#i have never asked you for anything before santa
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icarusredwings · 4 hours ago
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Thinking about married poolverine at the x mansion for the Christmas parties.
I like to think that even after he's quit drinking and is older, Wade lets him sit around the mansion and drink a shit ton of egg nog and just.. chill. Wade won't let anyone ask him to do anything except.. what he didn't know.. is that he signed logan up to be santa for the younger kids, and he's definitely dressed as Mrs. Clause, a wig, heels, red and white fluffy skirt, everything.
"You want me to wear what??"
"Oh, come on its for the kids peanut! Besides... ill repay you later~"
"Wade, these kids are like 12 theyre not gonna-....fine"
By the adult party runs around and the kids under 21 are forced off into their rooms, morph kurt and logan are lounging on the couch trying to sing a german carol after busting out the GOOD Alchool but Kurt forgets half of it so its just the three of them mummbling nonsense and wade thinks its the cutest most humble thing he's ever seen Logan do. Just.. a guy being a guy with his friends. And he's so happy. Soooo happy to finally have them back. Even if these aren't HIS x men, he's missed this so bad. Later he will cry because he misses HIS x men but for now? Let him be not sober and forget about that.
"Alright santa. I think its time for bed." Wade says, still in his Mrs. Clause outfit, trying to tug Logans arm up.
"Aye! Get offa me! My husband will kill you!" He throws a fit and backs away, into kurt who's tail flickers and gives her a dirty look. Who does this woman think she is?? Trying to make his friend commit adultery???
Wade pauses, then giggles, realizing just how much makeup he had on right now. He's utterly estatic that Logan won't come with him. It's only really morph whos confused because that's obviously Wade. You would think the guy could smell his own husband right?? Yeahhh... not like this.
"Teehee and that right there is why it's bedtime, peanut." He says, hoping itll spark a few plugs but logan only does the Loading cat face, tilting his head. His face is red from the alchool and the santa make up.
"Don't call me that!" He whines.
Wade rolls his eyes, smiling. "Baby, come on. You're tired." He says in that special voice. The one that leads Logan down to earth when his anger is the only thing he can see when he forgets who he is, when he's having his PTSD attacks.
"... I am?"
"Yes. Now come on. Time for bed."
Kurt whispers not to be tempted by her in his ear, and it's back to square one. It takes Remy interfereing by telling Kurt that this "devil woman" IS Logan's husband and that it's okay.
The whole thing is a mess, and it has Rouge giggling her ass off, hugging her brother as his tail flickers still.
"Ooh!! You big buzz ball! Always lookin afta folks aint ya?" She tells him, squeezing him enough to make him wheeze. "Careful cher, Gambit thinks he wants his ribs attached."
"Nonsense! A lil roughhousin nevah killed nobody!!"
You just see him trying to take Wade to their room and Logan does the little slap at his arms and is like "I can walk by myself lady! Jeez!! ..... wheres my husband? Im gonna tell on you!!"
"I AM your husband." Wade says, finally taking off the wig and caressing his chop the way he usually does. Logan's eyes squint, his eyebrows burrowing together before dilating, and Wade can swear he heard his heart beat quicken.
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Laura gags.
"....'sup" he says, pulling him closer with a big idiotic grin.
Wade squeals, now trying to push him away. "Eww!! Never say that again!" He giggles. "You big lud! Bedtime!"
It's the absolute sweetest thing anyone ever witnessed, and it makes Jean happy too to know someone did infact take the big bad putty tat home. Finally-
This is how I want every teacher au Christmas fic to go you understand me? No sentinal drama. No worries. Maayyybbee Magneto if he behaves.
Just let this man be HAPPY for once.
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chunkpiboli · 6 days ago
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I did my Christmas wish list
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hyunjiisa · 9 days ago
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hey pretty boy ‧₊ .ᐟ
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skz ! members and what type of cute loner they’d be
incl. ot8 !
chan as the stoner! loner
shows up to school smelling like weed but no one cares because he does all his work and never causes trouble
you make eye contact with him for the first time in the parking lot while he’s smoking, he falls in love when you smile and wave
turns down everyone that hits on him after that
when he finally musters up the courage to talk to you all he can do is tap your shoulder in the same parking lot he first saw you and ask if you smoke
no matter your answer, he asks to get to know you better
“ come on , give me a chance ? ”
follows you around like a bodyguard after that
never ever lets you carry your own bag and always makes sure you have something to eat for lunch whether he has to pay for you or not
pretty smart in most subjects so you have study dates often because he just likes your presence
won’t smoke around you if you don’t like it
never posts anything besides you and aesthetic pictures he takes
isn’t the type to fight but he will if someone disrespects you, but they back off because of his size before it gets to that point
hyunjin as the artsy! loner
has one black pen and one red pen that he abuses every day
pays attention for the most part but occasionally gets distracted doodling in his notebooks
def has drawings all over his hands
the first time he noticed you was in art class and he thought you were so pretty he started drawing you
you glance over and he’s mortified when he realizes he probably looks like a creep
too nervous to go up to you and explain so he leaves you a note with little drawings all over (plus the drawing of you) and a replacement of the pink gel pen he notices you using all the time
gets super nervous when he sees you walking up to him the next day
you ask him to partner up for a project and thank him for the drawing
“ i couldn’t help it , you’re just so pretty . ”
ends up kissing you at your last project session
asks you out with the most thoughtful basket filled with things you like and a letter with another drawing of you and almost cries when you don’t answer right away
does everything for you after you get together
the art teacher is yalls biggest fan
has no one else to cling to so he’s all over you 24/7
gives nasty glares to men who simply look at you
felix as the fashion design! loner
like hyunjin, spends most of his time sketching out designs in his scrap book where he keeps all his miniature fabric samples in
sulks because there’s no fashion club for him to join
is initially drawn to you because of an outfit you wore that he loves
eventually asks where you got your top when you wear it again and his heartstrings pull at the way you answer so sweetly and compliment his hair
after that the two of you gradually got closer and closer
you help him learn to sew and he starts planning marriage then and there (he wants to help design your wedding dress)
sews matching patches on your backpacks
you catch him texting his best friend that lives abroad about you
gets so nervous he cries
you tell him you feel the same way and he cries even harder
“ be mine ? please ? ”
just gets even clingier once you end up together
loves kissing you and laying together while he sketches
takes you out whenever you want and spoils you rotten because he has rich parents
matching outfits = fire insta pics
jeongin as the sour patch! loner
never talks to anyone so everyone thinks he’s mean but he’s really an angel
your elective teacher makes your class do a secret santa and he gets you
he gives you oddly specific gifts (he has a massive crush on you and overhears you telling your friends your wishlist) and includes a note sweet talking you
you go up to him and thank him with a kiss on the cheek and he turns red
he asks you to hang out and pays for brunch and the cutest pottery painting date
“ will you go out with me ? n-not like that ! ”
gets the teacher to move you two to sit next to each other
everyone’s a little surprised when they see how he’s so gentle with you
decides he needs to get over himself and ask you out and gets you a pandora charm bracelet and a pretty bouquet of flowers
pampers you with your favorite snacks or meals randomly, refills of makeup you use, randomly does your homework for you
flips off ur exes and flexes on them when you aren’t looking then turns around to kiss you
is at your house 24/7 because he can’t breathe without you but is supportive when you go out with your friends or need a solo day
loves going to the beach with you and carrying you so your feet don’t get sandy
jisung as the nerdy! loner
has good grades and the teachers remember his name because his work is always on time
eats alone in the library because he has no one to sit with
you walk in on him while picking up a book you need and he’s super embarrassed (he’s had a crush on you since middle school)
you ask to sit with him because you think he’s cute and he trips over his words answering you
you spend lunch with him every day after that and he starts packing a lunch for you too
accidentally confesses he has a fat crush on you when you ask if he has a girlfriend
he starts rambling after and shuts up when he notices you’re giggling at him
you kiss him and he swears his lifelong dream has come true
“ i like , really like you . ”
is the sweetest boyfriend ever
does all your homework for you and insists it’s really no problem
drives you to and from school every day because “that’s what boyfriends are for”
never looks at anyone but you and writes down threats and shoves them in guys lockers when they hit on you
minho as the gym! loner
purposefully gets his free period after his weightlifting class so he can spend two periods working out
isn’t really shy, just doesn’t like anyone enough to have friends
girls check him out occasionally but he always ignores them
catches you freaking out when you have no clothes to change in and offers you his shirt because he thinks you’re cute
uses that as an excuse to mess with you
“ if i can bench you , you owe me a date ”
spoiler, he can.
