to call me that.”

Your jaw hangs open and tears cloud your vision, and you want to smile no matter how hard your body fights against you. Your lower lip quivers and you shake your head, saltine droplets lingering on your cheeks, “I-I can’t, Shouto. I’m not right for you and Hana, I’m not-oh.”

His mouth slots against yours, angled perfectly to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. Shouto’s hands are on your face, holding you in place so you can’t run from him, despite how every cell under your skin is screaming to bolt from your place.

As he parts from you, you’re left in a daze of euphoria, eyes half-lidded, mouth still pursed as you chase after him, pleading for more.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip before retreating to trace your jawline.

And you know that you can’t; your body has already betrayed your words with the simple action of a kiss. Your hands follow suit, wrapped around the fabric of his shirt to keep him close, frightened he might leave you all over again.

Shouto’s hands drift down your abdomen, slow against your rib cage as if he were counting each bone to make sure they were all there, safe and sound. He kisses your forehead and then your nose, mouth hovering over the bow of your lips, eyes begging you even though his voice is caught in his lungs.

You say a stupid thing then, just something meant to break up the quiet, but with the floaty tone of your voice it breeds for much more wicked thoughts.

“Your lips are really warm.”

Shouto laughs before devouring you at the seam of your mouth, leaning forward to scoop you up in his arms, hands dug in at your thighs. You squeal against his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, your fingers dipping into the muscle of his shoulders for an anchor.

He’s got you back against the bed before you can breathe again, leaning back on his thighs so he can pull his shirt over his head with ease. Your palms are like magnets to his abdomen, fingerprints finding each curve and dip of his muscle, praying you can map it out so you might memorize it for the times when he’s not able to be this close.

As his fingertips graze beneath the hem of your shirt, your eyes go wide, stuttering breath accompanied by panicked words, “H-Hana? Is she-”

Shouto chuckles, “She’s laid down for her nap. We have about two hours.”

The devilish glint in his eyes does little to quell the rampant thoughts running in your mind. You suddenly want to feel his hands and mouth everywhere on your body, insatiable in your lust for his touch.

“Sh-Shouto, please,” you’re panting and he hasn’t even undressed you yet, “need you.”

A devout confession such as that one, something so primal in its nature, shifts his demeanor from playful to sinful. Now his fingertips are dancing beneath your shirt, palming over your skin like he might find a hidden treasure in your bones.

He shakes his head, nose grazing your cheek as he starts towards your collarbone, “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“Need you.”

You are quick in your answer, eyes screwed shut at the tantalizing ministrations of his fingers on your flesh. He is teasing you, just close enough to your breast that it hitches your breathing, but not too close to where you can feel pleasure. A hot wash of arousal rolls into your body, slick beginning to gather between your thighs.

“More specific,” the words are muttered around the skin of your chest, one of his hands tugging on your collar to bare more of your body to him.

You whine, bucking your hips upward, knowing exactly the shape his cock will be in beneath the underwear that has him caged from you. You reach forward and tug at the waistline of his briefs, “Please, Shouto, I want to feel you.”

At the mention of feel, he takes you by surprise as he slips two fingers between your folds, curling into you quickly. You muffle your whine into the pillow, turning your face so your cheek is smushed against the downy cushion. Shouto’s palm that isn’t occupied with your tight heat tugs your shirt up over the tops of your breasts, baring your chest to the cool air of the bedroom.

“You are feeling me, sweetheart,” he teasingly licks over your nipple, thankful for the lack of a bra separating you from his wanton tongue.

Another moan drags salaciously from your lips, vibrating your throat and making his cock twitch, “Sho’, wan’ your cock. Please.”

You’re able to drag his pants and briefs down at once, his cock springing free from the restricting fabric. When it bobs against his abdomen, enflamed red cockhead leaking pre-come, you feel saliva build up in the back of your throat. You start to pump him as best you can, watching as his weighty balls swing under your touch.

Everything about him is enticing, from his dual-toned hair to his heterochromatic eyes to his chiseled body. You’d use your tongue on every part of him if he’d let you, but right now you’re focused on only one thing.

Once Shouto has coaxed enough of your arousal to coat his hand, he curls his fingers into you one last time, collecting the silvery fluid on his fingers, and then stands to step out of his clothes. You keen at the loss of contact, eyes wide open so you don’t miss a second.

“C’mon, baby, take your clothes off for me.”

At his command, you’re stripping down until you’re bare in front of him, clothes in a pool of fabric on the floor right next to his. Even the simple intimacy of his clothing overlapped with yours does things to your heart, a pinpricking sensation making your skin heat.

“Hi,” he whispers, fingers framing your face as you get lost in his touch. His voice is gentle, and his touch is probing in the best of ways, a genuine smile tugging his lips upward as you echo the word back to him.

You can feel your arousal tumbling within the confines of your body, begging to be put to use as you feel his cock against your thigh. Todoroki guides you back into the mattress, shoulders pressing into the cool sheets, your body given some sort of contrast to the molten heat circulating under your skin. Your blushed skin draws Shouto’s attention, eyes dragging over each inch of your body, mesmerized by your beauty.

Todoroki shakes his head, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

And at the end of his sentence, acting like punctuation, his cock slides between your heat.

Your eyelids flutter shut and your hands are on him in an instant, nails dug into his flesh to try and dispel some of the energy already built up within your fragile body. Shouto feels lightning spark up into his spine, the trails of it striking his hidden heart, licking at the edges of the glass box keeping him imprisoned from the world.

As your cunt clenches around him and your mouth utters his name like a prayer, Shouto can tell that his chest is constricting, tightening around his heart in an attempt to break himself free from the confines of his past.

“Sho’,” you’re mewling for him now as the veins of his cock drag salaciously against your tight, glutenous walls. Silvery slick coats his dick and he moans as your pussy clamps again.

He begins to build up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb brushing over your clit slowly, the very beginning of a pleasurable end building up within your belly. His mouth is attached to anything on you he can find – breast, collarbone, jaw, throat, cheek. Teeth and tongue lash out at you, parting his mouth so his heated breath can wash over your body.

Shouto focuses as best he can on forcing heat down the length of his arm, pinpointing the warmest point onto the tip of his thumb. You preen, eyes bulging out of your sockets well enough that he can translate your pleasure. On the opposing hand, the one currently preoccupied with your nipple, begins to freeze. Gooseflesh trembles on his arm but he does not mind, not when he gets to hear your panting whines of his name mixed with the begging sounds of please, please, please.

“Such a good girl,” Shouto murmurs into the thin skin of your throat, tongue delving from between his lips to lavish your jugular. “So pretty, laid out just for me.”

You nod your head as best you can, eyes wide as you drink in his praise. Your mouth bobs open but you can’t form words, not anything intelligent anyway. Shouto reaches his icy thumb towards your lips, brushing his cool touch over the heated skin, steam wafting between the two of you.

“Have you been thinking about this as long as I have?” he asks rhetorically, not expecting you to answer based on the fucked out look in your eyes, the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as his body makes quick work of you. Shouto grunts, “I’ve wanted to take you against every damn surface in this house for months.”

His left hand peels from your clit, running up over the curve of your thigh to press beneath your knee, pushing your leg upward so he can thrust into you from a better angle. Your hands are stuck on the sheets now, his body just out of reach thanks to the twisting of your hips. Shouto slams into you, balls slapping your ass as he ruts forward.

You feel his cock harden even further from within the confines of your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongy corner of your insides. After another deep thrust he’s bottomed out within you, hips absolutely flush with your thighs as he presses into you.

Shouto leans forward, not daring to pull himself away from you just yet, enjoying the way you envelope him fully, “You think you can come for me, love? I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Y-Yes, Shouto, I-I’m getting there, almost,” you promise him, eyes fucked out to the point you can barely make sense of his frame loitering above you. Your lower lip wobbles as you pout, “A-Are you gonna-fuck-want you to come in me.”

It’s a simple sentence, but the weight of it makes Todoroki’s heart stop. He knows you’re on preventatives, he’s had to stay home with Hana to cover during the day for your doctor’s visits. But something stirs at the base of his cock, weighing in the thick of his body, and for some reason he wishes you were his for the taking in every sense of the word.

As you whimper beneath him, his eyes trail over your body, landing on your belly. His fiery touch grazes the swell of your stomach where he knows his cock is pressed deep within you. His balls throb at the thought of coating every inch of you in his spend, you begging for more as it leaks out of you and onto the sheets; him drawing you into another round just to make sure that you’re stuffed full.

Suddenly, a fracture within his chest allows him to breathe deeper. As you buck your hips into him, begging him for more, telling him how good he’s making you feel, Shouto recognizes the fragile box surrounding his heart, guarding it from the world, has begun to shatter.

“Shouto, please,” you are begging him now, glassy eyes and pitched tone designed just for him, “Need to feel you, everywhere.”

Your plea is the final rock thrown at the glass box, cracking it in every direction. Shards of emotion lodge in his throat, tearing into him so he cannot breathe. As he gasps for breath, fingers digging into your skin, he knows he’s bruising you but he can’t bring himself to think of it as anything other than finally marking you down at his.

And then, when your breathy voice curls in the air, settling on his chest like a balm, he feels the glass melt away, turning to liquid fire in his gut. The words you utter tear open his heart, leaving a gaping, belligerent wound that he knows only you can mend.

“I love you, Shouto, I love you too.”

His eyes find yours, wide and wanting. You nod as if that will solidify his place in the universe, tears blurring your vision, repeating the sentiment over and over again, uncaring to the way your face looks glassy beneath the lowlight of the bedroom. You just need him to know, need him to understand.

“Shit,” he pushes the heel of his palm into the bottom of your stomach, itching to feel the way his cock pulses in and out of you as he thrusts into your body. His thoughts are even more permanent now, the idea of filling you up, pouring his body into you in the most primal way possible, is the only thing he can see. Your hand makes its way into his hair, tugging at the crown of his head as you lean forward.

A mix of crimson and white is bunched between your fists, matching the little tufts of hair that tickle your pelvis every time he bottoms out within you. You scrape your nails against his scalp, but that only spurs him on faster, panting moans busting his throat open and begging you for more.

Your lashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks, mouth parted so he can see the pink of your tongue, “Sh-Sho’, I’m close.”

He makes it his mission to twitch his cock within your walls, providing an extra layer of stimulation as his channels himself into you mercilessly. Somehow, he does it with such a finesse that it does not feel rushed or sloppy. Shouto is very careful, precise, in everything he does, and you are not surprised it works its way into the mannerisms he exhibits between the sheets as well.

“C’mon, darling,” he coos into your ear, folding your thighs upward so you’re fully pressed into the mattress, “I want you to come for me, yeah? I want you to coat my cock. You can do it, you’re close, I can feel it.”

His praise intertwined with the thickness of his cock bulging within you breaks the crest of the wave, allowing pleasure to flow through your body and onto his cock, coating him in your thick, sweet release.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Shouto continues to thrust upward into you, eyes focused on your face as he uses your cunt to bring his own euphoria down from the clouds. He’s looking down at you, jaw hung wide as he buries his cock into your tight heat, enjoying the way your slick lubricates his length.

You buck up into him and he drops his head to your collarbone, thrusts becoming sloppier the longer he tries to hang on to the edge of the cliff. Your hand in his hair tugs on the strands, mouth by his ear as you whisper, “Please, Shouto, want to feel you come in me. I want you to pump me full of your hot load, stuff me-ah.”

His hips stutters as he releases his seed into you, tongue lapping at your throat carelessly to try and force his body not to start up again. The need to feel you coming around him, begging for his cock and come, is something he has been denying for too long.

“I love you,” he whispers into the curve of your earlobe, nipping at the skin as his hips still. “Fuck, I love you.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to the curve of his scalp, “I love you too.”

As he reaches the extent of his high, he presses his body flat into you, cock twitching within your core. Your palms find his shoulders, grazing gently with your fingernails until he’s moaning into your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin.

“Unless you want to go again, I suggest you put an end to that,” he warns, but there is no intent behind it.

You laugh, rubbing your ankle against his calf, “We’ve got a little one about to wake from her nap. Maybe later.”

And that is a promise you fully intend to keep.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Momma?”

You turn your head, pancakes on the griddle in front of you, “Yes, honey?”

Hana bounces towards you, white chiffon dress bubbling out at her knees, “When is breakfast ready?”

“When daddy gets back from his run,” you answer her, squatting in front of her to smooth the wrinkles from the fabric of her dress. “I made yours with choco-chips.”

Her eyes go wide and you feel a little sunbeam shining directly on your heart, warming your chest. She grabs you by the cheeks, palms squishing your lips together, “You can’t tell daddy!”

“Oh, I won’t,” you promise, voice distorted from the way she has you in her grasp. You brush a hand through her silver curls, tucking the strands away from her face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Don’t tell daddy what?”

Hana squeals, turning on her heels to sprint towards the garage door. She’s on Shouto’s leg in an instant, clutching him like her life depends on it. You stand back to your feet, brushing your thighs clean before turning back to the griddle to start another round of pancakes.

“We can’t tell you or else it won’t be a secret, duh!” Hana sticks her tongue out as she pokes Shouto’s leg, rolling her eyes like it should be obvious. “Look, Momma’s making pancakes!”

Todoroki looks across the room at you, eyes reminding you of colorful gems as they behold you. Every time you catch him staring at you, you swear it’s even more infatuated than the last, his love for you only growing as time passes.

“Is she?” He peels her from his leg to shift her into his arms, holding her securely against his side. Todoroki walks over to you, leaning into the counter so he’s close enough that you can reach him but far enough that he can’t burn Hana on the griddle.

“You’re back quicker than I expected,” you admit, pouring batter out onto the stovetop. You grab the spatula, prepared to flip once they look done enough, “Did you pull something?”

Shouto shakes his head, leaning forward to intercept you with a kiss to the lips, “I just missed you.”

“Ew, gross! Kissing means cooties!” Hana pushes your faces apart, a hand on your mouths as she dramatically lolls her tongue out of her mouth to prove her disgust.

You chuckle, leaning forward to brush her hair from her eyes again, tucking it behind her ear even though you know it will spring forward not long after. Your eyes flash from her to her father, watching the pride settle into his irises, solidifying them even more. A gentle touch of your hand to his bicep brings him back to you, gaze unwavering as he maps out the features of your face yet again, each time finding something new to behold.

“Well, that means you have time to shower before we eat,” you squeeze his arm and return to your station at the griddle, flipping the next set of pancakes. “I’ve still got to make eggs and bacon, and some hash browns for the princess.”

Hana is beaming, bright smile tugging on the strings of your heart, “Momma makes the best hash browns.”

Todoroki places her back down on the ground, patting her backside as a silent gesture to tell her to go play. She takes his hint, sprinting back into the living room to resume her tea party with a stuffed elephant and a Ken barbie doll.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You never-ooh.”

He’s got you by the neck with one hand, the other anchoring to your hip to hold you close. Todoroki melds your mouths together, the heat of his body quickening your pulse. He steps closer, knee between your thighs so you can feel the hard bulge pressing into the fabric of his running shorts.

You hum as he parts from you, pancakes momentarily forgotten in the wake of his affections. You pat your hands on his chest, gnawing on your lower lip, “Smooth one, Todoroki.”

Shouto pinches your hip, growing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You. Me. Nap time.”

“Oh?” you ask as he unwinds himself from you, nudging your body back towards the griddle.

“And I’m not talking about sleeping.”

Todoroki disappears from around the corner, slipping up the stairs to your now shared bedroom.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips. When you go to turn this set of pancakes, the diamond sitting on your left hand catches the luminescent lights of the kitchen and you marvel at it. You roll your ring around on your finger, trying to find a different angle to appreciate it from, but you’ve already memorized the shape of it after three years of marriage.

Your palm finds the gentle swell of your navel beneath the baggy t-shirt you’re wearing, one of Shouto’s early proofs for a new merchandise design. You bite your lip and look down, speaking to the rustling new life currently blooming in your belly, “Here’s to tomorrow, little one. May it always be just a little better than today.”

The pancakes are done and the bacon is sizzling when Shouto returns with damp hair and a pair of sweats on the lower half of his body. He curls an arm around you from behind, kissing your shoulder, “Smells good, love.”

You turn to offer him a kiss, which he takes with fervor. Hana voices her disgust from her seat at the table, but Shouto hushes her quickly with a playful rise of his eyebrow, pointed finger making her giggle.

The three of you are sat down to breakfast, just like any other Saturday, but this one feels special for some reason. You can’t quite make it out; maybe it’s the sun shining outside or the crisp breeze blowing through the open windows, but your soul is settled in a way that can only be achieved by utter bliss.

“Hey,” Shouto calls you from your stupor, “your choco-chip pancakes are going cold.”

You blink slowly, returning your gaze to him, a gentle smile on your face.

At least you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with someone as mindful and kind as Todoroki Shouto.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

taglist: @bakugous-forehead @kamehamethot @burnedbyshoto @rivendell101 @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @bitchtrynafck @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki​ @todorki-shoto​ @bakuoushoe​ @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @tenyaingenium​ @lxvely-mha​ @myherorambles​ @ramen-rambles​ @honeytama​ @sleepysuneater​ @bratwritings​ @samanthaa-leanne​ @orokayagi​ @whats-her-quirk​ @riotfuckery​ @sunbeamwrites​ @bnhawritten​ @aizawamirite​ @lovekatsukibakugo​ @suckersuki​ @secondhand-trash​ @yaoyorozuwrites​ @kingtamakimurder​

[alreadyblondenow]

Touched by a god

▸ Jungwoo x reader  ▸ 2.6k words ▸ Fluff, Smut, Angst lol I tried ▸ A Megara story hehe. kissing, public sex, oral (female receiving), cheating?, lucas is here, major character death. just bc 1000 day since debut, we love u zeus. 

“Do you want to play hide and seek?” 

“No” you answered sternly. 

“If I give you a basket of berries, will you play with me?” 

You stopped walking and looked at Jungwoo. Your mother strictly told you never to talk to the gods or to the young prince who’s the same age as you. But Jungwoo is a lonely prince, and he wants to have a friend. He has been bugging you since he saw you hide under the apple tree. “I’m going to get in trouble if I play with you,” you said to the prince, trying to get away from his presence. 

“Hmm. Well then let’s hide from everyone and play? I don’t have any friends, you can be my first friend if you want to” 

His offer was not hard to refuse because honestly, you’re bored to death. No one can know that you’re friends with the son of Zeus. “Where will we hide?” 

“Come on I’ll show you!” Jungwoo’s smile was from ear to ear while tugging your arm as he wants you to follow him quickly. 

For years and years, following Jungwoo is always the best decision you made. He is the reason why your life is full of adventures, wonders, and learnings. Being a daughter of a slave was never a problem to Jungwoo, he did not care about where you came from. The prince thinks you crave knowledge but you don’t know that you are already smart, you are very honest when it comes to your thoughts just so you can’t lie to him, the way you call his name ‘Jungwoo’ is something he would like to hear every day instead of you calling him 'prince', and the more you two stay as good friends, Jungwoo is falling hard for you. He kept it for the longest time, as long as you stay beside him and became his only friend, your adventure continues and grows. But more importantly, he can admire you closely and love you silently. And because you’re smart and the prince is becoming bold with his feelings each day passes, soon he proved his feelings for you but not quite admitting it yet. He holds your hand, whisper beautiful and sweet words to you, he sings for you, brings you flowers whenever he can, and he makes you happy every day. Jungwoo tried so much to hide his feelings until the right time comes because he doesn’t want you to get in trouble. Slaves are not allowed to be friends with gods, and more importantly, fall in love. 

Today, he brought you to the waterfalls. You two just turned twenty and to your surprise, the prince finally confessed his feelings to you. Which you can’t accept obviously, “Took you long enough, but I’m sorry my prince this is wrong” it pains you to hurt his feelings of course, but he can get into trouble too if you dive in with him.

 “We don’t need to worry. When did I ever put you in danger?” he came closer to you as you two stood in front of the waterfalls. He was confident, and his presence can make you feel safe and is urging you to let go and fall in love with him. As he keeps you close to his body, he caressed your cheek and slowly came close to you until your lips touched. 

“Tell me, what did you feel after we kissed?” 

You weren’t planning on lying because Jungwoo can always see right through you, so you told him the truth with every bravery you have. “Happy and somehow I felt blessed by the gods. How can a prince fall in love with a slave? I have nothing to offer” you said, pouring your feelings like how the waterfalls continue to flow. 

“I’m not asking for too much like the other gods. I just want you to love me back. I have loved you for the longest time and I am willing to be a normal human being for you-“ 

“Don’t say that. You don’t have to sacrifice what you truly are for me because I accept you for who you are just how you accept me”

And ever since that night you and Jungwoo loved each other deeply in your own little world. Away from every threat, away from reality. And as you get older you became even more beautiful that Jungwoo became greedy when it comes to you. He hates it when the other gods mention you, he even hates it when the other gods look at you. During the banquet where every slave is needed to serve the guests, the god of the underworld, Jungwoo’s cousin was attracted to you to the point that he became obsessed with your existence. 

“Back off cousin, we are in love with each other” Jungwoo said while sipping on his glass of wine. 

His cousin Lucas just smirked and watched you walk around the hall serving wine. When he called you to pour him some wine, Jungwoo was watching you like a hawk, nervous for his own cousin. “I will make you mine” Lucas whispers to you. 

After that day, you shrugged it off and forget about it. No need to tell Jungwoo, you didn’t want him to get angry at his own family. Instead, you shower him with kisses and love when you two finally met at your usual hiding place. The grass feels warm on your skin as you lay comfortably on it, enjoying Jungwoo’s kisses on your neck. The view of the clear sky while feeling Jungwoo’s lips on your skin felt like freedom. Freedom because you don’t feel like a slave and although a god is kissing you right now, you don’t feel like he owns you like some kind of material thing. This is the feeling of being loved deeply.

“Where are you my love?” he asks, bringing you back to your little world. When you meet Jungwoo’s eyes, you returned his kisses, and this time you’re the one who goes on top of him. And because you two are becoming even more touchy these past few days, when one of your sleeves fell from your shoulder and expose a good amount of skin, just enough to make the prince beneath you hard, you smiled innocently and removed the other sleeve. Leaving your breast, fully exposed to Jungwoo. Without hesitation, he kissed you hungrily and knead your breast and pinch your nipple according to his liking. He made you lay down on the grass again and with your permission, he lifts your dress and caresses your inner thighs until his fingers shamelessly go inside your damped underwear. You moan quietly and spread your legs wider so he can have more access. He removed his fingers for a second, remove his clothes, and went in between your legs. “Beautiful,” he says, kissing your knee and slowly removing your underwear. 

“What if anyone sees us?” you moan out while watching him situate himself between your legs. 

“We’ve been going here for years, that’s impossible” he smiled and spread kisses on your heck again. Hands gently cupping your breast, “If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop” he says, warning you about his godlike strength. You feel him grind on your body while your eyes were closed and just feeling him on top of you, bodies to bodies and skin to skin, listening to his whispers. You don’t have to take a look at his cock, it felt big while he was lining it in your entrance. He kissed you while he pushes in slowly, but it was hurting so bad and so good at the same time that you moaned a little too loud making Jungwoo cover your mouth and start moving slowly. “Are you feeling this-“ he groaned near your ear, hand slipping back down to your breast and feed his lust. You were overwhelmed by every feeling Jungwoo is giving you that your long nails scratch his perfect skin at the back. And even though everything felt great already, it’s obvious that he is holding back. 

“Don’t hold back” you said, kissing him and urging him to do whatever he wants. And when he finally let go, every thrust he gave you is piercing hard that your body is being dragged on the warm grass. He watches you take everything he gives, sucks your right nipple while watching your face contort and your lips part, listening to every sound you make. But Jungwoo was still not satisfied, he pins your legs on the ground while it’s perfectly spread then he fucks you at a quick pace. Quick but hard. That godlike strength is not made for a human, now you understand. He soon cums inside you while kissing your neck deliciously, whimpering and shivering as he enjoys his orgasm. 

“I can’t get enough of you” and because of that, he pulls out, watched his cum drip from your entrance, and glides his soft cock on your slit. The feeling was too much even if his cock is not inside you, but Jungwoo knew that he can make you cum by playing with your slit. And he was right, when he felt you tensed up, he spreads your legs once again and licked your folds in a very sinful way. His tongue glides up and down very fast, that you don’t have a choice but to try to push his head away from you until you finally came and became weak while Jungwoo is still torturing you with his tongue. 

“I can’t take it anymore-“ you said, bitting your lips and breathing heavily. Thankfully, the man in between your legs stopped. And spread kisses on your sensitive body until his lips are near yours. 

“I got carried away” he smiles. “I promise, I will make love to you in my bed. Tomorrow?” he kisses your swollen nipples while he waits for your answer. Tomorrow sounds great you thought, but you were so tired that you only answered him with a nod. 

When it’s finally time to go home, you and Jungwoo watch the sky turn dark blue as you two walk hand in hand on your way back to the village. Little did you know that the perfect day will be ruined in the most unexpected way. You can’t move when you saw it heading towards you two, you didn’t want to let go of his hand but he was brave as expected and bolted to danger. No one knew that a deadly cyclops has been lurking outside the village of Mt. Olympus. He told you to run and call for the soldiers and of course, you did. You left him. 

As you call for help with great panic, the guards did not believe you because you were just a slave. You feel bad and hopeless. You feel like you’re wasting time so came back for Jungwoo with a big rock in your hand, hoping that you could strike the cyclops with it. But it’s too late. You found him on the ground, gravely injured and almost lifeless. “Stay with me!” you shake him and tried so hard now to let him close his eyes as you scream at the top of your lungs, “HELP!”

Nothing. You screamed again, a little desperately than before and then someone appeared. Leaning on the side of the true calmly as if he likes what he’s seeing. You begged him to help you but instead, he smiled, came close to you, and held your chin oh so tightly. His hands were big and hot on your skin as if he was fresh from the underworld. 

“Lucas your cousin needs help please” you begged again. 

“He’s dead. Two minutes ago. He is now trapped in the river of souls”

“You are the prince of the underworld, I’m sure you can do something” you sob. He released your chin and smirked in front of you. 

“Of course I can do anything. But the question is, what can you do to bring Jungwoo back to life?” You don’t know what to answer, you don’t know what you can offer. As a slave, you don’t have anything. 

“I don’t have anything to offer” you looked at Jungwoo’s cold body and hold his hand. Lucas is now dying of jealousy. He did not plot Jungwoo’s life to feel defeated. No. 

“Offer your soul and loyalty and I’ll bring him back. Pledge your loyalty to me, and love me. When I’m satisfied, I’ll make sure to keep my word” 

It was an offer you can’t refuse but also an offer that meant betraying Jungwoo. But he has to live. So without further thinking, you agreed to Lucas and gave your soul to him. He brought Jungwoo’s dead body in the underworld, with you on his side. The deal is to show your loyalty to him and to try to love him until he’s convinced and satisfied. And so you did. You became loyal to the prince of the underworld, stayed with him day and night, accept his gifts and his admiration. Time moves slowly in the underworld so no one is suspecting about Jungwoo’s disappearance. Soon, you earned Lucas’ trust and kept his word. He brought Jungwoo to life and trapped you in the underworld.  

When Jungwoo came back to life, he can’t remember what happened after having sex with you that day. Your disappearance was a mystery to him and your family. He looked everywhere for you, searched high and low but still, nothing. 

“Why are always gloomy my child? It’s banquet everyone should be happy, please wear even a fake smile before you meet your bride” his mother whispers beside him. As prince Jungwoo fakes his smile to all the guests and made small talk to a few people, his world stopped when he saw you again. After many years. Although he is not sure if it is really you, because his cousin’s hand is on top of your waist and you were smiling as he has never seen before. You changed, you don’t look like the girl he loved and adored. 

You tried so hard to avoid Jungwoo and seclude yourself. You missed the view of Mt. Olympus in the afternoon. You let out a sigh and drank your wine, thinking more of how can you escape Lucas. Even if you die, or kill yourself, he still wins. And that thought alone makes you mad to the core. “Y/n? Is this really you?” you turned your back slowly and face the man you love.

“So that’s why you’ve been gone missing? You finally showed your true colors and betrayed me. Cheated with my own cousin?” he was angry but you didn’t care. Everything he said hurt you. 

“I did it for you. Please don’t say those harsh words to me. Jungwoo it’s still me, please save me from your cousin-“ 

“That’s prince Jungwoo for you, slave! I don’t- I can’t believe I loved someone like you. You made a fool out of me” he said tears in his eyes like his own words hurt him too. Hearing him call you a slave was like a dagger to your heart. After everything you did just to prove him, you love him. 

“My love, what are you doing outside?” Jungwoo’s bride came to fetch him, she was a goddess and they looked perfect together. You turned your back to dry your tears and wish to not see Jungwoo anymore especially in the arms of another. ‘My love’, you used to call him that and it was for the two of you only, but now those words are meaningless. 

You were a daughter of a slave. 

He was a prince and a son of a god. 

What did you expect to happen?

↩︎prev next ▶︎

[syubub]

BTS SOULMATES WORST HABIT/ QUALITY

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes and only my interpretation of the cards. Do not take it as fact~

Anon, I love this very much!! Thank you for requesting it!

Seokjin

I got: 7 of wands rev., Take a fucking trip ( Go see some shit. Do some new things. Talk to people cooler than you.), Stop obsessing ( You are not the centre of the fucking universe)

So. This person tends to get overwhelmed easily and can be a bit of a workaholic at times.

This is someone who gets so so so focused their failures and faults and stuff that they kinda become blinded by that

I pulled a clarity and got 9 of swords.

This really is someone who spirals in anxiety when things aren't going well and likely snaps at the people around them.

Its absolutely unintended but when they get overwhelmed they kinda detatch from the world and they can only see as far as their nose.

Likely gets so in their head that they forget things about other people and it can come off as being very self-centered, cold, bitchy ect.

Yoongi

Lol

A lot of cards came out.

We have: 2 of cups, Drop the fucking ego. (Vulnerability is hot as fuck.), Ask a fucking expert. (Don't rely on your friends or the Internet. Listen to a damn professional.), Stop fucking whining. (No one wants to listen to that shit. Complaining makes you weak. You have the strength to change your world-so do it.), You need a good fucking cry. (Get the ugly cry on. Let that shit go. Your soul will thank you.)

They tend to romanticize life to the point that they think that something will come and change their life for them

But that isn't how shit works

They have mad issues with getting vulnerable and admitting that they are struggling or that they aren't happy where they are.

Emotionally constipated lol

Definitely has a hard time letting other people in bc of trust issues

They don't really outwardly emote often so it all builds up.

They think that independence means you can't look for guidance and thats bad

Very much ignoring the work they have to do to get to where they want to be but still pretending like they are getting closer to it

Ugh

They have a lot of shit to work out in the emotions department

They also seem to just have a general lack of grounding.

Hoseok

Oki

I got: 10 of swords rev., the tower, Stop talking. (Shut your mouth and listen.) Winning. (You got a good thing going. Don't ruin that shit.)

This is someone who can't keep their foot out their fucking mouth.

Dear god.

Its all good intentions but they say way more than they need too and it can ruin things for them.

They also can be too open.

They also resist change too much.

They fear self change.

They couldn't give a shit about external change but breaking old habits and old patterns is something they just don't like to do

So as a result they don't ever challenge their views internally.

This can leave them with a shaky foundation (putting off that tower moment) of old views and outdated information.

This can make them pretty damn judgmental at times.

They just need to let the tower moment happen and reasses all of their beliefs to figure out what they truly stand for and who they are, not just what has been forced in them (societal, parental. Even friends)

Also likely gullible

EMBRACE INNER CHANGE

Jesus, you're gonna give me a fuckin migraine

Its frustrating because THEY KNOW WHAT THEY HAVE TO DO BUT THEY JUST DON'T WANT TO

I feel bad for your guides, hobi's soulmate.

JUST DO IT

Namjoon

...