makes sure to tell you you don’t really owe him anything and he’s just messing with you
you agree to the date and he picks you up and takes you on a surprisingly thoughtful date
drive around town, food and watching the sunset, takes your pictures next to pretty flowers and keeps his arm around you the whole time
asks you if you really have to go when he’s dropping you off
walks you to your door and gives you a hug (he’s never dated anyone and too scared to kiss you)
texts you that he had a really good time and he would “work to make you his”
it doesn’t take much work and he kisses you right after he asks you to be his
is way too proud of his build and wears sleeveless shirts just to scare anyone that looks at you
carries you around any chance he gets
seungmin as the music lover! loner
walks around with his headphones in 24/7
hums to himself quietly while he studies
you ask him about a song he was humming and he’s surprised you were talking to him
you think he hates you till he smiles at you when you walk into class
makes you a playlist to make his move on you
doesn’t know how to tell you he likes you at all so he just kinda teases you to flirt with you
takes you to a record store at lunch because he wanted to show you the spot
stares at you a little too hard so you ask him if he wants a kiss as a joke
says yes and moves your hair out of your face, you guys have a make out sesh and only stop when the owner clears his throat awkwardly at the both of you
“ so , if i ask you to be mine what are the chances of you saying yes ? ”
you make him go back inside alone and buy you the vinyl you want
he comes back out with it and 5 more that you didn’t wanna ask for but knows you wanted anyway
you skip the rest of the day and go to his house and use his record player
you fall asleep on him and he takes 0.5s of you
shares his headphones with you, but doesn’t share his food (until you make a sad face at him and he gives in instantly. works every time.)
changbin as the sweetheart! loner
all of his professors adore him, all the school staff does at this point
has the maximum hours of community service that he can have but won’t stop helping around where he can
notices you from the start because he thinks you’re pretty, but really starts liking you when he sees you volunteer at an elementary school
accidentally scares you coming up behind you when you’re hanging a banner
you guys start helping at the same places and make a tradition of hanging up banners together
after a while he figures he might as well just tell you how he feels, is elated when you hug him and tell him the feelings mutual
“ oh thank god . ”
confesses that he was actually really nervous and gets flustered when you tease him about it because he thinks you’re the prettiest
when you ask why he never hangs out with anyone he says he doesn’t like people with unpure hearts and that’s why he loves you so much
definitely takes you out and buys you guys matching stuff
married couple
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅
a/n: i’m not pushing any of these narratives onto them, it’s just dif scenarios i wanted to write them in
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gojonanami · 1 year ago
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[ last updated: 10/25/2024 ]
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‧ ˚. PROFESSOR GETO SERIES ↳ Professor Suguru Geto is a renown ethics professor, and you're a straight A student whose GPA he's trying to ruin. You're more intent on making him see your brilliance -- but you get more than you bargained for, when the two of you learn about what you owe to each other.
‧ ˚. PROFESSOR GOJO SERIES↳ Professor Satoru Gojo had never failed at anything -- until his latest research project. That's why he had found himself at a weeklong conference, where he discovers the perfect distraction -- you. And he can't help but be drawn to you - even after he finds out that you're the one person he's trying to avoid most
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‧ ˚. SATORU GOJO
seeing you tonight, its a bad idea right? | smut, fluff ↳ seeing your ex is always a bad idea, except when its satoru gojo.
bigger than the whole sky | angst, fluff, manga spoilers ↳ before his fight, you and satoru have an honest conversation about the future.
dessert before dinner | smut, fluff ↳ satoru can't wait to have you until you get back from the sister school event, so he plies you with sweet words until you agree to have dessert before dinner.
all's fair (in love and mergers) | long fic, smut, fluff, bffs to enemies to lovers ↳ you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend.
three's a crowd (ft. suguru geto) | long fic, au, smut, fluff ↳ professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you.
bloodsucker | smut, dark ↳ you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp?
got you | smut, dark ↳ satoru finally found you -- and he's not going to let you go this time.
is it over now | angst, fluff, smut ↳ suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave - for him and his best friend (ft. satoru gojo). "if you want, i can come inside?" | fluff, crack, domestic ↳ nobara spots gojo with a sorcerer she's never seen before and of course hijinks ensue (aka hearing gojo's english va (kaiji tang) say the above line in apothecary diaries and i lost my mind).
i wanna show you off | sugar daddy au, smut, fluff, slight angst ↳ when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich man, who is more than willing to spoil you
tastes sweeter on your lips | fluff ↳ on a rare day off, you decide to take care of the strongest sorcerer - with something very sweet.
the doctor is in | smut, fluff, au ↳ when you go to your annual check-up, you didn't think you'd be crushing on your doctor - or that he's conduct such an in-depth examination.
twenty-nine | fluff, angst, crack ↳ it's gojo's birthday, and he can't help but reflect on what birthdays have meant to him over the years, especially the year you decide you don't really want to do anything for his birthday (but it turns out you do).
sit in my lap | fluff, crack, domesticity ↳ you and satoru take your daughter to see santa at the mall, and satoru proves that he's just as much of a match for his daughter, as he is for you.
just a little longer | fluff, angst ↳ after geto defects, you find yourself on a roof of a building wondering where things went wrong - and you're not the only one.
sweet nothing | fluff, angst ↳ satoru always comes running home to your sweet nothings -- except this time.
lower your guard | fluff, smut, au, longfic ↳ after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances. don't want any other shade of blue but you | fluff, smut, fake dating, longfic ↳ you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor. love means to say goodbye | multi-lives au, fluff, smut, angst, jjk manga spoilers ↳ "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love? yakuza fiance (ft. suguru geto) | smut, yakuza au, fluff, threesome ↳ you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.
a house is not a home | canon au, fluff, suggestive ↳ you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom (househusband gojo).
just wanna fuck with you, just to make up with you! | smut, modern au, fluff ↳ satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you - he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you divorced him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date?
rumor has it that my best friend loves you (and i do too!) | smut, actor au, fluff ↳ rumors swirl about a love triangle between you and your two heart throb co-stars on the set of jujutsu kaisen. except in this case, you and your two co-stars are happily dating. but what happens when you get casted in a movie where they want you to have a PR relationship with your co-star? especially when your bfs find out who it is
break my soul in two (but you're right here) | angst, manga spoilers ↳ satoru showed no concern for himself -- so you had to, even if no one else would.
beat the heat | smut, fluff ↳ it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.
feral for you | fluff, smut, angst ↳ satoru gojo rarely loses his cool. except when it comes to you. so when you get taken, he takes matters into his own hands to find out who did it and make them pay.
yours to keep | childhood friends au, fluff, eventual smut, angst ↳ satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and when he sees you again, he knows — he has to make you his.
the honored one | smut, manga spoilers, canon-divergent au ↳ it's your duty as the wife of the clan head to help your husband get dressed -- even for battle. but that didn't mean he couldn't spend some time undressing you.
‧ ˚. SUGURU GETO
meant to be | smut, dark ↳ when Suguru defects, he asks you to come with him -- but he's not going to take no for an answer.
three's a crowd (ft. satoru gojo) | long fic, au, smut, fluff ↳ professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you.
is it over now (ft. satoru gojo) | angst, fluff, smut ↳ suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend
might hurt | fluff, crack ↳ suguru's popularity is truly a curse, especially when he gets hit on right in front of you. luckily, you both know how to handle those situations.
i just want to fuck all night | smut, fluff, sex pollen ↳ after swallowing a curse, geto finds his body in an uncontrollable state of arousal, and who better help him cure it than you?
would it be enough if i could never give you peace? | fluff, angst, smut ↳ suguru's birthday spent with you is like a dream -- the perfect day spent in bliss, but what happens when the dream has to come to an end?
yakuza fiance (ft. satoru gojo) | smut, yakuza au, fluff, threesome ↳ you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.
‧ ˚. KENTO NANAMI
no regrets | hurt/comfort, fluff, angst ↳ when nanami is injured from his fight with mahito, you're sent to pick him up. and both of your careful avoidance of your feelings for each other comes crumbling down.
armed and dangerous | smut ↳ nanami's arms were always so nice around your throat, but you never tried having his arm between your legs before, until.
good girls get backshots | smut ↳ nanami has always been a gentleman, but he finally decides to play rough and mark you up -- at your request.
five times nanami wanted to propose but didn't | angst, fluff, smut ↳ nanami wanted to propose to you so many times - but it was never the right time, and then, there was no time left.
best part of my day | fluff, domesticity ↳ on a bad day, you give nanami just what he needs, and remind him why you are truly the best part of his day.
all the time in the world | fluff, hurt/comfort ↳ after shibuya, nanami lets you tend to his burns and have an honest discussion about what happened there and what it means for your future. but i'm a fire (and i'll keep your brittle heart warm) | fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, au ↳ throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.
‧ ˚. YUTA OKKOTSU
↳ coming soon :)
‧ ˚. CHOSO KAMO
it's a need | hurt/comfort, smut, fluff ↳ after you take an attack meant for him, choso can't seem to understand why -- so you show him just how important he is to you.
hey emo boy! | fluff, smut, au ↳ saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic?
best friend's brother is the one for me! | fluff, au, smut, bedsharing ↳ you've been asked whether you and yuji are together a million times - but the truth is his brother is more your type -- so what happens when you end up sharing a bed one night?
just one more bite! | fluff, modern au, smut, vampire au ↳ choso kamo is your coworker who seems to hate your guts - even though you're both always stuck working together, but the only reason he does is because he wants nothing more than to eat you up -- blood and all.
‧ ˚. RYOMEN SUKUNA
paint the town red | smut, dark, au ↳ you've always been a goody two shoes -- or so your friends say -- so what happens when you decide to do the first bad thing you've ever attempted and try summoning a demon -- and it actually works?
the girl next door | smut, age gap, modern au ↳ you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.
‧ ˚. YUJI ITADORI
don't want you like a best friend! | best friends to lovers, fluff, fwb, smut, au ↳ yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.
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jealousy, jealousy | smut
which of the men whimper | smut
spooning the dilfs | fluff
jjk men and if they're good at singing | crack
all tied up | smut
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househusband suguru
househusband nanami househusband gojo (1) (2) (3)
mindreader nanami
geto swallowing a aphrodisiac curse
gojo - maybe in another life
guitarist! suguru x opera singer! reader (1) (2) (3)
frat boy! suguru x nerd! reader (1) (2) (3)
curse! suguru (1) (2) (3) bringing suguru back to life
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harryspet · 11 months ago
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bambi eyes (the holiday special) r.cameron
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[Warnings]soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, NONCON, dd/lg, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, heavy on the somnophilia, ittle editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
word count: 1.6k
In which it's your first Christmas Eve with your Daddy, you don't know what you want but Rafe surely does.
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bambi eyes masterlist
You could think of three things that you wanted for Christmas. Colored pencils, glitter lipgloss, and a small stuffed animal for Bunny. You don’t need any more clothes. You’d been with Rafe for over a month, and there were still clothes in your wardrobe that you had not worn yet. Your room was heaven, with the softest sheets and pillows, and Rafe bought you even more playthings each week. 
Your last gift was a diamond bracelet Rafe gave you because of how well you behaved in front of his friend, Barry. He didn’t punish you for sneaking around downstairs. All you had to do was bring him a slice of cake and sit down on Rafe’s lap while the two of them talked about “getting rid of their problem.” 
There were several trees around the house, but the biggest one was in the living room, by the fireplace, and it was at least two times your height. There were at least twenty presents underneath the tree already, wrapped neatly in paper that was decorated with pink snowflakes. In cozy reindeer pajamas, ones Rafe had also purchased, you sat near the tree checking over your letter to Santa. Although you had a feeling Rafe might secretly be Santa, you let a small part of you believe it was real magic. 
Lana helped you write the letter, and now you were adding a few drawings and stickers to really jazz it up. It took you longer to write it than Rafe preferred, it was already Christmas Eve, but if Santa could somehow bring you exactly what you wanted tomorrow, you’d really believe in him. 
“You almost finished, baby?” 
You looked up to see Rafe entering the living room, most likely finished with his work day, “I couldn’t think of anything else to ask for,” You said quietly, remembering how much Rafe encouraged you to ask for absolutely anything. The truth was you never had anything so you didn’t know what to ask for, “I don’t think I need anything else. But I wrote a nice letter for Santa and I thanked him for everything he does. And I made it sparkly.”
Rafe made himself comfortable on the couch and you brought over your letter, “C’mere,” He said, pulling your legs over his lap before wrapping one arm around you, “This is beautiful work, kid. Santa is going to love it.”
You looked up at him, a smile on his face as he read the words over, “What did you ask Santa for, Daddy?”
“Well, since I already have you,” He squeezed you, making your heart leap in your chest, “I asked Santa to make sure that you have the best Christmas. That you’ll love every gift you get and we’ll have a nice, Christmas dinner.”
You smiled back at him, “I wish I could buy you something, Daddy.”
“No need,” Rafe leaned in to kiss the side of your forehead, “I like giving to you, and I have plenty of money for the both of us. Besides, you’re way too little.” 
When Rafe looked at you, he really looked at you. He held your face in his hands, not tight enough to bruise, so you wouldn’t look away. You were still learning not to feel shy under his gaze. You started to understand that you were just like the gifts sitting under the tree. You were Rafe’s gift to himself. He showed his possession of you through his gaze. 
“Your bows are a nice touch,” He complimented, taking notice of the red ribbons tied around your pigtails. Every morning you spent time doing your hair, and you were slowly learning how to do your makeup. When he noticed your efforts, you felt you were fulfilling your purpose, “And I already knew you’d look cute in your pajamas.”
Rafe liked it when you presented yourself a certain way. He liked things to be dainty and soft. He preferred small jewelry over statement pieces. Pastel colors over bright ones. And you should never have on too much makeup. Lipgloss was better than lipstick and concealer over foundation. He wanted you muted but pretty, just like your personality. 
“Thank you,” You batted your lashes. 
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Rafe and you continued your cozy evening in the living room. You’d made it through the first two Home Alone movies and were now in the middle of watching The Polar Express. Rafe excused himself to the kitchen for a moment, taking the chance to prepare some hot cocoa for the two of you. 
When Rafe returned to the couch, you were sound asleep, your arms wrapped around Bunny. Quietly, he set down the cups of cocoa on the coffee table, and the thought of waking you up crossed his mind. After all, your drink would get cold, but you seemed like you were resting deeply. 
Gently, Rafe laid down next to you. You didn’t wake; you moaned softly as you turned your head, nuzzling your face into Rafe’s neck. Rafe stayed with you like this, having found a new love in sleeping next to you. He never really enjoyed next to sleeping next to anyone, until you, and he began to designate certain nights of the week where you’d stay with him in his bed. 
Watching you sleep made him think back to when he first brought you home. You still looked as innocent as ever, but there was something else Rafe liked about watching you sleep – he loved seeing you vulnerable. Obviously, you were in a constant state of being vulnerable to Rafe’s every whim and want, but this was different. 
He tested just how deeply you were sleeping, slowly taking the doll from your grasp When you stirred only slightly, Rafe continued, first touching you above your pajamas. Large, ringed fingers felt over your chest. He massaged them, kneading them, and you reacted by pressing yourself closer to him. 