I got: Hanged man rev., 2 of swords, What the hell are you waiting for? Get that shit done. (If you were waiting for a sign-well, here it ucking is.), Don't believe every shitty thought you have. (Thoughts can be lying, sneaky bastards)

This is a procrastinator.

They tend to avoid things when they are faced with things that are unpleasant or even really good.

They are frustratingly doing nothing.

Big big big avoider.

STOP DOING THAT

Doesn't really want to do better.

They are content where they are for the simple reason that they don't want to experience discomfort by actively going after what they truly want in life

THIS DOESNT HELP ANYONE

They are also VERY passive when they are procrastinating

Jimin

Bring it.

We have: The magician, You are loved. (You are here for a reason. Don't fuck it up.), Have you eaten? (Your acting like a big ass baby. You need food in your belly. Either fucking taco.)

Well okay then.

I think this ties into jimins soulmate reading so I won't go too indepth about that part. You can read his soulmate reading here (x)

BUT

The thing that makes this their worst quality/ worst habit is because they have every tool and all of the want to help their situation but just don't?

And specifically another thing is that no matter how much someone tells this person that they love them, that they are important and that they matter, this person DOESN'T BELIEVE IT. The actively try to convince themselves otherwise.

Actively

On purpose

Because they don't know what else is a personality trait.

Again go read jimins soulmate read.

It's not that anyone blames them for this or anything but they actively reject help at times and get pissy about their situation.

You know what you need to do to fix your shit. Do it. Don't use it as your fucking personality.

You are more than that.

Dear god.

Theres a lot to say here.

Whatever situation it is, they are so stubborn and determined to do shit on their own and they have every resource but they are scared to lose a defining trait.

Ugh

I have a lot I want to say about this but I'll leave it here.

Taehyung

Oki oki

10 of wands, 2 of cups, you're giving too many fucks. (Give zero) and figure shit out on your own.

So this is someone how tends to overwork themselves.

They don't really know when to quit? They seem to be very determined but to their own detriment at times.

They also tend to carry the burden in any social relationship. People tend to use them?

They go along with it because they have a lot to offer and a lot to give and don't always have the boundaries to keep people from taking advantage of them.

They honestly just give too many fucks.

They value human connection so much that they will let themselves be a fucking doormat.

They feel very isolated even though they aren't (when I do the second soulmate read I think I'll have some more about this then)

Jungkook

Oki

We have: the tower, 7 of swords, eat your fucking vegetables. (Eat some shit made by mother nature), dont talk to anyone. Don't look at anyone. (You need some fucking time alone. And you know why)

First thing. I heard, "The diet of a child" and then "gamer girl" umm.

I have 2 things.

1. They take bad care of themselves when they go through a rough patch and the trend sneak away from everything (probably lie to get out of whatever obligations or do some sneaky shit) and eat fucking lunchables and kids cuisine microwave dinners with energy drinks exclusively

2. They tend to be ridiculously picky irl. Or just can't cook for shit so they only eat coffee pot Ramen.

Pull yourself together.

Their worst habit is withdrawing from everything when things get rough.

They don't take care of themselves and they drink Monster energy drinks like a scene kid from 2010.

That's gross.

Pls stop

[pink-imagines]

warm smile

request: i noticed that you don't have a lot of sero stuff on your masterlist! so maybe, if you would so kindly, write a little drabble about sero kind of teasing the reader about their height as a way of flirting? i've noticed a lot of people do that and i feel like he would too! and then kind of ending it with reader admitting she's insecure about it and him saying it's cute?? thank you!

a/n: this is kinda short bc i ran out of inspiration but i hope this is okay!

warnings: crying, low self confidence and stuff

masterlist

requesting rules

You’ve spent most of your life as the “designated short friend”, as you’ve always been the shortest in your friend group. Not even when you got into UA, an accomplishment in itself, did your title change. Did you have a Napoleon complex - meaning that you were so insecure about your height that it fueled your anger? No most likely not. Did your height affect your insecurities? Yes definitely, but you’d never show it. Every time someone would tease you about it you’d take it for what it was, a joke, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing for you. How could you be a hero if most children were taller than you? Quirk or not, how could you save anyone? The fake confidence you wore proudly when you started at UA was starting to fade as your relationships with the other students grew. You wanted to tell them about your doubts but you felt like no one would listen. Being short isn’t really something to be sad about, at least that’s what most people had told you. You were “fun-sized” and “cute”, but you weren’t independant - which is what you wanted. 

“Good morning, shortie!”, Hanta wore a grin as he approached you in the kitchen dorm, preparing himself some breakfast. “How’s the weather up there this morning?”, you asked and took a sip of your coffee. He only let out a chuckle as he kept making his food. You wondered if he ever got ashamed of his height. Hanta was of pretty average height, probably around 175cm, and how you wished you could be like that. He was one of the few that kept teasing you about your height, of course he always kept it light hearted and never meant anything bad. Hanta was always like that, trying to get you to smile - and while he might tease you to do so he never wanted to see you hurt. Maybe that’s why you had taken a liking to him - not that you’d ever tell him that. “Did you sleep alright?”, Hanta asked out of the blue. “Just fine. How about you?”, you smiled behind your cup. “Like usual, slept like a rock.”, he looked over at you with a smile, “You look so tiny when you sit like that.” He was pointing out the fact that you were sitting on the counter and your cheeks immediately flushed. You might have thought that the height increase you’d get from sitting up there would make you look taller... but then you probably shouldn’t be dangling your feet like you were. “You know one of those salt shakers that’s shaped like a person?”, he laughed. “Oh, stop it!”, you hit his shoulder lightly and stared down into your cup. “Good morning!”, Momo said as she walked into the kitchen. “What are we laughing about?”, Kirishima followed her shortly after. Hanta told him about you looking like a tiny salt shaker while you simply stared down into your empty mug. Kirishima laughed like he always did and then moved onto making a protein shake. Hanta looked over at you again with a sweet smile, making butterflies swarm in your stomach. Momo snickered and you gave her a sour look when she motioned that your face was red. Your look only made her giggle more. Some people knew of your crush on him, though you had made them promise not to tell him. 

Throughout the day Hanta stuck to your side, which made the day just a bit better. It was such a cheesy thing to say but his precense around you made you feel warm and nice. Well, your day was nice until you saw Neito Monoma walking towards you in the hallway. You were having a conversation with Hanta about the homework you had just gotten in your english class when he walked past. “Every time I see you’re still here I get surprised.”, he had stopped in front of you, “I mean how’s it possible that someone of your... stature... could be a hero?” “Can you please leave me alone? I’ve never done anything to you.”, you sighed. “I’m starting to think that’s because you can’t reach me.”, he laughed, “Maybe you should try stilts.” “Leave her alone, Monoma.”, Itzuka Kendo said and started to drag the boy away, “Sorry about that, Y/L/N. He’s really just jealous!” You nodded at her and watched her take Monoma away, scolding him as she walked. Hanta put a hand on your shoulder, making you look over at him. “Don’t bother with him, okay?”, he said softly. “Yeah, I don’t-”, you choked on your words as you felt tears starting to form in your eyes, “Sorry, I have to go...” Before Hanta could say another word you ran over to the nearest bathroom. No way you’d let him see you cry! You weren’t weak like Monoma had said! As soon as you entered the bathroom you burst into tears and held yourself up by leaning on the sink. Luckily, no one else was in there since classes were just about to start. 

For a while you silently sobbed and let it slowly fade into whimpers, drying away your tears with the napkins you were supposed to use after you’d wash your hands. Once you were feeling a bit better you washed your face and tried to think of an excuse for when you got late to the lesson. Outside the bathroom door you saw Hanta leaning against the wall. You immediately looked down and tried to cover your face. “Why are you still here?”, you hated the way your voice sounded so broken. “Here.”, he walked up to you and handed you your favorite candy. “How did you-” “I listen.”, he shrugged, “... I told Aizawa that you went to the nurse’s office and that I’d be going with you, so you don’t have to worry about class.” “Thanks... what did you tell him? I just want to make sure that I don’t say something else later.” “I told him you had puked.” “Hanta!”, you looked up at him with bewildered eyes. “What? It was the first thing I could think of!”, he held his hands up in the air and wore a grin on his face, “Besides, it’s better than saying you were crying in the bathroom.” “I guess you’re right...”, you let out a chuckle. “... thanks.” “No problem... do you wanna talk about it?”, he asked and you nodded, “C’mon let’s go to the dorms before anyone sees us.”

The two of you walked in silence, there wasn’t much to say. Hanta had grabbed your hand and was leading you to the dorms, the only thing you could focus on was trying to control your heartbeat - which was beating out of your chest at the moment. When you arrived there he sat you down on the livingroom couch and then sat down next to you. “What’s up? Has he been bothering you for a long time?”, he asked softly. “Well... yeah, kind of.”, you said and tried your hardest to keep the tears from coming again, “I know he’s nothing to worry about but when someone hits you at your weakest points it’s hard to ignore it.” “You’re insecure about your height?”, Hanta raised his eyebrows slightly as you nodded, “Why?” “... like he said, how could I ever become a hero if I look this fragile? Who would depend on someone who can’t even reach the top shelf?”, you sighed and kept looking down at your hands. “I mean... you probably wouldn’t be the best hero to call if you needed to save a cat in a tree.”, he said and made you chuckle, “That doesn’t mean that you’re not powerful, though... and I kind of think that your height is... well...” You looked up at him, seeing his cheeks tinted pink as well as his ears. “Is what?”, you asked. “... well, it’s cute... and I know you said you wanted to be independent but it kind of makes me want to protect you in a way.”, now it was his turn to avoid your eyes, “So, while I don’t think you’re weak, I’d be there for you in all the ways you need help... like reaching the top shelf.” When you didn’t answer for a while he looked over at you and, unbeknownst to you, you had started tearing up. “Oh no! I’m sorry, that’s probably not what you wanted to hear right now!”, he said and apologiesed prefusely. “Huh?”, you wiped away your tears, “No, no, no... it’s just that no one’s ever treated that as seriously as you did... they usually just say that I’m ‘funsized’ and move on... so, thank you.” “Really?”, he huffed and was about to say something else when you realized. “So you think I’m cute?”, you smiled widely at his flustered expression. “I mean...”, he laughed nervously, “... yeah. Is that bad?” “No not really... I think you’re cute too.”, you smiled. The two of you looked at each other for a while with warm smiles and flustered faces, the tension was so thick that you could slice it with a knife. You noticed that he moved a bit closer, and so did you. He reached out to put his hand on top of yours - but you were suddenly interrupted by someone coming in through the doors. “Hey! Stay away from her she puked! You can’t be sick tomorrow we’re supposed to have our presentation!”, Denki yelled at Hanta. You immediately sat on the opposite end of the couch from him, moving as far away as possible and hid your red face in your hands. “Why are you still up Y/N? You should be resting!”, Momo said as she came in behind Denki, “Here, let me help you to your dorm.” As you were led away by Momo you looked back at Hanta, whom was getting scolded by Denki for being too close to you. He looked over at you with a soft smile and waved, as if he wasn’t about to get beat up by his classmate and as if it wasn’t your fault. You waved back before tearing your eyes away from him and walking up the stairs to the dorms. Things were about to change.

-

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac |

[mythiccheroacademia]

Okay bcuz this manga has me fucked all the way up,I need me some happy headcanons with Shigi and Dabi,like how would they be if they had a childhood sweetheart s/o that stayed with them ever since they knew each other?Knew each other better than anyone kinda deal?

A/N: The way this manga is fucking with my emotions don’t sit right in my spirit. I hope these headcanons add a little fluff to your life. Sorry it’s not all the way fluffy. I had to stick to character. But, they're as fluffy as a homicidal maniacs can be🥺     

Warnings: implied sexual activity, toxic relationship dynamics, death?, idk man

Tomura Shigaraki:

if there was one thing shigiraki’s enemies saw redeemable in him, it was his care for his friends

yes, he had a hard time trusting people (who can blame him), he wasn’t patient, he threw temper tantrums at his big age, and he barely showered

but he cared about his friends bc the only genuine love he felt, besides his sister, was from his friendship with you

before his quirk manifested, he and you would play with heroes all the time!

even when his dad would yell at him and give you dirty looks, you were still his friend

he never really forgot about you after his disappearance

your love and presence would always be in his heart

he was just busy dealing with, y’know, psychological trauma and world destruction

then, one day, you both saw each other when he was doing his daily walks and took time to catch up

you meet up all the time, and in those moments, you start to fall for one another

he was frustrated that he started becoming self-conscious about his skin, but you never failed to tell him how he still reminded you of the cute, shy, boy back in the day

then you’d recoil in embarrassment and tell him to forget you said that

it was annoying, but you actually made him blush

wears half gloves so he can touch your hand

he even stole a phone so he could text you

he doesn’t feel the need to wear the hands with you

at first, shigaraki kept you away from the LoV bc he didn’t know if he could trust you

and he didn’t want you a part of the violence, but he eventually couldn’t hide it when you started questioning him about his whereabouts—and it was so hard to lie to you

not when you still looked at him like he looked at you—like you were the world

little by little shigaraki starts to reveal his history, his thoughts, ideologies, and plans to you

at first, you’re horrified, and you immediately try to convince him to stop his plans

it ends up in a fight and he walks away before he does something he regrets

he laughs at the pain coursing through his chest bc why would you agree with him? he was a fool for thinking you’d join him. how could you? you were miss perfect

doesn’t cry but is noticeably angrier

heartbreak is a bitch

but then he gets a text from you to meet him at your apartment

it’s cryptic and so fucking dramatic but he shows up only bc he wants to set you straight

he’s surprised to feel you connect foreheads, just like you two did when he got nervous as a child, and tell him

“i don’t agree with your methods, but i’ll follow you if it’s to keep you safe. i lost you once and i refuse to lose you again”

in a moment of weakness, shigaraki kisses you

and the deal is sealed

it’s true he wants to destroy everything

and it’s true he doesnt want to be around after he does

but, at least he’ll enjoy the time he has with you

you mask your identity to everyone but shigaraki, only showing up to save him

throughout your time, you watch him grow, mature, and truly fit into the role of a leader when he becomes the head of the Paranormal Liberation Front

finally keeps up with his hygiene lmao

you spend countless nights talking, kissing, and other not kid-friendly things

you two knew everything about the other

you start to see his POV as you observe the poor actions of heroes and the civilians

soon, you’re always by his side—there’s never a time he’s somewhere and you’re not and vice versa

people catch on that you’re not just some bodyguard

they start treating you like they would shigaraki based on your power and their leader’s own demand for them to

many try to ask about your identity and shigaraki is quick to shut that shit down

you even dutifully watch him as the old doctor takes him through his torturous transformation

and when the heroes come to capture him, you’re in the shadows waiting…

Dabi:

he’s a Todoroki

no, I don’t accept criticism

anyway

when he was young, you and the older todorokis would hang out together

you only knew each other bc you were rich and your parents were internationally recognized pro-heroes

you were dragged to so many boring hero events

you’d talk so much shit about how two-faced heroes were

that’s how all four of you bonded

there were times touya would disappear and you’d be confused

fuyumi and natsuo said he was “training”

you didn’t really think much of it so you went on with life

every time he came back, he was covered in bandages

after the fifth time, you ask him about it and he just breaks down and tells you everything

he tells you all about endeavor’s harsh training, how much he thought of him as a failure, and about how he was literally burning from the inside out

you were young and could barely process this

your life was perfect, how could you ever relate?

however, you promised to always be by his side

you wouldn’t let him feel alone

even after a day of abuse, touya would look forward to texting you

you’d talk about movies, comics, who was the best hero, who would win the world cup this year, etc.

would sneak into your house to play video games

it’s ended up in cuddling more often than he’s willing to admit

it wasn’t long before you two knew everything about one another

even about the dark thoughts in his head

it worried you, but again, you didn’t think much of it

how could you know it lead him to faking his own death?

something you didn’t know he had done until he appeared at your door years later

who the hell was this and why did he look like an overcooked omelet?

you didn’t even believe it was him until he told you he was right about Barcelona winning the world cup in 2009

you spent half the day crying and the other cussing him out for letting everyone think he was dead

goes, “lol, yeah that was wild. help me dye my hair?”

what an asshole

your relationship is weird and toxic

you guys are best friends teetering on lovers but it’s confusing bc dabi is cryptic is hell

he confessed that he liked you but tells you that he’s too dangerous for you

like this was some Twilight fanfic

like, okay Edward Cullen

but he’s serious bby, my mans is out here committing homicide

not good

he’ll text you from time to time and randomly shows up at your apartment like he owns the place

you’ll talk, have sex, and talk some more

eventually straight up tells you about his end goal and you’re like

????

you: touya, no???

him: dabi, yes

speaking of which, makes you call him dabi when he’s not in your guts

despite him being a dick, he’s quite charming when he wants to be

takes you to the best spot to see the city lights

or the stars on the beach

always tells you not to worry about him and that he has everything under control

very very protective

won’t like if you're involved with anything hero or villain-like

if you’re a civilian, ensures that you stay that way bc he’ll be damned if you get involved with what’s happening

stalks you (for “safety purposes”)

you two always fight when you catch him snooping around

but has the audacity to ghost you and come back like nothing happened

it’s so toxic

hates knowing that you cry when he comes back battered and burning from fights but he’s got a mission, srry bby

someone’s gotta take out endeavor

being close to him is not for the faint of heart, but you have to take it or leave it bc he’s set on his life’s purpose

the night before the war takes place, he’s suspiciously touchy

makes you promise that no matter what happens, you’ll find him if society starts to crumble

you're like…what the hell, dabi? stop speaking in riddles. just say you wanna marry me and go

but honey, he’s 100% serious and you’ll find out soon enough

[4stars-uswnt]

This is the End [Tobin Heath x Reader]

requested by anon: honestly anything tobin or christen would be great (angst!!?)