Lips parted, and holding in heavy breathing, Rafe continued his exploration. He was growing harder in his briefs, imagining the look on your face when you fully opened your eyes. He licked one of his fingers and reached into your pajama bottoms and then into your panties. This was exactly why he never wanted you to wear panties to bed; they only got in his way. 
He stroked fingers up and down, feeling between your folds. Feeling the moisture there, he wondered what exactly you’d been dreaming about, “Rafe,” He heard you whisper, although when he looked down at you, your eyes were still closed. Although the stimulation was waking you, Rafe knew you were too tired to fully realize what he was doing. 
Rafe shushed you, still playing between your legs, “Is bed … time?” You mumbled as Rafe pulled his hands from your underwear, bringing his fingers to his lips. 
“Yes, sweet girl,” Rafe whispered, “Keep relaxing, Daddy’s got you.”
Rafe pulled his body from yours, moving off the couch before he gently started to pull down your reindeer bottoms.  Carefully, he removed them from around your ankles before slowly lowering himself down on top of you, “Cold … please,” You mumbled, “Daddyyy.”
“I’ve got you,” Rafe said in response to your whining; as he settled on top of you, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in like your dolly or a pillow. Meanwhile, Rafe was trying as carefully as he could to free himself from his briefs. He didn’t have to touch himself at all, he was already aching for you.
He didn’t resist anymore, pushing your underwear to the side and then pushing inside of you, his sweet girl. You were tighter, somehow, causing Rafe’s eyes to roll in pleasure, “Rafe,” He heard you, knowing you in a daze. Currently, he felt quite dazed himself. He knew with his size that he’d wake you but he didn’t account for the fact that your body might try to resist, to push him out. It just motivated him to push deeper, “Rafe. Rafe.”
Your voice was sharper now, scared almost, “You’re okay,” He cooed, “You’re …so so good, sweet girl.”
You loosened your grasp on him, and Rafe took the opportunity to see your face. You were adorable in those red bows, he noticed them first, but then he saw your scrunched-up features, a cute wince on your face. It would feel good soon, he knew that, but he certainly enjoyed seeing you resist. 
“What a fussy little girl, huh?” Rafe thrusted slowly, “Acting like you don’t like Daddy’s cock.”
With each thrust, you were trying to gain your composure, but Rafe was relentless. 
One hand, beside your head, he pressed into the couch to hold himself up, and the other, he reached down to play with your clit, “Cum one time for me,” Rafe commanded, although it was the last thing you wanted. He would give it to you anyway, wanting to see it in your face when your own body betrayed you, “One time, and you can go back to sleep.”
Rafe’s thrust was slow but consistently deep. He switched back and forth from focusing on your pleasure and his. It was difficult for him, he could finish so easily with you, but he held out; Rafe knew when you were getting closer just by the look on your face. Your head tilted back as your orgasm spread through you, and Rafe was quickly behind you. 
Rafe caught his breath, still inside of you, and moved his chest closer to yours, “You okay? You did good, Bambi.”
You nodded calmly, “Did I …Did I miss the whole movie?”
Rafe stared, bewildered for a moment, “Uh … no. We can just rewind it, baby,” He grinned, pecking your lips, “And I can just heat up the hot chocolate again.” 
Your eyes widened, “Hot chocolate like in the movie?”
“Just like the movie, my love,” Rafe’s forehead pressed to yours.
He was grateful for the fact that he could give you the perfect first Christmas tomorrow. He was even more grateful for how perfect you were.
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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!
2K notes · View notes
seiwas · 4 months ago
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three-part honesty | todoroki shouto
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wc: 16.3k
summary: honesty, you've realized, is shouto’s most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 
contains: intended as f!reader but no pronouns used, reader wears heels, a skirt, & a dress, post-canon (divergent), aged-up pro-hero!shouto and assistant!reader, workplace romance, development of feelings, confessions, boss/assistant dynamics, co-workers to lovers (ish), todoroki family dynamics and healing, fluff, slow burn.  
sequel to: two-part something ao3 mirror
a/n: primarily from shouto’s perspective but switching of character pov’s is denoted by ‘( )’. i enjoyed the entire process of writing this fic and hope you do too! 
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sponsored by @arcvenes for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please do check it out and support if you can! this is also my submission for the pretty boy summer collab by @andypantsx3.
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I. LISTEN CLOSELY
Much to his relief, Shouto’s yearly health check-up turns out just fine. 
His blood work results come back stellar, levels all floating within normal range; some x-rays and scans reveal injuries healing up nicely—that collarbone he’d fractured months ago, especially. Save for a few recommendations on better sleep and stress management, Shouto receives no additional diagnoses for anything particularly concerning. 
Except for this one thing—
“Maybe you have a crush.” Natsuo sinks into the backrest of his chair. A slight ‘squeak’ sounds from its springs as he props one foot up on his knee and clasps his hands over his stomach. 
Shouto thinks it must be some doctor pose; Natsuo’s been doing it more often now that he’s gotten deeper into his medical practice. 
In Shouto’s final year at UA, Natsuo made the decision to fully shift into Pre-Med. The aftermath of the war left a big portion of Musutafu lost and in dire need of a society to believe in. To Natsuo, this felt like a calling; an effort of playing his part to restore faith in a better, functioning system that did not discriminate. Internal medicine felt expansive in that way.
This, of course, also meant that Natsuo was now the (unofficial) assigned private and personal doctor of the Todoroki family—to Shouto, mostly. 
So—
A… Crush?
“How does that happen?” Shouto turns to his brother, head tilted in confusion. His brows furrow slightly. 
This isn’t what he was expecting at all. 
“I mean, you said it in your text,” Natsuo reaches for his phone, clicking it open to scroll. The light from his screen reflects on the gray of his irises; then, he air quotes, “you said: ‘my chest feels weird’, then when I asked if anything happened,” his index finger glides across the screen, swiping through a long block of text uncharacteristic of Shouto’s typical dry responses.
“You detailed the entire scene of–” he pauses for a moment, squinting to find a specific line, “–a santa hat? Being put on you, or something. You didn’t mention who but I figured it was—” 
You, Shouto thinks, at the moment Natsuo says your name. That same two-part thump sounds in his ears. 
You, who’s stayed by his side for the past five, nearly six years. You’ve carved your presence so deeply into his life, it’s become an undercurrent in his speech. He doesn’t even think of having to say your name when he talks about you. 
You, and how he turns over this familiarity with you inside his brain. How everyone knows—
“—who else stays with you in the agency past office hours, anyway?” 
Natsuo raises an eyebrow, knowing. 
“We’ve been working together for a while.” Shouto replies, lips pressed firmly into a small pout. 
If he’s being honest, he’s not sure what compelled him to say something Natsuo already knows. To state the obvious? Or to argue, maybe? To act in denial? To express disbelief? 
He takes a long breath, surveying Natsuo’s clinic. The walls are pristine white, the desk and examination bed the same shade of ashen gray—a conscious choice to keep patients calm; ironic, given the state of his thoughts right now. 
Shouto’s mind is buzzing, and Natsuo watches the muddled confusion in his little brother’s eyes shift and swirl in blue-gray emotion. Then he chuckles, holding onto his arm rests as he stands up from the other side of his desk. 
“It can happen, Shouto.” he plants a palm on his little brother’s head, ruffling red and white the way he would have when they were teens, “It’s been years, right? Feelings can develop over time, that sorta thing, you know?” 
Shouto lets the realization settle in. 
Under the weight of his brother’s hand, he feels like a kid again—right before all the training started; and right before being kept away, excluded from the childhood he could have had with his siblings. 
Shouto feels like a teen again, without the trauma, without the war, being taught things about life and himself, about feelings he never had the time nor capacity to explore.
The two-part thump continues, beating. 
A crush. On you. Huh. 
The rustling of his hair dusts strands of warm, fuzzy feelings over his eyelids. 
This feels… new, he thinks. 
.
.
.
Shouto knows his Mondays. 
He gets to Shouto Agency an hour before everyone else does because he likes the stillness of it right before the day turns busy. The sun is up but only barely, casting a soft glow of blue and orange hues through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. 