A/N: i wrote this at like midnight bc that’s just when inspiration hit. also this was my first time writing angst so lemme know how it is

warnings: angst, hints at/mention of cheating

sequel

You groan, as you hang up the phone, tossing it across your bed. You had just gotten off the phone with your girlfriend of one year, Tobin Heath. Usually, you loved talking to your girlfriend, as you’d share the events of your days with each other. But lately, it seemed like all you two were doing was fighting and bickering over the smallest of things. The latest topic of discussion was Tobin’s best friend, Christen Press.

—————

Although you trusted your girlfriend, you couldn’t help feel insecure about and jealous of their relationship. It certainly didn’t help that you were currently stuck quarantining in Seattle for training with the Reign, and that Christen was currently living with Tobin in Portland.

When you found out the curly haired forward would be staying with your girlfriend, you were livid, starting one of your many fights.

“What do you mean she’s gonna be living with you?!” You yell, exasperatedly.

“(Y/N/N), it’s not like she can go anywhere. The whole country is basically shut down, and they cancelled all the flights.” Tobin tries to calm you.

“Well, why was she even visiting you?” The jealousy in your voice was now evident.

“She was dropping off some stuff for re-inc and the new launch.” She explains.

“How long do you think she’ll be staying?” You sigh.

“I’m sure it won’t be for that long, babe. I promise she won’t stay any longer than she has to.” She tries to reassure you, knowing you weren’t the most comfortable with the situation.

You rolled your eyes, thinking back to that conversation. ‘Not that long’ had turned into almost four months.

You had always been a little weary of Tobin and Christen’s relationship, or ‘preath’ as the fandom had coined them. It was obvious to any person that Christen had heart-eyes for the other woman, and that Tobin absolutely adored the speedy forward, whether that be as more than a friend, you didn’t know.

While you were confident in your relationship, there was always a small part of you that couldn’t help but second guess yourself and question if those ‘preath’ shippers had a point. Your current situation only increased your deprecating thoughts.

—————

Reaching for your phone again, you open the Twitter app, hoping to take your mind off the fight you had just had with your girlfriend. After going through a couple of posts, you passed one from a few minutes ago, mentioning both Tobin and Christen. Scrolling back up, you scanned the tweet. Your eyes widen, and you drop your phone.

“Hearing Tobin Heath and Christen Press are close to signing deals to play with Manchester United.”

Your heart stopped. Though there was more to the post, you didn’t bother continuing, as you had all the information you needed.

Normally, you would wait a couple of hours after an argument to call your girlfriend back, giving you both some time to cool off, but after seeing what you just saw, you furiously FaceTimed her.

After a couple of rings, you hear her voice.

“Hi.” You can hear the hesitancy in your girlfriend’s voice.

“Hey. Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, and I trust you, I do, and I’m sorry I get insecure sometimes.” You truly did mean your apology, but at the same time, you just wanted to ask Tobin about the rumors floating around.

“I’m sorry, too, (Y/N/N). I shouldn’t have yelled either, and I know you trust me. This whole situation just sucks, doesn’t it?”

You huff out a ‘yes’, and Tobin chuckles a little.

“So, we good?” You sheepishly ask.

Tobin practically smiles through the phone. “Yeah, we’re good.”

The two of you make small talk for a while, discussing the weather and what you have planned for the rest of the evening, until you decide you can’t wait any longer to hint at the tweet that’s been plaguing your mind.

“Anyways, when do the Thorns start training again?”

“Ummm. I dunno. In like the next week or so.” Tobin says it so nonchalantly that you can’t tell if she’s purposely avoiding the topic or she’s just chill about it, like everything else in her life.

“Well, have you been taking with Mark?” You try again, hoping she’ll tell you about the Man United loan.

“Yeah, a little.” She hums. “Why? When do you start? You meet your new coach yet?”

You let out a small sigh of defeat, before answering her and continuing the conversation. Not receiving any information from your girlfriend, you decide to drive down to Portland the next morning, not only to surprise Tobin, but hopefully to get some answers.    

—————

After about three hours of driving, and a stop for coffee, you reach the doorstep of Tobin’s apartment at around noon. Knocking on the door, you hear Christen’s voice.

“Oh! That must be our Sweetgreen order.”

You roll your eyes. Of course they would order Sweetgreen for lunch.

The door opens, and you stumble back at the sight in front of you. There, in the door frame stands Christen, wearing only one of Tobin’s oversized Jordan t-shirts. The two of you are just staring at each other, her with a look of guilt and shame written across her face, and you, you’re trying to conceal the pain and heartbreak you are currently feeling.

As if to confirm it all, you hear Tobin’s voice approaching from within the apartment.

“Chris! What’s the hold up? Who’s at the door?” Your girlfriend comes up behind Christen, dressed only in a sports bra and a pair of sweat paints. Her eyes widen upon seeing you standing outside her apartment.  

By now, tears are streaming down your face, as you’ve put the pieces together.

You take off running, down the hallway and out of the building, trying to go anywhere, as far away from your girlfri—— ex-girlfriend as possible.

You hear Tobin chasing after you. “Wait! (Y/N)! Let me explain.”

Catching up to you, she grabs your wrist. You turn around, pulling yourself out of her grasp.

“What?! What could you possibly say?” Your voice cracks. Tobin looks down at her feet, obviously ashamed.

“Babe—" She tries.

“NO!” You hold up your hand. “You do not get to call me that.” You sob.

“I’m sorry.” Tears begin to pool in her eyes.

You shut your eyes, willing your own tears away. “I thought you’d at least have the decency to break up with me before jumping into bed with someone else!” You yell frustratedly, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “I know we’ve been going through a rough patch recently, but I thought we’d be able to work it out. I thought we were worth fighting for. I thought I was worth fighting for.” You whisper the last part, sounding defeated.

Tobin’s heart breaks at the sound of your words. Running her hands through her hair, she inwardly curses, frustrated with herself. Falling in love with two women was never easy, especially when it was with (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Christen Press, two of the purest people on the planet.

“I never meant for this to happen, (Y/N).” Tobin sighs.

You scoff under your breath at the woman’s cliché and weak defense.

“How long? How long has this been going on?” You hold your breath, not really wanting to hear the answer, knowing it’ll only shatter your heart even more.

“I knew I started to have feelings for her after last year’s SheBelieves Cup. But we only started…ya know… about two months ago.” She reveals.

You feel like you’re gonna throw up. You want to cry, scream, laugh, yell, all at the same time. Instead, you distance yourself from the other woman, asking her one final question.

“So I guess it’s true?”

Tobin continues to blankly stare at you.

“You’re gonna move to England with her? Play for Manchester United?”

She gives you a look, and you can’t tell if it’s one of sympathy or of guilt, and honestly, at this point, you don’t even care.  

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” She mutters.

“Well,” You clear your throat, pushing down the impending breakdown. “This is it then. This is the end.”

Tobin nods, admitting defeat. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

A new wave of tears gather in your eyes, realizing she won’t even fight for your relationship, or fight for you.

“Goodbye, Tobin.” You turn around and rush back to your car, not giving her the chance to respond.

Shutting the door, you rest your forehead against the steering wheel and let out a sob, now letting the tears fall freely. After a couple of minutes of bawling, you go to drive away, but as you’re leaving, you see Tobin still standing outside the building, staring at you with tear tracks down her cheeks.

Ignoring your broken heart, you glance at the woman one final time and press your foot on the gas, leaving her and your relationship behind.

This truly was the end.

[thotantics]

✗ warnings — description of sex, do not read if you’re underage, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), brief mention of overstimulation, slight dirty talk

✎ words —   3.5k

[A/N] wooooow i miss him so much it actually physically hurt to write this :((( like my heart aches :(( i hope this turned out ok for everyone bc i really really REALLY loved writing this im sad lmao. unedited bc im garbage

He looks more handsome every time you see him, you think. When you’re sitting across from one another, it’s striking and altogether distracting just how good looking he is. Kyungsoo was complimenting the way you prepared the steak, his brows knitting as he makes an appreciative hum at the back of his throat. Sitting there in a plain white tee, his hair just long enough that it’s starting to lay flat on his head, making a sound that’s near-sexual as he tastes the meal you just made together...he’s never looked more attractive to you than he does right this instant. So attractive and so distracting, that you find yourself speaking without fully thinking over what you’re about to say before it comes out, long before you ever touch your utensils.

“I could spend the rest of my life like this.”

A millisecond after the words leave your tongue you know you fucked up. Why in the world did you say that?! The implication of that statement alone is so embarrassing that you feel the heat of shame rise to your face as Kyungsoo, sipping from a bottle of water, chokes just a little bit in surprise, eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you from across the table incredulously.

“What did you say?”

You shrink back in your seat, eyes darting nervously around the room as your brain entirely malfunctions, attempting to think of a reason for that statement that didn’t end up with you confessing your feelings to your friend. It takes ages and your face, you know, is beat red by now. Kyungsoo is blinking at you, brows raised, waiting for an explanation and a heavy sigh is the only response you can manage to get out. 

It’s embarrassing how much you had meant what you said, and that’s why you feel so ashamed as he just stares across the table at you, patiently as ever. You really could spend the rest of your life like this; in the kitchen making dinner together, laughing, listening to music...just being with him, is the main thing, though. Doing literally anything as long as you could spend the rest of your life like this, enjoying Kyungsoo’s company. 

You can feel your cheeks burning as you continue to avoid his stare, looking at the table, the ground, your untouched food, the wall, literally anywhere except for the man in front of you. The implication in your words was out there, now, though you’ve felt this way about Kyungsoo for pretty much the whole of your friendship. How could you not have developed feelings for him? He was a genuine and kind friend who always was willing to offer you his time, at the very least. He was funny and laid back, he didn’t have any expectations of your time together and his gesture of friendship had been very welcome.

Plus the fact that Kyungsoo was quite possibly the hottest guy you had ever laid eyes on... it was inevitable that you would grow to have these deep feelings for him.

Across from you, Kyungsoo cracks a short smile of disbelief, coupled with a breathy sort of chuckle before he clears his throat, steadies his expression, and says, “No, really. Do you mean that?”

You don’t expect that tone in his voice. The tenderness, the hope, his voice low as if this conversation had suddenly turned into a shared secret between the two of you. Nobody else was home, your roommate was out for the weekend, and Kyungsoo, upon discovering you were alone and bored, had invited himself over for dinner and the two of you had gone grocery shopping together earlier in the day.

The more you stare at him across the table, leaning into it a bit with both his hands gripping the side as he waits for your reply, the more you know there’s no way to deny what you had just said to him. So you give him a small nod in response.

He smiles wide, holds it back, and the tension visibly leaves his shoulders as he stops clutching the table, relaxing back into his seat with a sigh. “Really?” You nod again and this time, it’s Kyungsoo that avoids your eye contact shyly. He smiles at the table between you, shaking his head a bit in disbelief before he takes a short breath and stands.

You aren’t expecting it when he leans over the table towards you, or when he gently cups your chin and lifts your head so that his lips can gently meet your own. It’s over so quickly and he’s sitting back down before you can even register in your brain to blink, looking across the table at your shocked, frozen expression.

“I can arrange that.” Kyungsoo states. You blink in confusion for a moment before it clicks that he’s responding to the words you originally blurted out, about wanting to spend the rest of your life like this. Warmth blooms in your chest, spreading out from the center of your being to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

The tension in the room is so thick from the sudden shift in your moods from calm to embarrassed and now...whatever this is. Kyungsoo locks eyes with you again and you find yourself smiling, biting at your lower lip because he’s looking at you just gave him his Christmas and birthday presents early this year.

He glances back at his plate and uses his chopsticks to poke around at his food like he’s looking for the right bite, but he laughs and drops them again with a quick clatter. “You know, I uh...suddenly can’t focus.” He tells you, and when he makes eye contact with you he admits, “All I can think about is how badly I wanna kiss you again.”

You straighten in your seat, staring across the table defiantly at him. “Ok.”

He smiles a little, moving as if to stand out of his seat again but he hesitates, “Yeah?”

You laugh a little, nodding your head. “Yeah.”

Kyungsoo stands and then kneels by your chair in the floor, eyes unwavering on your expression as he leans in closer. Growing impatient, you wrap an arm around him, a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck and draw him into your lips. It’s the sort of kiss you had always imagined sharing with him; soft lips that sends butterflies flapping like mad in your gut, the kind of kiss that both of you have to pause from not only to catch a breath but to smile at one another before you dive right back in, hungry for more. Kyungsoo keeps a grip on your hair at the back of your head as he deepens the kiss, and you melt into him, nearly tumbling out of your chair but he manages to help you get steady in your seat again, both of you breathlessly chuckling.

You’re about to suggest moving things into your bedroom when he speaks first, “Should we um, finish our dinner?”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” You state, clutching his shoulders to prevent him from standing yet, because you can’t stand the thought of him pulling his body heat from you, not yet.

He smiles, it’s coy and charming and coupled with his teeth capturing his lower lip before he asks you, “What did you have in mind?”

“We can go somewhere with more room,” You offer, “Preferably, somewhere I can lay down? So I don’t fall again.”

“Because I make you weak in the knees?” He asks playfully but you’re dead serious when you nod in affirmation back at him. He falters, but only for a second before he finally matches the urgency that you feel and he stands, tugging your hand until you’re standing chest to chest with him.

He kisses you again, but it’s chaste and he cuts it way too short for your liking, then he steps back so you have room to escort him to your room, lacing his fingers with yours so that you can lead him by the hand. It’s a short walk, but it feels like miles because while he’s clutching your hand tightly, occasionally his chest brushes up against your back or your shoulder, but you can’t see him unless you turn around and you’re thankful when he speaks again so you can peer at him over your shoulder.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came over tonight, you know.” He says and your heart clenches, pulse racing. Does he regret it already? But he continues, “I had hoped...for a long time, actually, but I never wanted to pressure you.”

“There’s no pressure.” You tell him, pushing open your bedroom door and walking in backward so you can look into his eyes, “I’ve wanted this for a really long time.”

“God,” He sighs, stepping forward and eliminating the space between your bodies once more, “I have, too. From day one.” He admits, tilting your chin so he can press a short, sweet kiss to your lips.

He lingers only long enough to feel your tongue reach out to him before he pulls back with a smile, eyes dancing as he tucks your hair behind your ears, brushing it away from your shoulders as he speaks again, “I’ve always wondered how you looked like this.” He runs the pad of his thumb over your lips and you kiss it briefly, “You’re so sexy.” He whispers, then he asks, even quieter, “Do you want me, y/n?”