This habit began years ago, back when the agency functioned on the 7th floor of a commercial building. It was called Flashfreeze then, and even though it had an entire floor of 24 office units, being in a commercial building still meant sharing common areas with other companies and agencies. The morning rush left the elevators flooded in utter chaos daily. 
To Shouto, going in early meant less people and less noise—a quiet bube he could use to prepare himself for the rest of the day.  
A lot has changed since then: the agency’s move into a larger, newly constructed building of its own; staff, interns, and sidekicks quadrupling in numbers; better office spaces, bigger teams, more facilities—a big expansion, essentially. 
Somehow, despite being more settled in the industry, he finds that the days feel even busier than before. 
So, Shouto keeps his Mondays the same: his preference of coming in early carrying itself into this newer, much larger and private office space, and his same habit of brewing himself a cup of tea finding its own spot by the small kitchen nook you helped design during the construction of his office space. 
Everything about his office is optimized for efficiency: the backdoor, where he enters from on most days, opens to an elevator with a matching staircase that both lead straight down to the costume unit, training grounds, and his own parking area; the blinds of his windows automatically draw up and down at set times of the day; and the minimalism of his entire space is carefully considered, with every area plotted for easy navigation. 
It’s sleek and neat, sharp edges and clean lines, straightforward much like he is. Cold, for the most part, save for the corners touched by your warmth.
Pale yellow jars sit on the counter of his kitchen nook, with each one housing sugar, cinnamon, and his stash of tea.  
When he looks more closely around the room, he spots the fresh flowers on his desk—a vase of luscious white chrysanthemums starkly contrasting the dark grays and browns of his interiors; they tell him you must be in already, because even when he manages to come in an hour ahead, you always, without fail, beat him to it 30 minutes too early. 
And also, like always, you enter his office in the same way you do every Monday morning. 
Your heels clack against his stone flooring, marking your arrival. He turns to face you from the kitchen nook, cup of tea in hand as he greets you. 
“Good morning.” 
You jolt, nearly tripping. Your head whips up quickly as you clutch a mass of folders tightly to your chest. 
He takes a sip of his tea, the corners of his lips curling slightly on the edge of his cup. 
“Si–” you clear your throat, correcting yourself as you take a breath. Then you smile warmly, bowing your head slightly, “Shouto, good morning.” 
“You scared me a bit there,” you add with a soft chuckle. 
It’s endearing, he thinks, seeing you caught off guard, so out of your usual composure.
You loosen your grip on the folders, “I just came to place this on your desk,” your finger taps against the plastic, “I didn’t notice you were here already, sorry.” 
“No worries,” he sets down his tea cup, pocketing one hand in his sweatpants, “do you want some tea?” 
“I’m good, thank you,” you shake your head, walking towards his desk to set the folders down, “Just a couple of debriefs for the case last month.” 
He nods, eyes tracking your movement around the room. You pause then turn to him, clicking your pen as you say, “Let me get your schedule so we can do the run-down.” 
Shouto moves to his desk when you leave, settling into the few squeaks and cracks of the leather chair you helped restore using your quirk—the ability to minimally reconstruct organic matter. 
Not even a few minutes pass until you return, a tablet perched on the crook of your elbow with a digital pen in hand. 
This is part of his Monday routine. 
The agenda you follow is the same: a schedule run-down for the coming week, any notable trips or events, report updates, and department updates. Occasionally, PR will have you relay messages they have trouble communicating nicely—most of the time, they involve suggestions for him to ‘smile more’ or ‘answer questions more enthusiastically’. 
You have no problem telling him these things straight up, and he has no issue hearing it directly from you, either. 
For this week, you detail a few meetings scheduled for tomorrow and Wednesday, along with updates on his costume revisions, to be fitted on Wednesday afternoon, and—
“Deku requested a joint patrol on Thursday morning, so I moved your fitting for the gala to that evening instead. Is that okay with you?” you look up from your tablet, the tip of your pen hovering over the screen. 
In this light, you’re bathed in the colors of sunrise. 
(From where you’re standing, Shouto is backlit by the rising sun. His figure is washed over by a faded shadow, but you can see his eyes clearly, bright turquoise and dark gray staring right at you.
You hold your breath; you are well aware of Shouto’s tendencies to stare, but he’s taking much longer to answer you this time. And you don’t know what to do, where to look. Do you wait until—)
Shouto nods, catching himself lingering. 
You mumble an ‘okay’ before tapping on your tablet. 
The rest of your reminders are about upcoming events and deadlines: there’s the company team building happening in a few weeks, and a few reports due today and tomorrow. Fuyumi moved the family lunch to Saturday to make way for his photoshoot on Sunday. 
He watches you from his desk as you speak, your foot tapping in conjunction with each item you relay to him, as if marking every point. It’s a thing you do, something he’s noticed in the years you’ve worked together. 
Shouto knows his Mondays, and he’s always been relaxed during these earlier parts of it. 
But ever since that check-up with Natsuo, he’s been more… conscious about it lately. It seems to be a consistent trend that every time he’s around you, he feels a significant uptick in his heartbeat. 
Except now, when you speak—
“Will you be bringing a plus-one to the gala this year? The committee is confirming how many seats they’ll reserve for you.” 
—his heart feels like it drops, plummeting straight to his stomach. 
He looks at you intently, a slight crease forming between his brows. 
You go to most of these things with him; you always have, ever since. 
So, why are you even asking? 
He thinks about it, deciding what to say next. The thought of you not going with him feels weird. Unusual. 
If you’re unavailable, he supposes he can just go alone. 
But—
“What should I do then?” Shouto shifts in his seat, peering up at his brother. 
Natsuo’s instinctive reaction is to laugh; after all, it’s not often that you see pro-hero Shouto at a loss on troubleshooting. But when he spots pure and genuine uncertainty swirling in heterochromatic gray and blue, he sees his little brother—Shouto at ages 4, 8, and 12, still a little helpless on what to do.
“Do you want to do something about it?” Natsuo asks gently, squeezing Shouto’s shoulders. 
Shouto doesn’t say anything. 
The lack of response tells him all he needs to know. 
“Maybe figure that out first, then just be honest about it when the time comes. Nothing beats saying it plain and simple.” 
—‘just be honest about it’ echoes in his head, Natsuo’s voice morphing into his own.
“Will you not be available?” he manages to ask flatly, masking his worry. 
(You look up from your tablet and his eyes meet yours, an intensity in his gaze that’s only been directed at you a handful of times before.) 
“Oh,” you fluster a little, shifting your weight, “I will be, but I just thought…”
He can hear you hesitate, voice trailing off as if contemplating your next words. His head dips to coax you to go on. 
“...I just thought, maybe you’d want to bring someone from your family?” you give a small smile, half-genuine, half-uncertain. 
You know Shouto’s family; know their stories and know what each of them are like, individually. 
You know how far they’ve come into healing, seeing Touya through multiple cycles of rehab and relapse. You’ve witnessed his mother’s strength first-hand, watching her rebuild their family with the help of Fuyumi. On the weekends when work wouldn’t let up for Shouto, she’d welcome you to join in family lunches too. 
There were days during Natsuo’s medical internship when he’d go to the office at midnight because the hospital was nearby. It was the only free time he and Shouto had at the time, but Natsuo would ask you to join in, the three of you slurping on cup noodles while Natsuo prattled on about the absurdity of some of his coworkers. 
So, Shouto can fully understand your intentions. After all, he thinks you’ve been instrumental to his family’s healing, too. 
But he has his reasons for never bringing Fuyumi—she usually has school the next day, if not volunteer work at an orphanage. Natsuo has gotten increasingly busier with his practice, and Touya—Touya is still in rehab, and though he’s allowed at home three times a week, Shouto’s sure he’d rather spend it doing things other than being in a room full of pro-heroes. 
“It might be nice to bring your mom,” you add on.
And as for that—
“The gala is this Friday?” he leans forward, the tips of his bangs brushing his eyelids. 
You nod.
“She and Touya are going to the gardens,” he recalls, his mother casually mentioning it the last time he visited. 
You look pleasantly surprised, “Oh,” then your small smile returns, “that’s good to hear.” 
(It must mean a lot to Rei, you think. She’s always wanted to make up for lost time.) 
You don’t say anything else, silence filling the conversation as you hold his gaze.
It isn’t uncommon for Shouto to hold stare-offs, with you especially, but this might just be the first time he feels fully conscious about it—wondering what you’re thinking; if you can read his mind and tell what he’s thinking. 
“Do you not want to join me?” he asks, a small pout forming on his face. 
(The softness of his cheeks sink just a little bit, and his eyes lose some of the luster they typically carry in the morning. 
He looks so sad, you wish you just said yes in the first place. 
How do you even respond to this?) 
“No, n-no–” you stutter, inching forward subconsciously, “–it’s nothing like that.” 
You check your tablet, swiping through your calendar. He can see portions of it from where he’s sitting, your Friday definitely freed up and empty. 
He pushes himself up, standing to full-height. His hands dig into the pockets of his sweatpants as he tilts his head to the side. 
“What seems to be the problem then?” 
(In your years of knowing Shouto, you’ve learned that he never intends to sound harsh even though his words may seem like it. But even though you’re aware that he only means to be curious, you still feel a little embarrassed admitting that you didn’t anticipate the possibility of going to the gala with him this Friday. 
You’ve always been prepared; it’s in your job description to be like this. You should have had a back-up dress just in case. You shouldn’t have shown Shouto your hesitation in the first place.
So, you breathe out, voice level and calm. This is your problem to fix, you don’t have to let him know about it. You’ll find a way, like you always do.) 
“There’s no problem. I’ll add my name to the list then.”
Then you smile, but it’s just a touch uneasy, and if there’s one thing you underestimate about Shouto—for just as much as you know him, he’s gotten to know you pretty well too. 
He pauses. The last thing he would want is for you to feel forced to go.
“If you have other plans, I hope you don’t feel obligated to go. I can go alone.”
His brows furrow, crease deepening and heart still sinking. 
(And you can see it, that little pout on his face staying right where it is. 
You’re endeared, touched by his consideration.
“I don’t have other plans,” you grin, brighter and more at ease, “and I don’t feel forced to go either,” you sigh, hiding a small chuckle. 
A pause. 
You mull it over before deciding to admit why you were hesitant in the first place, “I thought you were going to bring your mom, so I wasn’t able to prepare a dress.”)
Shouto’s eyes widen slightly, mouth opening to express his apologies. 
“But–!” you interrupt, “That’s my fault,” you raise your hand, swaying it side-to-side. “So please don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” 
The smile on your face is meant to reassure him, he knows, but he still feels guilty. 
This Friday’s gala is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards; it’s grand because it’s important, and the dress code is always black-tie—everything typically made custom. 
He tilts his head slightly, thinking, eyes zeroing in on the small calendar propped up on his desk.
“My suit is being made by Bakugo’s parents, correct?” 
You nod, reiterating, “Your final fitting is on Thursday night.”
His gaze flits to you once again. 
(There’s that look in his eyes you’ve become all too familiar with—a glint of mischief accompanying a sort-of ‘Eureka!’ moment that means he’s thought of something.
The pieces click together, realization dawning upon you, but when you open your mouth to refuse—)
“I can ask them to do yours as well.” Shouto beats you to it. 
It wouldn’t be fair for you to scramble for your outfit last minute simply because he assumed you knew you were going. You shouldn’t be more stressed than you already are. 
“Si– Shouto,” you say firmly, “That’s too much.” 
“I’m sure they won’t mind,” he flashes you a small smile. 
(And you hate to admit it, but he’s right.
The Bakugo’s have known you for as long as you’ve been Shouto’s assistant. They’ve consistently designed his suits for big events like the Pro-Hero Awards, and Mitsuki has always extended their services to you too, knowing full well that you are Shouto’s plus-one most of the time. 
She likes to chat with you during suit pick-ups, with Masaru serving you a cup of tea as you wait for minor tweaks and adjustments to Shouto’s outfits. 
“It would be too last minute,” you resist, feeling bad for the hassle this would impose on them.
“Then I can call them later today.” Shouto reaches for his phone, eagerly typing what you assume is a reminder to call Mitsuki some time later, just as he said he would. 
“You–” your voice hesitates, “you don’t have to do that. I can contact their secretary–”
This is part of your job, after all. 
“It will be much faster if I call them directly.” 
And while he does have a point, you still feel bad, inching closer towards his desk, “It’s okay, you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with this–” 
He gives you a look. 
You stop moving. 
Shouto is stubborn, this much you know. When he looks like this, you’re well aware that there’s no point dissuading him from doing something he’s already set his mind to.)
“It’s only right given that I told you last minute.” 
He tells this to you sincerely; it really is the least he can do. 
Besides—
“…be honest…” the words replay in his head.
—he swallows his truth; lets it sink deep into stomach along with that two-part thump in his chest. 
“I only feel comfortable going to these with you, anyway.” 
(Your mind blanks, coming up with nothing else to say but ‘okay’.) 
.
.
.
Cameras flash as Shouto steps down from his van. 
The building ahead of him is colossal, tall pillars and perfect arches made of raw stone and marble—it feels both ancient and otherworldly, fitting to represent Musutafu in this new age. Ahead of him, the staircase stretches on, steps spanning the width of half a block. Down its center cascades a luscious carpet, thick velvet that further lends to the grandeur of the event. 
Standing at the foot of the staircase, Shouto takes a moment to unbutton his suit jacket, revealing his perfectly fitted waistcoat underneath. 
(You know he isn’t doing it on purpose; it’s hardly ever Shouto’s intention to make people swoon, but you’re positive that that one move alone can make anyone melt on sight—you included.) 
Tonight is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards, a prestigious event where hero rankings, major announcements, and charity biddings take place. 
(It’s not anything new to the both of you, but Shouto skipped out on the past two, and it’s been years since you joined him on the last one he went to. Being here again after so long makes you feel a little out of practice.
After he scales the flight of stairs ahead, Shouto turns back to you, offering his arm for support as you step down from the vehicle. You hesitate, partly because you don’t know whether it’s acceptable behavior for you to take it, and also because you don’t remember if this was something you did the last time you went to one of these with him.
You can’t think straight—not when he looks as seraphic as he does, face half-illuminated by the lights behind him with the shadows hugging the softness of his cheeks. 
Shouto is beautiful, a fact you’ve known long before you ever even started working with him; but you’re reminded of that fact in moments like this, especially. 
“The steps are tall,” he tells you, shaking you out of your thoughts as you glance back at the staircase behind him. You try not to stare, but the strands that frame his forehead shift from his sudden movement; it scatters into a perfect mess—characteristic of how anything out of place always seems to look on him.
You take his offer.)
His forearm is firm against your palm, the thick fabric of his suit jacket providing cushion for your touch. When he bends it towards his chest, your fingers slip towards the crook of his elbow. 
Scarlet red contrasts the building’s stone white structures, the carpet providing a center stage for all heroes and public figures to parade their outfits. If not for the photographers yelling, “Shouto, right!” and “Shouto, left!”, he would have gone straight inside, barely pausing on the landings between each flight of stairs. 
You stand to the side when he takes them, just as you always do. But between each flash that goes off, Shouto thinks about whether you should join him too; after all, Mitsuki did intend for the dark navy of your dress to match the stone gray of his three-piece suit. 
When you finally arrive at the lobby of the city hall, the two of you are welcomed into a receiving area adorned with crystal chandeliers. The lights bounce off the sharp white edges of the building’s neoclassical interiors, the carpet’s scarlet red returning as a recurring motif in the form of drapes cascading from the high ceilings and down the sides of the room.
By this time, Shouto’s relaxed a bit more, his hand slipping loosely into his front pocket. 
(You don’t realize you’re still holding onto him until you’re midway across the floor.) 