“Yes.” You breathe, “Please, Soo..”

He doesn’t wait any longer at that, crashing his mouth against yours in a fiery kiss that nearly knocks you right off your feet, your knees dangerously wobbly. He holds you by the face as he kisses you, walking you back until you feel the edge of the bed against the back of your knees.

You hold him, arms around his shoulders, fingers carding through his hair as he kisses the breath right from your lungs. It’s a stark contrast, the frantic way he’s kissing you and the slow, tender touch of his hands moving from your cheeks, brushing his knuckles down the sides of your breasts, your ribs, and finally settling on your hips. He crushes you briefly in an embrace that makes you feel small and precious, and you moan into his mouth, hands smoothing down to flatten on his chest where you can feel his heartbeat pounding in time with your own.

He grazes his thumbs under the bottom hem of your top, feeling for your skin and finding goosebumps spread in his wake. Smirking ever so slightly, he continues to draw little shapes up higher on your sides, lifting your shirt inch by inch, grazing your skin so gently. Mouthing frantically down your throat, licking and nipping at your over-sensitive skin, his hands feel like they’re running in slow-mo and in an attempt to clear the fogginess in your brain from the distinction, you grab his hands and move them to cup your breasts under your shirt and over your bra. 

He exhales sharply, smiling against your skin before he pulls back to admire the sight of your shirt bunched up and your breasts fitting into his palms, “Eager?” He smiles at you. 

You refrain from pouting, though you really want to, opting instead to stare defiantly back at him as you simply reply, “Yes.”

Kyungsoo inhales with an almost tremble, his smirk fading fast. “As much as I’ve thought about this,” he says, thumbs passing over your nipples through the material of your bra, “I always imagined it slow, and I would take my time and worship every inch of you if you ever let me get to that point. I didn’t anticipate you being like this.” You flush, biting at your lip, and Kyungsoo bows his head down and captures that same lip with his own teeth, moaning briefly before he mutters hot and thick against your mouth, “You’re so sexy, it drives me crazy.”

“Are you hard for me?” You ask him while he licks into your mouth, your teeth bumping when the question catches him off guard and you take the opportunity of shocked silence to ask, “Can I touch it?”

Panting, Kyungsoo pulls his hands from under your shirt and hurries to undo the strap of his belt, letting each half fall around your hands as you hurry to help him with the zipper of his jeans, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. 

Kyungsoo cradles the back of your head and makes you tilt back to look at him before he moves to kiss you, your hands now feeling blindly for his dick. Once you find the band of his boxers, he’s unmistakably hard in your grip, skin taut, and velvety as you attempt to stroke his shaft with the barrier of his boxers still in the way. 

He stops breathing for a few seconds, mouth open while you tongue at his plump lower lip, pumping his cock with shallow strokes of your soft hand. It’s when your thumb grazes over the tip of him, collecting a thick droplet of precum that he snaps out of it. Then he’s everywhere. One hand fists in your hair to keep your chin back and your mouth easy to access, the other hand grips the waistband of your pants, tugging twice, a silent request for permission that has you both looking like dummies for a second, hands fumbling, pushing clothes off and aside, panting, giggling when you make eye contact and then eventually, somehow, managing to make it to the bed.

You tumble side by side, fully nude on top of the duvet and there’s the briefest moment of awkwardness when you stop giggling and look each other over naked for the first time. He’s more muscular than you had anticipated him to be and apparently he likes your breasts, though you had felt insecure about them. Something like pride floods your veins when he leans over you, his chest meeting yours until you lay back flat under him, and his mouth moves to kiss a path down your neck until he meets your pert nipple with a brief kiss. 

“So beautiful..” He smiles up at you, waiting for you to give him any indication that he should stop, but you’re suddenly panting again, pupils blown out, lips parted waiting for him to continue, so he does. By now, Kyungsoo reasons that you wouldn’t have gotten naked for him if there was any doubt in your mind about continuing on with this, so there’s no need to be as cautious as he has been. So it’s with abandon that he tastes your breasts, biting, licking, sucking. You arch into him and the sweet sounds you make as he kisses his way down your body make his blood pump fiercely, turning his cock rock solid.

Your thighs are trembling when he spreads them to make room for himself to settle between them, and he sends you a quick glance to make sure you’re not uncomfortable. But you’ve wanted this so long, and the sight of him a breath away from your weeping pussy and staring up tenderly at your face is all too much to handle. 

“Do it,” You encourage him, lifting your hips up so your sex is right against his mouth and he responds immediately with a hungry swipe of his tongue and you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily, “Yes!” You whine as he follows you back to the mattress, one taste and he’s a goner. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t stop until you cum for him. He’s relentlessly claiming that first orgasm from you, ignoring the way your hips jerk and your thighs tremble, palms keeping you spread open and mouth working you over experimentally until he finds the right rhythm in the right spot that has you singing for him until you release against his face, bucking wildly and keening as you grip the bedsheets. 

He’s so good at feeling your body out and taking note of your responses, he manages to keep your orgasm prolonged by drawing away from your clit with a heavy, final suck and then pressing two fingers inside you deep, pumping in time with the clenching of your inner walls, his body flexing as he moves up to suckle your breasts as your orgasm goes on and on. 

You’re wailing for him, unable to believe he can make you feel like this without even using his cock and when you finally can’t take anymore, you slap at his shoulders and head, shoving his hand away from between your legs, thighs clenching shut tight. 

He meets your eye with a laugh, face messy with the remnants of your arousal, but as he sits back on his haunches to watch you regain control of your lungs and thundering pulse, you can’t help but notice he’s got an impressive erection jutting in your direction. 

Kyungsoo notices you noticing his erection and he tells you good-naturedly, “If you wanna stop, or take a break, that’s fine.”

“Can you get on top?” You ask him quietly, “My legs feel like jelly.”

He smiles brightly, moving to lay over you, body stretched out fully, and his hands brush your hair from your face tenderly while he peppers kisses over your chest, avoiding your sensitive nipples. He stays like that for some time, occasionally moving to kiss your lips languidly for a spell before he goes back to your neck or chest, giving you time to relax, hands rubbing your outer thighs as he helps you raise your legs back up. That first orgasm knocked you out and you need all the help you can get, but he’s incredibly chivalrous about it, flexing his biceps as he hooks your knees into the bend of each of his arms as he moves to sit low on his knees. 

“Put me in you.” He tells you under his breath, “When you’re ready.”

But you’re more than ready, hand shaking with anticipation as you wrap your fingers around his shift and guide the blunt head of his cock to your entrance. You rub him up and down, spreading the gush from your incredible orgasm around so it gathers on him perfectly when he begins to nudge his way inside of you, finally, for the first time. 

Your moans echo one another when he finally seats himself balls deep inside of you, and Kyungsoo bows his forehead to bump into your temple while you clench involuntarily around his shaft. “So wet,” He breathes, hips shifting minutely as he builds up a steady rhythm, slowly increasing his pace, “So fucking good.”

The slick sounds are borderline embarrassing, you’re so wet and he keeps snapping his hips hard at the end because he loves the way the audible slickness of your sex is making you blush. You’re rag-dolled, limbs limp and it takes all the last of your strength to just lay there and take his cock, but Kyungsoo is generous with his thrusts, bouncing you up the mattress gently with each downstroke and he angles his pelvis so your swollen clit is stimulated by the contact. 

Your moans are choked, high in pitch and your throat is raw but you can’t stop yourself, especially when he frees one arm, your leg hooking around the back of his thigh, holding him in close, and he brings his thumb between your bodies to roughly circle your clit.

“Soo!” You cry out, “Oh, god, oh, god, you’re-”

He grunts in response, watching your face contort in pleasure as he fucks into you just that little bit harder, hips stuttering as he nears his own end but it’s yours that he’s focused on. “Give it to me,” he murmurs down to you, panting and beginning to sweat above you as he races with you to the finish line, “Cum for me again, baby...let me have it.”

And you do, with one final grunt he slams into you, finishing you off even as he withdraws to spill his cum over your belly, replacing his cock with his fingers. He lets out a breathless, happy laugh as you cum together like this, your face flooding with relief as the final orgasm bursts in one glorious peak and slowly begins to fade. 

Kyungsoo, doubled over you, briefly admires the mess he left on your stomach before he leans in, careful to avoid the streaks of his cum, and presses a kiss to the side of your head while your eyes are blissfully shut. “Let me get something to clean you up,” He says, “Stay right here.” He runs off to the bathroom and you stretch out languidly, your thighs aching and your pussy still sporadically clenching with aftershocks. 

He cleans you up thoroughly with a damp rag, blushing as much as you had been earlier in the evening as your fingers affectionately card through his hair as he does so. “That was really amazing, Soo.” you tell him quietly. 

“Yeah, it was.” He agrees, finally lifting his gaze to see you smiling tenderly at him. He moves up to kiss you, sweet and slow, before he pulls back and says, “I could spend the est of my life like this.”

[cali-holland]

An Illicit Affair- Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: KOH!Harrison Osterfield X Angel!Reader

Prompt: Harrison can only visit you in the mortal world on the 13th of each month, but, with his powers weakening, he’s given an ultimatum: his crown or you.

Word Count: 3800

Warnings: dark undertones bc it’s Hell?, might be some swearing, my general lack of knowledge of Hell/demons

And shout out to @duskholland​ for hearing all my shitty ideas before I landed on this one 😂

Masterlist   Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

*Moodboard is mine, pics used are not*

Inspired by the lyric from Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift:

“And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times”

~~~~

You smiled, looking through the glass roof, watching as the humans bustled beneath you at the mall. You could see everything from your spot: the employees happily leaving their jobs as the clock struck 1, the high school couple that was on their first date, the children running around the indoor playground, the elderly couple enjoying their ice cream at the food court, the college student that found a $10 bill on the ground that you may or may not have conjured right then for them- everyone was content.

“I don’t think angels are supposed to do that.” You heard a smooth voice behind you as a warmth washed over you.

“I don’t think the devil’s supposed to be with an angel.” You teasingly replied, turning to face Harrison on the roof.

“When does the devil ever listen?” Harrison smirked. He raised a hand to caress your face, doing his best to memorize every little detail.

“I missed you.” You said quietly.

“I missed you, too.” He cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for a gentle, yet passionate kiss to show you just how much he’s missed you this past month.

As King of Hell, he could only leave Hell and visit the mortal world once a month- on the 13th to be exact from noon until midnight. Meanwhile, you, like all other angels, could freely walk the Earth as long as your wings beat. The 13th, though it was a fearful day for most with demons coming about, was the best day for you, every single month, because you got to see Harrison. It was an illicit affair, but neither of you wanted it to end, even if it killed you to watch him disappear into a puff of red smoke every single time.

“You’re late.” You murmured against his lips, your breath falling into his breath. Harrison stayed silent, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, mindful of his horns. His hands found your waist to keep you as intimately close to him as possible. Your fingers ran through his hair, tracing mindless patterns in the soft curls. He leaned into your touch, and you knew something was seriously wrong. You could sense the turmoil within him, stronger than ever before. “What’s troubling you, my love?”

“It’s nothing.” He whispered into your skin, his warm breath tickling you.

You closed your eyes, inhaling a deep breath as you let your mind wander, trying to reach out to his. You could read the minds of mortals and understand what true happiness they sought with ease; with Harrison though, he was much trickier for you to read. His mind was filled with the voices of all the dead souls in the Underworld, but, still, you had to try, if he wasn’t going to tell you. Normally, he would pull away as soon as he felt your mental presence to protect you from having to listen to all the demonic voices, but this time, it was like he wasn’t even present there- in his own mind. You paused your journey through his mind as you realized the voices were louder, and his own thoughts were impossible to hear. You pulled your mind from his and breathed out in confusion, “You’re weak, aren’t you?”

Harrison pulled back from you to look you in the eyes. His dead eyes searched through your lively ones. “How did you know?”

“I read your mind.” You whispered, and his face fell at the realization.

“I couldn’t feel you.” He answered in disbelief.

“Harrison, talk to me. What’s going on?” You asked, and he let out a small sigh.

“I can’t keep coming here.” Harrison’s voice broke as he continued, “Every time I leave Hell, I lose more and more control over it. Yesterday, a few souls got past Cerberus.”

You were silent for a moment, knowing the weight of his words. Cerberus was the physical representation of Harrison’s control over the souls, and the three headed dog kept demons from leaving Hell whenever they pleased. While demons, including himself, could come to the mortal world once a month, he was the only one to continuously suffer from it. Every visit to see you was a chip away at his power; even now, he could feel his grip on the other undead souls slipping away. If he lost that power completely, the demons would overrun the Earth and destroy the angels- everything would go to apocalyptic ruin. Harrison drew his power from the flames of Hell, and the only solution was for him to stay there and not return to the mortal world until he was strong enough to keep the souls at bay.

“You must go.” You said quietly, feeling your heart break at your own words. “You must go and regain your power.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” You could sense the tremor in Harrison’s voice- he was scared of losing his power, but he was scared of losing you even more.

“But you need to. You can’t save me if the demons come.” They were gruesome words, but he needed to hear them. He needed to remember that, while he wanted to protect you, he couldn’t protect you if he lost his powers.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He admitted. “I don’t know when I can return to you.”

“We have eternity, my love.” You reassured him. The familiar red smoke began to circle at his feet, and you quickly pulled him in for one last kiss, “I love you, Harrison.”

He didn’t get the words out before the smoke overcame him and he disappeared, but you already knew- you knew he loved you, and you’d see him again some day.

~~~

When Harrison returned to the Underworld, the familiar red and black gates opened with an ominous hiss. On his walk to his dark palace, he checked in on the surroundings. The same overcast clouds blocked out all sunlight except for the faded rays peeking through just enough to keep it lit, the same river Styx carved out a trail through the never ending darkness, the same flames burned in the distance to illuminate the various paths, and the same dead trees lined those very pathways. It was dreary as always, but it was his domain, his home.

He wanted to bring you here one day, just so he could show you the spots he loved in Hell, albeit they were a bit gloomier than you were used to. You were used to a picnic under the Tree of Life in Heaven, but if you came down here with him, he’d take you for a stroll along the River Styx. He’d introduce you to Cerberus too, the three headed dog that brought him joy even in the darkest pit of Hell.

“You’re back early.” Tom, his grand duke, noted when Harrison returned to the grand palace. When Harrison didn’t reply and continued his stalk to his office, Tom tried again to get his attention, “Was she not there?”

“She was there.” Harrison answered sharply, slamming his office door behind him, wordlessly telling his grand duke that he didn’t want to be bothered at this moment. He let out an angry sigh, steaming coming from his breath as he sat in his large, leather chair. The heat in his office was unbearable today; Hell was unbearable today.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with you on Earth, where the two of you could be together, even if it was just for twelve short hours on the 13th of every month. His eyes flickered over the single black feather that sat in a glass case on his desk, the only thing he had to physically remind him of you.

“It’s almost midnight.” Your voice was just above a whisper.

“Sh. We have time.” Harrison replied softly, running his hands through your hair, before his lips found yours for the hundredth time that day. You could feel every bit of warmth he radiated rushing through your body. In the desperate heat of the kiss, Harrison’s hands roamed your body to pull you closer to him. His finger barely caught on one of your wings, and you jumped away from him, crying out in pain.

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you alright?” He looked at you in concern, not daring to reach out to you. He watched as a single feather dropped from your pure, white angel wings and turned black as night. He felt foolish for forgetting the curse of a demon’s touch, especially his; when a demon touches an angel’s wings, they return to Heaven and lose the ability to fly, forever left to guard the pearly gates above. He got lucky this time. His finger had touched only one feather, not your full wing, but it was enough to make him ashamed of himself and afraid of his own touch.

You took a deep breath as you grabbed the dark feather from the ground, stretching out your wings; the one still tingled from the burn of his touch. When your eyes met Harrison’s, you saw the frightened and ashamed look on his face. You stepped towards him, and he backed away. “Harrison, I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. I hurt you, I almost took away your wings.” He shook his head as he spoke. “I could’ve lost you.”