“Hey, you guys!” Kirishima waves over, squeezing himself within a narrow space between the backs of who look like one of the executives of the hero commission and last year’s awarded peace ambassador. 
(You don’t know how he could have possibly fit, the width of him wider than any pro-hero you know, but you chuckle at his timid mumbles of “sorry, excuse me, just passing through.” It reminds you of how he typically approaches you when he asks for favors regarding joint patrols and assignments with Shouto.
He greets you both with his trademark hug, a bone-crushing grip that leaves you a little winded.) 
“I didn’t know the two of you were coming!” 
“It was a last minute decision,” Shouto smiles, small and fond. 
(You look at Shouto intently from beside Kirishima, as if processing what he means. And when his eyes meet yours, you feel caught, shy, averting your gaze quickly.)
Kirishima clears his throat, no doubt noticing the interaction but choosing to focus on something else instead—Shouto’s outfit, a dark navy tie tucked underneath a fitted gray waistcoat; the white collar of his button down peeking through the all stone-gray ensemble. His hair is styled down, bangs curled inwards to form commas that frame his forehead.  
“Looking good, man.” the red head deflects, joining his index finger and thumb to form an ‘O-K’ sign as he nods at Shouto. Then he turns to you, the same genuine smile on his face as he says, “That color really suits you.” 
You smile sheepishly, mumbling, “Thanks.” 
(Kirishima is a sweetheart; you can never doubt that his intentions are pure. But the attention makes you feel a little self-conscious, even more now that—) 
Shouto looks at you then, again, too.
It’s the only time he’s managed to get a real good look at you if he’s being honest; from the incident in the car to the flashing lights up the staircase, there haven’t been many opportunities to fully see what you’re wearing. 
And—
Kirishima’s right. 
The color really does suit you, but so does the design of your dress—a simple cowl neck joining into halter straps; it dips low at the back, this detail of it, he knows. He’s been careful not to touch you there the entire time so far. It doesn’t help that your hair is tied into a low bun, accentuating the vacant space with how the dress hugs you beautifully in all the right places. 
The dark navy satin was a good choice, the perfect vessel for catching ripples of light. 
It’s simple but classic; understated, just like the accessories you’ve chosen are. And it brings out the one thing he thinks carries this look the most—
You. 
He tries to form the words in his head, urging himself to speak up—he wants to give you a compliment of his own. 
But—
“Bakubro!” Kirishima waves overhead, much like he did earlier. 
—maybe he can try again next time. 
You and Kirishima don’t stay long after Bakugo arrives, Ashido coming in to whisk you and the redhead away to the main room. She loops her arm around yours and pulls you towards her, prompting you to give one last glance at Shouto as an expression of your apologies. 
The corner of his lips curl only the slightest bit. 
Bakugo watches. 
“Don’t forget the drinks, Blasty!” Ashido calls over her shoulder, green silk flowing behind her. 
He tuts, grumbling as he heads towards the reception bar, leaving Shouto in the middle of the receiving area, unsure of where to follow. 
“Y’coming or what?” 
Shouto lingers for a few seconds, watching your back disappear into the hall before he decides to walk after Bakugo.  
The lobby begins to quiet down as people flood into the main event area, a large hall adorned with the same scarlet red drapes and crystal chandeliers. The table arrangements have been pre-selected and arranged, you and the others most likely finding your seats inside. 
“Old hag told me you’re dating.” 
Bakugo speaks, his back still turned to Shouto. 
The bar in front of them offers a generous selection of drinks, all ranging from different wines to cocktails and liquor shots. It isn’t a surprise that Bakugo knows all of his friends’ chosen drinks, down to each specificity—it’s how he shows that he cares. Shouto’s come to learn that over the years. 
Their friendship has settled into its own dynamic as Bakugo’s mellowed down. Shouto will ask a question here and there, and Bakugo will look at him like he’s the dumbest fuck on the planet, but still answer anyway. 
It works, as evidenced by right now. 
Shouto stops right beside Bakugo, leaning against the countertop as he hums, confused, “Who?” 
Bakugo sighs, sliding Shouto his gin and tonic, “Mom.” Then he rolls his eyes, gesturing towards the door of the main room, “She told me you two are finally dating.”
Shouto pauses mid-sip. 
When he recalls the conversation he had with Mitsuki, it went a lot more like:
“Can a dress be made for my assistant as well?” he speaks into the line, “I will be bringing them to the gala.” 
He doesn’t think he insinuated anything. 
But now that he replays it in his head, it’s no wonder Mitsuki’s enthusiastic reply sounded so eager. 
Bakugo snorts, smirking as if his suspicion was just proven right, “Knew that lady was hearin’ shit.” 
The bartender serves up another drink, Ashido’s raspberry daiquiri being placed right in front of the blond before he moves on to mix another one. Clacking ice fills in the silence, the drink coming together inside the shaker. 
Shouto stares at his drink and watches as little bubbles form on the slice of lime submerged in it. 
“Are you at least thinkin’ about it?” the blond faces Shouto, leaning his forearm against the counter. 
Shouto furrows his brows, a single thought running through his mind.
“How did you know?” 
Bakugo stares, deep vermillion as he speaks, deadpan, “You can’t be serious.” 
Shouto stares right back. 
Another drink is served, Kaminari’s mixed drink of vodka, lime, and lemonade.
The stare-off persists for a few seconds, a series of blinks emphasizing Shouto’s cluelessness to the whole ordeal. Because—why does it feel like everyone knows? Did he mention it without knowing? Or is it really just that obvious?
Bakugo sighs, mentally facepalming as he turns back to watch the bartender shake another drink, “Whatever. S’none of my business.” He leans onto the counter, elbows resting on the steeltop. 
Shouto isn’t sure what else to say. He knows that Bakugo is observant, that his friend has always had a keen sense of awareness for the things going on around him; it just never crossed his mind that that would include his interactions with you.
The blond slides over Ashido’s drink, prompting Shouto to hold the flute of the glass between his fingers, “Just don’t be a fuckin’ dumbass about it. Gotta be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”
The bartender serves up the final drink: Sero’s whiskey on the rocks. Bakugo takes it along with Kaminari’s and starts walking back to the main room, Shouto following right behind him. 
He thinks about it. 
A thump. 
Because right before they both enter the hall, Shouto spots you, further back at the right side of the room as you laugh at something Yaoyorozu must have said. 
He blinks, wondering if the soft glow around you is from the haziness of his eyes. 
“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will,” Bakugo mumbles, just within ear-shot before he walks ahead to where Kirishima and the others are seated. 
Shouto makes a mental note to drop off Ashido’s drink before heading over to you. 
.
.
.
You and Shouto leave the gala early.
A message from the police station came in the middle of the event: a request to bump up a few reports for submission tomorrow.
You’d mentioned to Shouto that he could stay, especially since he’d be needed to accept awards that you were sure he’d be the recipient of—among them being one of the top performing agencies of the year, a big chunk of it based on the high turnover rate of timely reports. But he insisted that someone else could represent him instead; he’s certain Midoriya wouldn’t mind. 
If you were going back to the agency to work, so was he. 
The night shift at the agency is minimally staffed, with most sidekicks and pro-heroes out on patrol. Regular employees have clocked out by this time, and it seems that the only ones left in the building are the emergency unit and the two of you. 
You’ve split the work between you two: Shouto tasked to fill in the second pages, where the scene-by-scene breakdown and additional comments can be found, and you, in charge of summarizing those details along with all basic information onto the first pages. 
It feels nostalgic, watching you flip through the papers laid out on the coffee table of his lounging area at a quarter past midnight. Back then, he had just hired you, and the only other employees in the agency were his gear tech and PR manager. There was no way the volume of workload could be managed without spending late nights organizing investigations and reports on the floor of that rented studio unit. 
Now, you sit by the coffee table in his lounging area, one you helped decorate. The books atop it have been pushed to the side to give you ample workspace, but even those remind him of how much consideration you’ve put into helping him build his space. 