“It was one feather, and I know you never meant to hurt me.” You reassured him. You flew a little until you were in front of him and took his hands in yours, slipping the black feather into his palm. “They still work. You haven’t lost me.”

Red smoke started to simmer at his feet, and you gave him one last tender kiss. When you pulled away, you smiled softly at him, “I’ll see you in a month.”

It seemed strange to Harrison that it was only a year ago when that occurred; it felt like ages ago, but yet again, that was the life of an immortal. He just wished he could feel like he did back then- powerful as the king of hell with you by his side.

~~~

With each passing day, Harrison‘s stress over his rule increased. More and more, demons were slipping away into the mortal world. It had been three months since he had been to Earth, since he had seen you, and he didn’t feel like he was regaining any of his strength. Tomorrow, the 13th, would’ve been his chance to see you again, but he knew he had to remain in Hell if there was any hope at keeping the demons from overrunning the angels.

“There’s been another escape.” Tom informed Harrison, rushing up to the king as he strolled along the River Styx.

“How many is that now?” He asked, fearing the answer already.

“113.” The grand duke replied, “If any more escape-“

“I know.” Harrison cut off his friend, not wanting to hear what would happen if he didn’t get a better handle on the situation. “I need my strength back, and I need it back now.”

“What if it isn’t about you leaving Hell?” Tom offered, making the kill look at him in confusion, “You’re the King of Hell, of course your reign would weaken in your absence, but what if your actual power is weakened from something else- or rather, someone else?”

Tom was the only one who knew about you, the only one Harrison trusted enough to tell, but Harrison never thought his love for you could be his greatest weakness, not when you felt like his greatest strength. Before Harrison could respond, a voice called out from behind them.

“Someone else? Has the devil found a woman?” The figure stepped out from the shadow of an old oak tree. Harrison and Tom recognized the other demon immediately.

“Lucifer.” Harrison acknowledged curtly. “What do you want?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” Lucifer asked, a hand placed over his chest in offense as he stalked towards them. He feigned innocence, “I was just simply walking past when I saw the Grand Duke run up to you in a hurry, and I feared for our world.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Lucifer.” Tom scoffed. Harrison may have been the king, but Lucifer was always hungry for more power, seeking out ways to seize control of Hell.

“Am I not allowed to be concerned for our world?” 

“When it’s considered eavesdropping on private matters, no you are not allowed to.”

Lucifer clicked his tongue at Tom’s response, his red eyes shifting to Harrison, who stayed silent, “Who is it? A mortal?” Harrison’s jaw clenched, and Lucifer smirked, red eyes lighting up in recognition, “An angel. Why, that’s an interesting pair.”

“What’s it to you?” Harrison questioned, his fingers tingling with a new found heat that rushed through his system.

“Oh, nothing.” He replied, but the answer didn’t satisfy Harrison. “Have you ever seen a wingless angel and the scars that trace their backs? There’s no greater feeling in all the worlds than running a hand through their feathers and watching as each one burns off, listening to their agonizing screams as they retreat to Heaven for the rest of their days.”

At his words, Harrison flooded with a new-found anger, grabbing Lucifer by the neck, his black claws growing out of his hands to prick at his skin. Through gritted teeth, he warned, “If you so much as breathe on her-”

“Or what?” Lucifer tested, “You’re weak. You can’t stop me, but I’d be willing to negotiate.” Slowly, Harrison set him down and tried to calm his breathing, steam coming out with each exhale.

“What’s the deal?”

“I won’t touch your precious angel if you give me the crown and join the mortals.” He offered, and Tom stepped forward, cautiously putting a hand on Harrison’s shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s a trick.” Tom stated, already knowing Harrison would give everything to ensure your safety. If Lucifer took your wings, you would be trapped in Heaven forever, and, as immortals, forever was an even longer time.

“I’ll give you time to think about it, your majesty. After all, I won’t take my chances with Cerberus today when tomorrow is the 13th.” He grinned wickedly, before walking away and disappearing into the shadows of Hell.

“Harrison-“ Tom started, but it was too late; he’d already disappeared, teleporting to his office, one of the perks of being the Devil. The grand duke let out a sigh before hurrying back to the palace to speak with his friend.

By the time Tom reached the palace, Harrison was pacing around the office with a piece of parchment in one hand and the single black feather in the other. Before he could speak, Harrison shoved the paper into the grand duke’s hands, “I need you to give this to her.”

“You can’t give up your kingdom to Lucifer. You know he’ll strip her of her wings and kill you all over again.” Tom reasoned.

“I’ll change the deal- make it so that he can’t harm us. If I don’t, Lucifer will never leave her alone.” There was an eerie silence in the room as Harrison turned away from Tom, stalking over to the fireplace. “Tomorrow, go to her and give her the letter. She needs to know that she isn’t safe anymore.”

“How do you know the letter will pass through the portal with me?”

“I just do.” He replied, his fingers running over the cold feather as his eyes focused on the fire. Tom quietly backed out of the room, letter in hand to prepare for his journey to Earth tomorrow.

Harrison looked at the feather in his hand. He raised it to his lips, murmuring, “It’ll be alright, my love.”

~~~

The past three months had been especially dreary for you. The first month was similar to any other, living on that hope that it was just a matter of days until Harrison would be back, but, of course, he wasn’t strong enough to return after a month away. And then the second month passed, and now it was the third one. You had hope, knowing he’d come back to you at some point, just like he always did.

You weren’t sure if he was getting any stronger. More and more demons were slipping past the gates of Hell and entering the mortal world when they weren’t supposed to be there. At first, the other angels tried to combat them and banish them back to where they belong, but then the demons would rip their wings out. Not many angels remained on Earth, fearing the imminent apocalypse. You remained, though, feeding on that hope that he’d gather his strength and regain his control of the realm.

Without the light of all the angels, Earth was growing darker, colder. You sat on the roof of the mall, right where you were every 13th day of the month, looking through the glass at the people below. The humans weren’t happy, not even when you’d send someone a little gift of joy. And you weren’t happy either; your world was bleak and cold as well without Harrison there. Even Heaven felt wrong to you now. You felt a wave of warmth wrap around you, but it wasn’t the same warmth that Harrison would greet you with; defensively, you turned to the figure.

“I’m a friend.” Tom said, holding up his hands in surrender, one hand clutching tightly onto the letter. You searched his mind for a moment in a search to see if he was speaking the truth. Hearing his thoughts flicker back to Harrison in concern, you pulled yourself back to reality.

“Tom the Grand Duke.” You stated, and he did a little bow for you.

“And you must be Y/N.” He smiled. Harrison had told you of his best friend, the grand duke, but he was never able to introduce the two of you. It was Tom’s job to act as king in his absence; the two of them never able to leave Hell together.

“Is he okay?” You asked, worried about why Harrison would send his friend.

“He’s as okay as he can be.” Tom replied as he held out the letter to you. “He wanted me to give this to you.”

“Thank you.” You said politely. You took the paper from him, opening it up and reading it quickly.

‘My love,

The longer I have been away from you, the weaker I have become. I want more than anything to cross the portal and be with you, but I must be cautious. Lucifer has learned of your importance to me, and he plans to steal your wings to use them and you against me. By the time you read this, I shall be making a deal with him. He will only leave you unharmed if I surrender my crown and my immortal life to him. I will live as a mortal on Earth, powerless and crownless, but it will be worth it because I can still see your beautiful face. I miss you, and I shall see you soon, even if it is in a different life.’

Tom stepped forward hesitantly as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, wetting the letter in the process. He reached out console you, and you leaned into his warm touch, crying from the note. All of the hope you had for Harrison’s return washed away, but you couldn’t let him throw away his life, his title, his world for you.

~~~

“And Y/N remains unharmed,” Harrison said, before adding definitively, “Forever.”

“You have my word.” Lucifer answered. “Anything else?”

“As long as she’s safe.” He stated, and the other demon nodded, holding out a hand to him. Harrison went to shake it, but paused when he felt an odd presence overcome him, like someone had just entered Hell when they weren’t meant to. Before he could go investigate the new arrival, the palace doors opened and in walked Tom with you beside him.

“Y/N?” Harrison questioned, unsure if you were really there or if he had somehow envisioned you. He ran over to you, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here.” You smiled weakly at him. His eyes ran over every detail of your face, taking in all of it, just as he always did after being away from you. He stepped back as he realized your figure wasn’t accompanied by your pure, white wings. He opened his mouth to ask, but you cut him off, “I wasn’t about to let you give up your crown for me.”

“But Heaven-”

“Doesn’t like angels having affairs with the Devil.” You told him with a small laugh. “It didn’t take much for them to free me. I’m here, and I’m here to stay.” Harrison smiled, leaning in to kiss you, overcome with happiness.

“What about our deal?” Lucifer questioned, drawing the attention of the room back to him. Protectively, Harrison stepped in front of you and kept a single intertwined with yours.

“We never shook on it, and now that Y/N’s a demon like you, I’d say there’s nothing you can do to hurt her.” Harrison said.Lucifer ran from the room as a fire flickered in Harrison’s eyes. The room fell silent momentarily before the sound of Cerberus’s distant growls filled Hell, followed by the sound of screaming souls. You felt a wave of heat rush from Harrison’s hand into yours and through your body as he turned to face you. He felt his power come flooding back, the escaped souls returning to the Underworld. The Devil was back at his full strength with you right by his side.

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland​ @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland​ @lonikje​ @sleepybesson​ @sunkisseddreamer​ @hollandsamor

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ 

and, for this fic: @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​

[anakin-danvers]

powerful

gif credit to owner

Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader

Request: “YOU HIT ONE HUNDRED CONGRATS YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN i hope you feel loved and appreciated bc you are!! so very much!! anywaysss can i pls request obi-wan x fem reader and he tells her "you are so fucking powerful” ??” as requested by @corellians-only

Description: After a moment of vulnerability, Obi-Wan reminds you of your strength.

Word count: ~2.5k

Warnings: some angst, language, self-conscious/unappreciated feeling reader, crying, fluff buffet

A/N: a part of my 100 follower celebration! 🥳 thank you Cristina for the request!! 🥰 I hope you all like it! 💞💞

Tags: @acnini @roseofalderaan @ohhellokenobi @goldenkenobi @snips-n-skyguy0501 @cherieboba @catsnkooks @sacred-things @corellians-only @nobie @rishi-moon @obirain @highlycommendable​

join my taglist!

——

The hot tears flow down your cheeks. Weak, weak, you’re so weak. The thought replays in your head once, twice, multiple times. You bite the inside of your cheek, your attempt at controlling your emotions falling short. 

It’s moments like these where you wish you could just leave. Where to, you aren’t sure; all you know is you don’t want to be here, not right now. Your hand comes up to wipe the wetness at your face away, a sense of dread setting within you for reacting the way you did. 

It’s not that big of a deal, just ignore it. 

You wish you could. But for whatever reason, you can’t. It affects you more than you’d ever admit, and each time you can’t help but replay the same words in your head: weak, weak, weak. 

This is not a rare occurrence, and that’s part of what makes you feel so powerless. It seems every time you have a confrontation, your eyes open the faucets of tears. It makes you feel small, so utterly small. 

It’s no different this time. You work in Coruscant’s Senate Executive Building, part of the security division. You’re under the section that organizes the various Senate Guards, determining shifts, layouts, and other such business. You usually love your job, feeling as if you’re doing your part in keeping the peace across the galaxy. However, there are times that you feel unfit for the job, just like today. 

You mishandled a few of the schedules for the week, giving the guard units who usually cover each other the same day off. As a result, there was no one to guard one of the main landing hangars. Thankfully, no mishaps happened, but when your supervisor found out you were the one responsible, he gave you the sermon that caused your break. 

After he had reminded you for the umpteenth time just how dangerous your mistake had been, he dismissed you for the day. The walls of his office did nothing to stop your colleagues from hearing  every word, so you waited until you were out of their deep stares to let the tears flow freely. 

Now you’re headed—actually, you don’t know where you’re headed. You’re walking around the corridors of the building mindlessly, not exactly wanting to go home to be alone with your thoughts. It’s only until you hear a soft voice behind you that you realize which corridor you had walked into. 

At the voice’s second call, you turn around, the worried face of Senator Padmé Amidala looking back at you. 

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek again, the question causing the somewhat controlled tears to jump back to the corners of your eyes, ready to be released onto your face. Padmé’s face softens, and she approaches you to take a hold of your hand. 

“Here, let’s go somewhere else,” she says, leading you to her office. 

You want to protest, not wanting to be a burden for Padmé, but you can’t find the strength to say anything without breaking down again. When the two of you enter her office, you feel some of the weight on your shoulders lessen thanks to being away from the public eye. She let’s go of your hand, and walks to the couches. She takes a seat, and you stand there for a second, contemplating whether you should sit down or just excuse yourself.

“Please, Y/N, take a seat.”

You oblige, taking a seat on the couch next to her. Padmé and you are friends, your friendship developing thanks to your position. You see each other often in the building, and would often greet one another; one day in particular, your greeting had become more of an actual conversation, and you two soon wound up having tea together at least once a week. The scent of your favorite tea takes you out of your thoughts, and you look over to see Padmé already serving you a cup. She hands it over to you, a soft and comforting smile on her face. 

“Now, do you want to talk about how you’re doing?”  

You take a sip before answering. “It’s nothing really, Senator Amidala. I’ve...I’ve just had a long day.”

A frown etches itself onto her features. She knows you’re keeping the details from her, but she won’t insist. “Well, if it helps, we can talk about other things, to keep your mind off of work. And please, you know you don’t have to be formal with me.”

You nod, not having realized you’d let the formal title slip. “Yes, that’d be nice. Tell me, how has your senator business been?”

With the question, Padmé begins a rundown on all the things she’s been working on since your last meeting. She talks about the recent blockade attempt by the Trade Federation, as well as some of the issues the Loyalist Committee have been discussing. It helps clear your mind, as she had suggested, and you’re thankful for it. 

You go up to wipe the corner of your eye to rid of the crusty feeling left by your dried tears. You‘re smiling, the usual smile you have whenever you’re with Padmé. She’s telling you about a rather amusing experience she recently had at a senator dinner when there’s a quick knock on the door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me get that,” Padmé says, patting your hand before getting up to open the door. 

When she does open it, the unmistakable dark robes of Anakin Skywalker catch your eye. You see he makes a move to step in, a wide smile on his face. At the sight of you, however, he stops, a surprised look replacing his smile as he speaks to Padmé in a hushed tone. 

Placing your cup down, you stand and make your way over to the door. You plan to give them some space, knowing they’d both appreciate it. You’ve suspected for some time now that there is something going on between the Jedi and your friend, something more than a work relationship or a friendship even.  

You stand near Padmé, close enough for her to notice you but far enough as to not listen in to their conversation. She turns to look at you, Anakin giving you a small smile as he looks at you as well. 

“I should get going, Padmé. I have some things to do before going home tonight. Thank you for the talk.”

“There’s nothing to thank, Y/N. You know I always enjoy our time together.”

You hug her as a goodbye, telling Anakin goodbye as well before leaving the office. You’re a few doors down from Padmé’s office when you hear the soft sound of her door closing, the two having gone inside. 

In reality, you have nothing to do before going home. Leftovers from yesterday will serve for dinner, and you’d gone to get your weekly groceries and supplies a couple days back. No, nothing to do but get started on some work for tomorrow, maybe go to bed a little earlier...

You almost question whether you’re already asleep when you see the personification of your favorite dreams before you. 

“Obi-Wan.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, cerulean eyes locking with yours. He smiles at you, a smile that can take away any worry from your mind. You approach him, your feet seemingly leading you to him on their own. It’s until you’re standing before him that you’re suddenly shy. 

“Y/N, lovely seeing you.” 

Your heart leaps. You’re at a loss for words, and you beg the stars to let you say something. Thankfully, they compromise with you by promoting him to speak. 

“I just arrived with Anakin. I needed to talk with Senator Organa about something, and Anakin said he had some business here as well, though he wouldn’t say what exactly...” he trails off, his voice thoughtful. 

You contemplate telling him that he’s with Padmé, but know you can’t do that. They don’t need anyone else on their tail. 

“Well, I’m sure Anakin knows what he needs to do.”

Obi-Wan nods at your words. “I suppose he does.” The thoughtful expression he held changes to one at ease. “And where are you headed, if I may ask? Maybe I can walk with you.”

It’s the way your heartbeat is thumping at your chest that lets you know this is reality and not indeed a dream. You rush to answer, not wanting to lose your ability to speak once again. 

“I’m headed home, actually. I...I finished early for the day.” Not a lie, but not the entire truth. 

“If I may?” He extends his arm, and you take it, tingling sensations present at the touch. 

Due to your job, you’ve worked with Obi-Wan on different occasions. Like with Padmé, you developed a friendship with the Jedi, one that you’ve come to deeply appreciate. Only, unlike your relationship with Padmé, you have feelings for Obi-Wan, more than the usual feelings one has for friends, even close friends. 

“How was your day? I heard there was a mix up with some guards. I hope that didn’t cause you any problems?”

Your heart sinks at his words. Of course he had heard about that. Just like he’s worked with you before, he’s worked with your department countless times. In fact, he’s currently on an assignment in collaboration with your department, the one he had probably come to discuss with Senator Organa. 

You don’t realize you’ve tightened your grip on Obi-Wan’s arm until he puts his other hand on top of your own. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you, worry etched onto his face. 

“Y/N, my dear, is something wrong?”

“I...” The pounding of your heart fills your ears, and you close your eyes while taking a deep breath to try to control it. “I’m okay. I just...I was the one responsible for that mistake.”

Before you know it, the tears have returned to your face. Obi-Wan stops walking when he realizes, taking a soft hold of your arms. You wipe away at your face, embarrassment making you want to run and hide. 

“There, there, it’s okay.” Obi-Wan’s hands, his warm, sturdy hands, rub your arms, the feeling alleviating the pounding of your head. “It was an honest mistake. No one is exempt from making one of those every once in a while.”

You shake your head, all the feelings you’ve cooped up for days now, feelings not even relating to today’s events, come crashing down all at once. 

“I—I know that. It’s not even that which gets me so upset. I just feel so utterly weak,” you say in between your tear induced hiccups. 

“Weak? Darling, you’re not weak.”

“I am, Obi. I’ve been keeping these feelings bottled up inside of me, and I let them get the best of me. They’re the reason I made that stupid mistake, and they’re the reason I broke down after the talk I was given.”

You cover your face with your hands. It’s an attempt to stop the sobs from escaping your mouth, an attempt to hide from Obi-Wan’s searching look, an attempt to just disappear.

The feeling of being pulled into Obi-Wan’s chest is what makes you finally move your hands from your face. When you do, you’re met by his neck, and without any hesitation, you bury your face into it, your arms wrapping around him. He holds you there for what seems like hours, though is most likely just a minute. His hands rub up and down your back, each stroke acting like another hammer into the walls you’d eradicated. 

“It’s been a rough few days.” Your voice is muffled, but Obi-Wan hears you nonetheless. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You’re about to say no, afraid of facing it all. But when his fingers come up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, the final hammer to your wall causes it to crumble. 

“Yes.”

At your response, he pulls you back, making sure to still keep you close. His hands stay on your arms, keeping you physically and emotionally steady. 

“I’ve been having some problems with my family. It’s...it’s nothing big really. I just haven’t felt very appreciated by them. You know how they can be.”

He nods at your words. You’ve talked to him about them before, and he’s met them on two occasions. 

“I just feel like they don’t see everything I’m doing sometimes. And it really hurts me, because I feel like they expect more and I don’t know if I can give that to them. I—I don’t want you to think they’re horrible people; I love them, very much so, but they do have their faults, as everyone, I suppose.“

“I would never think that,” Obi-Wan says, and at his words, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You’re hesitant about sharing your family troubles with others, especially Obi-Wan. You don’t want him to view them in a bad light, especially because of how important he and they are to you. 

“And I guess that’s been clouding my mind a lot. So when that happened today, I just, I guess I broke. It made me feel like I can’t even do that right, the one thing I pride myself in being good at. And to make matters worse, it made me feel so vulnerable, so weak, how easily I can break.”

“Don’t...” Obi-Wan sighs. “Please don’t think of yourself like that. Y/N, you are so fucking powerful, so strong, so resilient. You are the kindest, most caring being I know. You work so hard, and do it with purpose. I need you to realize that.” His eyes are locked onto your own, light cerulean orbs searching for any reaction from you. 

Your head is spinning. Obi-Wan’s words take a minute to process. When you finally muster the words to speak, he’s still looking at you with the same intensity. 

“Thank you.” 

It’s simple. A thank you. But it’s exactly what sums up everything that you feel as a result of his words. A thank you for reminding you just how powerful you are. 

One of his hands slides down your arm to take a hold of your hand, leaving a blazing  trail at its touch. Holding onto your fingers, he brings your knuckles up to his lips. He kisses them tenderly, leaving you breathless. 

“There’s nothing to thank, my darling.”

Before you let the moment pass, you bring your other hand to hold his. With both of your hands holding onto his own, it’s your turn to kiss his knuckles. Your lips connect with the warm skin, and when you move back, your lips are tingling. 

If Obi-Wan is surprised by your actions, he doesn’t show it. He simply smiles, the smile that you love so much. You smile in return, hoping that you can convey to him just how thankful you are for this, for him.

He does know, for when you see him again the next day, he takes no time to greet you with another kiss on your hand, his lips lingering longer than before, seemingly spelling out the word itself: powerful. 

[bosspigeon]

WIP Wednesday

i wasn’t tagged or anything, but i was encouraged, so i am gonna post the main thing i’m working on rn, which is an Adam/Nate prompt and also a little...... bonus? i’ll put that one under a cut, since it’s definitely more adult-oriented 👀👀👀 (minors will be blocked~)

Watching Adam has become something of a self-soothing ritual for Nate over the centuries, even when it hurt him to do so. There was an odd sort of comfort in watching, in tracing the familiar paths of his silent, shackled longing with heavy eyes and quiet avarice. Then, he had to be careful not to overdo it, to make it obvious, however desperate he was to memorize every inch of his commanding agent, as if every moment with him would be the last. Adam’s eyes are sharp, his awareness of himself and how people observe him sometimes bordering on paranoia (though he would gut himself before admitting such weakness) and Nate learned to watch him when he was otherwise occupied, honed in with an intense, single-minded focus on whatever task the Agency had for them.

It became easier, over time, for him to contain the hunger of his gaze, to pick and choose the correct time to indulge himself in admiring the man who gradually became more than simply his superior, but his friend. Nate learned to play it off well when he was caught, to corral his racing heart like an errant beast, and he fervently thanked whatever power would listen to a lost creature like him that Adam’s interpersonal skills were not nearly so sharp as his observational ones. There was guilt, of course. A dark twist of shame that took far too long to shake, the niggling idea that there was something wicked about wanting the way he did, but Adam drew his gaze relentlessly from the very first moment they met. Nate was bedraggled, exhausted in a way beyond the physical, and no longer human, but meeting this steadfast, powerful, beautiful man lit a fire in his belly that warmed him, and even dulled the gnawing there, in a way he could never hope to explain.

He smiles to himself under the cover over darkness as he watches now, flushed and almost giddy with the knowledge that he does not have to hide it anymore.

and here is the spicy content!!! now, i may not post this, bc it is...... very self indulgent, and it’s been way too long since i’ve posted anything like it lmao. working title is “i am respectfully asking to motorboat adam du mortain” if that tells you anything about what i’m into

Nate can no longer contain himself, but at the very least he takes it slowly. He knows well enough how little experience his friend has with these sorts of things, and however desperate he is, he's spent three centuries restraining himself, he can keep it up for a while longer. He starts at that strong jaw, kissing and nibbling and suckling little bruises into the pale skin that will fade in no time at all, but he remembers well where he places each one. He works his way down Adam's throat next, feels more than he hears the blood rushing beneath the skin. He lingers there for a while, while his hands busy themselves with pushing up the soft heather blue t-shirt, and he glides his fingers reverently along the solid plane of Adam's belly and higher still. He cups the strong pectorals in his hands, giving them a long, thoroughly indulgent squeeze that has Adam choking on a breath.

Nate smiles against his throat. "These shirts have been driving me to distraction since they came into fashion," he admits. "Whoever decided to introduce them, I owe an effusive letter of thanks. Perhaps a fruit basket."

Adam barks out a startled laugh and claps both hands over his face, belly jumping and twitching as Nate continues to fondle his chest, the fleshy give of the surface gently padding the hard muscle underneath. His nipples are drawn tight beneath Nate's fingers, and he ventures a light pinch to one that draws a strangled sound from Adam’s lips. Nate looks up, delighted, and squeezes harder. Adam’s hips jerk again, this time hard enough that he lifts his friend up with it, and he can only laugh helplessly and drag his nails along the hard little buds again to garner a similar reaction.

[unexpected-nightview]

In many of your answers you mention that Zhang Rishan is a bit of an idiot and it isn't helped because Ba Ye can be very hard to read. How do you feel about Hanahaki disease fics?

I MEAN. WHEN YOU PUT IT LIKE THAT IT DOES SOUND WAY MORE MEAN THAN I ORIGINALLY INTENDED TO SKSKSKSKSKSSK But. Yeah. I mean. I do love my Zhangs clumsy and borderline dumb when it comes to romance because let’s be real. They put so much energy into fighting, looking cool and mysterious and whatnot...that some things should be lacking. Also it’s very endearing to have these almost godlike characters to fail at something so “mundane”? And so very, very, VERY entertaining >:). Now. About the Hanahaki Disease. I’ll admit that I haven’t read that many about it? Not bc it is unappealing but I guess at some point I made up my mind that most of the times it ends with the character’s death (probably untrue but the brain works in mysterious ways). And I so happen to avoid that sort of fate. Because, while I do love my angst, I prefer when it comes with the reward of a happy ending ;_; Howeverrrrrr! (no tw warmings bc there isn’t much that could be considered graphic or gory or whatever, JFYI)

I kind of want to tie this with the headcanon that Zhang Rishan is just the *worst* when it comes to him getting sick?

Like. Maybe the Zhangs, Ba Ye and someone else (Jinxi? Old Wu? for variety’ sake) return from their latest tomb raiding and aside from a few scratches and bug bites, they are all pretty much unscathed. Rishan returns home, goes to sleep and wakes up with purple petal flowers scattered around his chest and pillow and his lungs feel a bit...congested? Stuffy? But that’s probably due to all the dust he breathed yesterday. And the petals...I mean. He has seen weirder things. So who knows. Probably there are some mice running around the mansion? He makes a mental note to notify the servants and off he goes. It’s going to be a busy day that will most likely turn into a busy set of weeks so there is no time to waste. No sir, no amount of dust-congested lungs is going to stop Rishan from doing his work. The problems starts when during one of those pesky coughing fits petals keep pouring and pouring out of his mouth. His subordinates freak the hell out and they call Fo Ye who immediatly drags Rishan to his room while asking one of the soldiers to bring Ba Ye to the mansion ASAP. (Should I mention that just by hearing this Rishan starts coughing again purple and pink petals? yeah. that.) Ba Ye of course is as ????? as both Zhangs are. What Rishan has is *not* a normal disease. Perhaps it’s a curse from the tomb? What it is clear is that it falls under Qi expertise. So Fo Ye and Ba Ye decide that Ba Ye is going to stay at the mansion and do his research there bc that way he can supervise Rishan more closely. Rishan tries to convince them that it isn’t necessary but Ba Ye gives him a *look* and he has to stop mid-sentence bc his heart is doing a *thing* and he can feel more petals coming out. If he didn’t know better he would assume that Ba Ye is more scared than he is letting on? Like. Yeah. That does make sense. They are friends. Right? Or more like comrades? Brothers in arms? That might be too much....He is the sibling of Ba Ye’s bff? Friendly acquaintances that have gone through many perils together? That’s it. Anyway. Ba Ye should know better by now. Rishan is strong and can deal with worse things and really there is no need to make that painful face each time Rishan starts spilling pink petals left and right.  So Ba Ye stays and makes sure that he is always by Rishan’s side. And Rishan doesn’t know what to make of that. He is glad that he has company now that Fo Ye has forbidden him from doing any task that isn’t paperwork...but...the time they spend together is mostly a quiet one, with Ba Ye focusing on studying the hundreds of books Fo Ye has managed to gather in order to find a cure. And the thing is. Bored and restless as he is...Rishan finds himself more and more distracted by the sight of Ba Ye reading in front of him. At first he just observes Ba Ye’s features, marveling at the softness of his eyes, the elegance of his nose...then his attention lands on the silent movements that animate Ba Ye while reading. How his eyebrows twitch when he thinks he has found an anwer....how he bites his lip while concentrating. However, as charmed as Rishan is, he always makes sure to not let Ba Ye catch him staring.

Days turn into weeks and weeks into months. Rishan is starting to find more and more difficult to leave his room but he fights the tiredness just so he can spend a few hours with Ba Ye. The piles of books that Fo Ye had brought are getting smaller by the day and no cure has been found yet. Their time together is less quiet now, even more when the only thing they can do is wait for more books to arrive. Rishan can see how the situation is also taking a toll on Ba Ye. He looks thinner, paler. The rings under his eyes are starting to get more and more noticeable too. For days Rishan fights the urge to ask, no, *demand* that Ba Ye goes home and get some damn rest. But he knows Qi Tiezui can be as stubborn as a mule so he bites his tongue and fights the urge to cough up more red petals.  One day though, he can’t stop himself and clearly, that the most stupid thing to do. Because now Ba Ye is looking at him with this *painful* expression, mixed with so many things he can’t put a name on and it’s making Rishan feel like choking. He gets one of the worst coughing fits yet, red and yellow petals keep pouring out and the only thing that keeps him anchored is the warmth of Ba Ye’s hands on his back.  When he finally manages to calm down, Ba Ye brings him to his room. They walk, side by side, Tiezui’s grip on his arm never faltering. The man keeps talking, probably trying to lighten the mood, most likely to hide how shaken he is. At some point he offers to go to the kitchen and make Rishan’s favourite soup. That surprises Rishan bc he doesn’t remember telling him that information, but Ba Ye only offers a soft smile and a “It’s the way you look when you eat it”. And Rishan looks at that smile, those gentle eyes and finally realizes it. Zhang Rishan is hopelessly in love with Qi Tiezui. That night he starts tasting blood in his throat. A week goes by and Rishan can’t leave his room anymore. He can only lie on his bed, and fight the coughs and the yellow petals that keep pouring out of his mouth. Much to his surprise, Ba Ye doesn’t return to his house. Instead, he stays at Rishan’s room, keeping him company. Sometimes he reads stories out loud. Sometimes he rants about some issue happening at the incense hall. Sometimes he just stits there, staring quietly at the floor. Rishan notices how Ba Ye flinches each time the petals come out blood tainted, but he doesn’t say anything.

Time passes but Rishan is too weak now to even notice it. His whole world is just the room, the petals and Ba Ye’s voice. During one of his lucid moments, he hears Tiezui coughing. Rishan manages to open his eyes quick enough to catch a few yellow petals falling from Ba Ye’s hand. And that...that’s what does it. He sobs, broken and ashamed because whatever this disease of his is, it’s now inside Ba Ye’s body. And he feels so terribly guilty because if it wasn’t for his weakness, this wouldn’t have happened. His eyes are so filled with tears, he can barely see anything. However, he can feel warm hands cupping his face. “Rishan, what are you talking about?”. And because he is weaks and so very exhausted... “I love Ba Ye”. Rishan was sure those warm hands would move away, angry and repulsed at such confession. And yet, there they stay, taking away the tears and turning his head to the side. Ba Ye is there, eyes filled with nothing but tenderness and sadness.”You daigua. You really had to wait until now to tell me that”. Ba Ye’s voice is faint and broken. “That’s so unfair of you”. And his face must have done something, because Ba Ye gives him the same look that he has been giving him these last months. ...Oh. “Oh indeed”. Ba Ye laughs bitterly and leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.  And then Rishan starts coughing. He coughs and coughs and coughs and now there is nothing but white petals. The coughing doesn’t stop and Rishan is starting to feel the lack of air, slipping faster and faster nto unconsciousness. The last thing he hears is Tiezui’s voice calling his name. And then nothing.

.........................

And bc I said that I like angst with happy endings....*drumroll* Rishan wakes up the next morning, weak but with his lungs free. Tiezui is sleeping next to him and there is a fuckton of white petals lying around. Fuba survive, get healthy and live happily ever after! YEI LOVE WINS! :D Initially I wanted to keep it more summarized since the Hanahaki Disease isn’t something I’m that familiar to? But then...mayhem!

PS : the petals are from chrysanthemums and the thing with the colors is a mix between what I found while looking around and my own interpretations. *jazz hands*

[linphd]

monoma x fem!reader | hateful sex [comfort] [3/3]

neito monoma x reader

female reader

When (Y/N) comes back from a fight with huge scars, nobody is able to cheer her up. Thus, they call Neito.

warning : kinda angsty themes, insecurities.

for those who didn't read the smuts but want to read the comfort : know that neito and (y/n) used to hate each other and actually ended up having hateful sex, throughout their 1st year. during their 2nd year, it wasn't a secret anymore bc they actually got closer and closer, and have to stop denying they love each other!!!

That fight was the worst one (Y/N) had ever gotten into. It was because she was still Rock Lock's intern, she had to fight alongside him. But the yakuzas were too strong for her. She came out of there alive, but she had blood all over her body. She had been fighting with that one drunk guy with knives, and he cut her deep enough for him to severe big veins and arteries. She swore there was that one cut she could see her bone through.

        After being healed by Recovery Girl and spending some days at the hospital -she didn't want anyone to visit her, and as scary as she was, people respected her choice and only texted her, so only her parents visited her- she went back to the dorms and stayed in her room.

Many of her friends walked to her, tried to talk to her. But (Y/N) didn't reply. She could tell that they would stare at her scars, because according to her, they were the most noticeable thing on her body, despite them being hidden under her clothes.

         She had even ignored her texts, for days. Sometimes, her friends would catch her going to the bathroom or taking something to eat from the fridge, but she wouldn't talk to them a lot. Of course, every time Mina or Momo would start a conversation, (Y/N) would reply. But that was it, and it had been like that for a whole week.

       But that night, (Y/N) had forgotten her phone on a counter in the kitchen, as she had made some effort and had eaten with a few friends of her -still not wanting her whole class to see her. The girls only wanted to give it back to her, but it buzzed. Thus, Mina and Ochaco thought it was a great idea to see who it was, Mina knowing the girl's password.

neito

your periods are way too long

(y/n)

stfu

neito

just tell me what's wrong then 🙄 is it because of your fight with the villain? you told me you were okay

(y/n)

I was at the hospital but now I'm back I'm just tired

neito

so you WERE HURT WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME

(y/n)

I told you I'm okay I'm at the dorms rn I just didn't talk cause I was tired

neito

sleep then maybe I'll walk by 😏

(y/n)

please don't

and stop with that emoji

*NEW* : neito

you chose to like me so you have to like the emojis

         ''I'm actually quite shocked that she didn't give him a shitty nickname.'' Mina said. ''Girls, don't look. I'm going to give her back her phone.'' Momo said, taking the phone off Ochaco's hands and walking to (Y/N)'s room. The brunette knocked, and as she heard a hum, she opened the door. ''(Y/N), you forgot your phone.'' Her friend was turning her back to her, her body under the sheets of her bed. She was watching some random show on her computer, but Momo wanted her to feel better. She had noticed a tiny scar on her cheek, maybe it had some implication in her state of mind ?

''Do you want me... to call Monoma ?'' The brunette asked, out of the blue. And even if (Y/N) stayed silent at first, she ended up saying : ''You know what ? Yeah. Please call him.'' She replied. Maybe she was too scared to call someone herself. Momo nodded, and actually used the girl's phone to call him, before settling it back on a table next to the bed. Then, she walked out, not wanting to bother (Y/N) more than she had already done.

A few minutes after, Neito arrived, not even minding to knock at the door -but still carefully locking it after. When he saw (Y/N) all wrapped in her blankets, the blonde took off his shoes before jumping on the bed. He was back from a training, so he had the U.A sports outfit on. ''What's so wrong you wouldn't talk to anyone for days ?'' He asked, his usual smile on. (Y/N) heavily sighed, and sat up, pushing the blankets. Thus, Neito moved to sit further on the bed, so she could have the space she was trying to have.

The girl started to take off her shirt, making him giggle. ''Naked already ? I thought you were tired.'' He said. However, as he noticed the look she gave him, he immediately regretted it and his smile faded, his eyes focusing on her skin now that her shirt was gone. Then he saw them ; the scars. They were enormous, and obviously weren't done healing. ''Don't you have bandages to put on it ?'' Neito only asked. He didn't care she had scars ; but why wasn't she taking care of them ?! ''Yeah but... when I put the bandages I remember I have them.'' She said.

        Slowly, the blonde touched and traced his fingers gently around one of the scars, making her hiss. ''Does it hurt ?'' He asked. ''Obviously !'' He scoffed. ''That's why we use bandages, dumbass.'' He said. But (Y/N) didn't reply. She looked like she was about to cry, but she didn't. Instead, she actually gave him everything they needed to heal her scars. As Neito started to disinfect them, he wondered why she was so sad about it. ''What's wrong with those, anyway ?'' He asked, not even thinking about teasing her and give her his crazy smile he would always give. Even a smirk didn't cross his mind.

         ''I'm gonna have them forever ! If I ever get outside in a swimsuit or something, it'll be the first thing people will notice !'' The girl replied. ''So what ? Heroes have scars. It shows that they fight. We should respect heroes with scars, they did that to themselves to protect civilians.'' It wasn't really the words that surprised (Y/N) -even though they were surprisingly wise and kind- but it was the fact that Neito Monoma had been the one pronouncing them.

          She remained quiet during the whole thing. When the blonde was finally done wrapping the bandages around her, she put back on her pyjamas top. ''What do you want to do ? What were you watching ?'' He asked, settling himself on her bed. ''A show, but we can put on a movie.'' She said, getting under the blankets just as he had. (Y/N) quickly put a random movie on her computer before turning to hug Neito. He chuckled at the gesture and hugged her back, resting his cheek against her head.

         ''What do you want to do, hm ?'' He asked. ''Just hug and stay quiet.'' She replied. They did remain quiet for a few minutes, only hearing each other breathing. ''I hate the scars cause I already don't like much how my body is, and now if I have big ass scars to catch everyone's attention, it's gonna get even worse. And people will pity me for it, heroes don't get pity ! It's the worst thing that could've happened !'' She whispered, feeling her tears falling on the boy's chest.

       However, Neito reacted the only way he could ; by mocking her. ''That's not very a way to stay quiet.'' He said. But actually, it made (Y/N) burst out laughing. ''Oh my God, I was confessing something !'' she said, looking at him, smiling. But suddenly, her smile faded. She cupped his cheeks, looking deep into his eyes. ''What ?'' He whispered. ''I think I don't hate you anymore. You won't want to see me again if that's the case, right ? If I hated you I wouldn't want you here, but I know it's not the case cause I'm scared that you won't talk to me anymore !'' She said, sniffling.

        The blonde only rolled his eyes. ''(Y/N), I stopped hating you the first time I slept in your bed instead of going back to my dorm.'' He said, in a casual tone. It made the girl gasp. ''So it stopped being hateful sex a while ago ! Why didn't you tell me ?!'' She asked, actually confused if she had to laugh or not -some giggles escaped her mouth, then. Her reaction made the blonde mirror her action and giggle, actually caressing her cheek once he had calmed down.

        ''Cause I like those little sessions we have together. I would be so sad if you don't want anyone to see your body ever again only because of some scars. If you heal them well, they'll disappear a lot. And Eri can help, right ?'' he asked referring to the girl (Y/N) and the others had rescued from that terrible fight. She remained silent, only gulping and staring at him. ''Do you know how much I actually love you ?'' He asked, out of the blue. It only made her blink. ''I never wanted to tell you cause I wanted you to say it first. I'm not weak enough to admit it first. But you need to hear it, right ?'' He asked.

         And as soon as he said so, (Y/N) forgot about her scars. He didn't care about them, was even saying positive things about them, right ? She wasn't going to make love -it was considered this now- with anyone else, right ? She knew they had a love-hate relationship. All this time, she had hoped those little kisses and hugs here and there meant something. Thus, as he comforted her and accepted to give up on his ego only for her to feel better, she knew it wasn't the hate speaking.

        And at this moment, she couldn't love him more. Maybe they could finally admit they loved each other, and stop making their classmates roll their eyes at their denial. Maybe they could still have hateful sex, but love each other once it was over. It had worked during all this time, right ? They obviously loved each other whenever they were done, and it worked, despite them denying it, right ?

          Cause as much as (Y/N) wanted to hate herself at the fact she would date the rival of her class, she couldn't, as he had been the only one she was looking for during her breakdown. That meant he was home to her. He was her emotional support. Even if they wanted to kill each other most of the time. ''Fucking loser, you admitted it first.'' (Y/N) said, before bursting out laughing. And even if it was because her scars weren't healed yet, Neito was going to win the pillow fight by fucking destroying her. She deserved him, calling him a loser and laughing at his face ! But yeah... they could still hate each other. They could just admit it a bit less, now.

kind of AU where they fought the yakuzas in 2nd year

[tokyoghoose]

this fic contains spoilers for my hero academia: vigilantes and mentions death

[ 7:00pm ]

It's raining. It's hard against the glass of the windows in the cramped apartment and it scares the two cats that usually lounge on the sill. The wind is wild and causes the trees to dance with intensity and you could call it a storm but there's no thunder or lightning and it seems like the sun is still trying to peak through the large, overbearing clouds. It wouldn't be that big of a deal except it hasn't rained in weeks, and today isn't just some other day in the year—not for Aizawa.

It's May fifth and the sun should be high in the blue sky because that was the best type of weather, especially on a day like today. But no, it's raining and it gives him a sense of dread and uneasy nostalgia. He wouldn't really mind the rain if it was any day but today. It makes his head hurt and his chest clench.

He stalks through the door of his home, turning to lock it before calling out to you and slowly peeling off his hero gear. He wanted to work some more but his body fell to fatigue and his eyes were burning. He was honestly lucky enough to capture that last villain. It doesn't help that his head is foggy and he ran out of eye drops and medicine for the oncoming headache. He just wants to sleep.

"Y/n?" He calls again, gripping the edge of the dining room chair, still on edge. His white knuckles on relax when he hears the padding of feet and a towel rustling in your hair. You smile when you see him and his chest feels just a little bit lighter.

"Hey, baby. How was patrol?" You lean up to kiss his cheek before helping him take off the rest of his clothes to reveal his black tank top underneath. It's become some sort a routine when you both are home at the same time. It's domestic and Aizawa enjoys it more than he'd like to admit. It provides comfort and reassurance that you're really there with him, even on an off day. You two could have a fight and you'd still help him get out of the clothing.

He kisses the top of your head, shrugging the question off. It's a clear sign he doesn't want to talk about as he ruffles your wet hair and heads towards the shower. He doesn't expect you to remember the birthday of a guy you didn't even know, and Aizawa hardly spoke about him unless he was absolutely smashed from alcohol—even that was a rare occurrence. During those times he always happened to spill his guts and confess things he never would have—that's how the two of you got moved in with each other, how he confirmed he wanted to marry you and start a family, and his past as a UA student involving Oboro shirakumo and the weight the name carries on Aizawa's shoulders. That was so long ago, he doesn't blame you for pushing it out of your mind. He wishes he could do the same.

He stands under the showerhead, letting the water drown him. For a moment he wishes he could melt with it and swirl down the drain in following. Every year it's like the memories become more vivid. He can hear his voice still clear as day, just like during that battle. He clenches his fists, gritting his teeth. Fourteen years later and it's like it happened yesterday. He should've done more, he should've been able to save him. Then again, if it weren't for the broken gourd he probably wouldn't have saved anyone.

So caught up in his thoughts, Aizawa hadn't heard the soft knock at the door before it's pushed open with a creak. He also hadn't realized he's been crying until you're gentle voice makes him aware.

"Shouta? Are you okay?"

He cowers away uncharacteristically, running his face under the hot water before turning it off. It drips steadily but the silence in between still feels empty. Empty. He hates the feeling of emptiness. Then there's a crack of thunder that accompanies his thoughts and he also hates that it makes him jump. It's like his late friend is yelling at him for not opening up.

It doesn't take much to coax him out of the tub and once he's dressed you wrap him up in your arms.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

It's not that you don't believe him but you don't. Your eyebrows furrow and your expression ultimately betray how you feel about his reply. But you don't pry because he hates that. It takes him time to open up and just trying to force it out will only make him out up his guard—no matter how long you've known each other.

"How about some tea, hm?"

———

The two of you have settled on the sofa, curled up into Aizawa's side in silence while listening to the storm outside—it seems likes it's only angrier now, whipping about. It's an intense storm but something seems familiar about it.

Aizawa's just staring ahead, obviously in his head. Sure, it may have been a long day but this is more than that. He can brush off a couple of villains that have gotten away because he knows he can count on someone else to get them—even if he beats himself up about it for a bit. No. This stare is focused, yet blank. It's deep-rooted in his mind.

You tap the side of your mug timidly, debating on if you should ask again. You would like the reassurance that your husband's truly okay, but more so you'd like to give him another chance. You reach for his hand, cupping it tightly beneath yours and giving a firm, reassuring squeeze so he knows you're there.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It comes off quieter than you mean it to and for a minute you're not sure he heard you. You open your mouth to try again just in case when he cuts you off:

"It shouldn't be raining on his birthday."

For the first time that night, you really look at your husband and even though he's facing the blank television you can see the thin glossiness in his eyes. Tears of frustration, you're sure of it. He's only cried a few times—although most of the time it's because his eyes are so dry, he can't help it. This time, however, it's real, genuine tears. You urge him to continue with another squeeze of his hand, moving to out your mug down to wrap an arm around his shoulder.

"He hated the rain. It should be sunny with blue fucking skies."

Aizawa speaks quietly but there's a bark in his tone, frustration, and something like sadness laced in. You decide it's grieving. He moves to pinch the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves. When he closes his eyes a few hot tears slip from the corners of his eyes.

"Every year—it's haunting. I-I couldn't save him and it's a constant reminder in the back of my head. He sacrifices himself for a group of kids and I just barely beat the villain? I feel so weak, y/n.

And every time those kids go into battle..- it's all I can think about. All it takes is one training to go wrong and we've been close too many times.." He chokes upon his words, a silent sob wracking his body and his shoulders stutter. This year it's all too much for him. Usually, he can take May fifth with gritted teeth and one sleepless night, but it seems like everywhere he looks it's another memento. It's painful and draining and it tears away is tough, calm demeanor slowly. It wears him down.

He feels like a rock combating a hurricane and he's eroding.

You're at a loss for words, pulling him into a hug and soothing out his hair, cooing gently into his ear that it's not his fault and he's been holding onto the burden for too long. There's only so much he could've done at that age.

"I can't let it go. Shirakumo is apart of me; I can't just forget about it- him like that. If it was the other way around, he would've been dragged down. He would've fought back. He would've saved me."

Aizawa's words are muffled as he continues, slowly turning into silent shudders. It's so uncharacteristic of him that it almost scares you. You move to lean the two of you against the couch, letting him get it all out.

It hurts to see him so vulnerable and so unlike the man you know and the hero the media has made him out to be. His sorrow resembles more to the storm outside more than his anger and annoyance ever could—the storm that he's created and burned into his head, bringing him down whenever he has doubt. It's not raging- just...sad, tragic.

So you wipe his tears again and lay him to your chest, brushing his hair from his shoulder until his breath goes quiet and until this May fifth passes slowly, painfully like the others prior and the future ones.

At least the rain has stopped.

———

announcements!

some of this is definitely ooc for shouta but i really wanted to have someone cry 👁- bc im a sadist ig

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!