Bakugo’s words linger when he thinks about it—how the books you’ve chosen remind him of his family. There’s one on the language of flowers that his mother would love, and a cookbook that he’s sure Fuyumi’s used (some corners are folded, with her handwriting scrawled on every other page). On another stack lie a few comic books he remembers Touya and Natsuo reading when they were younger (that he’s pretty sure he’s seen them flip through during their visits to his office over the years).  
And along with all the books sits a family photo taken years ago, framed and taken by you during one of their annual trips to their family beach house a few hours away from the city. 
It begins to sink in. 
A thump.
He folds the sleeves of his button down to his elbows, his gray suit jacket long since draped over the back of his leather chair. You’ve changed out of your heels too, opting instead for the soft slippers you keep under your desk. 
It’s cute, he thinks, the formality of your entire get-up toned down by a pair of fluffy yellow slippers. 
When he glances at you again, he finds you hunched over yourself on the sofa of his lounging area, an arm wrapped around yourself as if to contain whatever warmth you have left. 
He furrows his brows. 
“Are you cold?” his voice booms through the stillness of his office, jostling you out of focus. You whip your head up to look at him, shaking it immediately as if on autopilot. 
(He pouts, then, a small downturn of his lips that you find adorable, more than anything.) 
“I’m okay,” you smile, but he can see the slight twitching of your lip; the goosebumps dotting down your trembling arms. 
You always seem to be doing things like this with him. 
He pushes himself away from his desk, the wheels of his chair rolling against the stone floor. 
You never express your discomfort in any situation you’re put in, and you diligently work and endure all conditions to get the job done. He always extends his help, but you often decline, and—
“You have to be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”
—Shouto is beginning to realize that the way you treat him really is so much more than that. 
You’ve laid the groundwork of the operations in his agency and you always smooth talk your way to getting him out of schedules he mistakenly forgets to show up to (typically with good reason, though). You cover all the areas he misses—this entire building would not be how it looks and functions without your help overseeing its construction. 
You’re organized and driven, eager and compassionate, and you care, above all else. 
The flowers you leave on his desk are never needed, but you always insist on them to keep his space alive. You fix all his clumsy papercuts, even though he never asks you to; he’s dealt with much, much worse, yet it’s only a split-second after you spot it that the tingling of your quirk works its way to mend his split skin. 
It’s just like what happened in the car earlier tonight, a few minutes away from reaching the city hall. Shouto had accidentally cut himself with the invitation to the gala, and though he insisted that it was okay, it was right on his eyelid—a miracle it even missed his eyeball in the first place, you’d commented. 
You managed to convince him then, saying, “It’s going to sting every time you blink.” —which was true; it did sting every time he blinked. 
That care extends to the people in his life too. His mom loves to go to the weekend market with you, and Fuyumi can always count on you to help her cook when she needs an extra hand. You keep up with Natsuo’s jokes and Touya talks to you, long enough conversations that allow him to be himself. 
You care, and you insist upon your care especially when you know he needs it but would never ask for it. 
It’s only fair, then, that it’s time he does the same for you. 
He removes the suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, the movement drawing your attention. 
(Your eyes widen as he approaches you. You feel shy, a little flustered as you raise your hands up to reassure him that you don’t need it.) 
“Your arms are shivering.” he points out, holding up the thick fabric. 
You crane your neck up to look at him, just a few steps away from reach. 
(You can’t deny the facts.)
From above, he only sees skin—the plunging dip of your exposed back, the small hairs standing along your arms. He tries his best to look into your eyes only, but—
“At least let me place this over you.” 
(And you know you can’t deny Shouto, either.) 
—when you concede and let him, he steps closer and bends just a little bit, his full height too tall to be able to place it on you properly. His arms circle around you, carefully resting the thick wool around your neck and onto your shoulders. 
He bends lower to adjust the sleeves, making sure that your arms are fully covered. You’re so still, and so close, the tips of his ears nearly touching the highest points of your cheeks. 
(It’s just like the gala—)
It’s just like the car—
(—with Shouto helping you navigate through the crowd of people exiting the event as early as you both did. His presence was a steady heat against your back, near and warm but barely touching.)
—with your face almost nose-to-nose with his; apart from the gentle touch of your fingertip against his eyelid, Shouto can only remember feeling that, along with the traitorous thump of his heartbeat. 
It’s a good thing that he had his eyes closed then; he wouldn’t have known how to react at the proximity. 
But now, he can see you so clearly, your low bun kept in place by bobby pins the same color of your hair; there’s glitter on the inner corners of your eyes, some of it falling to dot the corners of your nose. 
This has to be more than just a crush if he’s feeling this intensely.  
Your eyes meet for a brief moment, then it’s two blinks before you look away, clearing your throat as you glance at him again, a little bashful, “Thank you.” 
Shouto nods, taking one step back. 
“The estate we booked for the company outing offered to host a visit for you next weekend.” you speak before he fully returns to his seat, shifting in your seat, “I checked your schedule and there’s nothing set for that day yet.” His suit jacket dwarfs you, the deep navy silk becoming an accent the further you sink into it, “Maybe you’d like to go with your mom?”
You suggest it to him again. Because you know and you care. 
He taps his foot, looking out into the city, “That would be nice.” Then he turns back to you, strands of his bangs falling to dust his forehead as he puts his hands inside his pockets, “You’ll be coming too, then?” 
(There are things you don’t allow your heart to feel in moments like this—hope being one of them. Shouto looks dangerously attractive in a suit, and it’s been difficult to keep your feelings at bay the entire night. He speaks honestly, rarely with double meaning, so when he speaks to you like this, you try not to think too much of it. 
“Yes,” you agree, thinking that he must want you to scope out the venue for the company outing activities, “is there anything in particular that you want me to check out for the team building?”)
Shouto tilts his head. 
“Not for work,” he clarifies, staring straight into your eyes. “Just to spend the day with us.” 
He expects your reaction already, your eyes widening and your hands raising to wave off a ‘there’s no need.’ But, he finds that there’s no reason for you to be shy, already beating you to the final say.
“Mom would want you there,” he mentions, because it’s true. She’d look for you. 
And if he’s being completely honest with himself, with how he’s been feeling around you lately—he would too. 
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II. IF I SPEAK
The Todoroki family home comes alive on the weekends. 
Since Touya’s return, his mom has moved into a smaller, more modern place to stay. The walls of its exteriors are painted a warm off-white, its features complemented by light wood and bluish-gray accents. At the back exists a garden large enough for a few small trees and her growing flower collection—a complete flip from their larger and darker old home. 
The tall windows stream sunlight into the living space, each corner of the house doused in its comfort. Opting for a smaller home was a conscious choice—everything would be within reach, and so would the people in it. 
On the days that Touya is allowed to stay home from rehab, he lives here, sometimes with Fuyumi, but always with Rei. 
“Food is ready!” Fuyumi calls from the kitchen, prompting Touya and Natsuo to look over from the couch. Shouto is just about to finish setting the table when Rei brings out a piping hot pot of soup, Fuyumi in tow with a whole plate of tonkotsu. 
Natsuo heads inside the kitchen for anything else that might need carrying, and Touya opens the fridge to take out the iced tea he helped make last night.
It’s taken some time to get here—with Touya willingly doing anything with his family. Getting used to living with people he thought abandoned him for a decade is hard; learning to become a family has been even harder. 
But Touya has always lived in a special corner of his mother’s heart—never forgotten and always considered. Shouto thinks it’s the same case for all of them; that’s how it’s managed to work. 
Touya takes his seat beside Shouto, pouring himself a glass of iced tea while waiting for the rest of their family. 
“Played any golf lately?” Touya eyes Shouto from the side.  
Shouto shakes his head, staring at his palms; calluses used to line the base of his fingers, “Work at the agency has gotten busy.” 
Taking up golf has been part of Touya’s rehabilitation program for the past few months, a recommendation to aid in improving focus while keeping himself calm. And though there was much resistance at first, Touya’s grown fond enough of the sport to play it on his own; it’s made all the difference, Shouto’s noticed, his brother’s overall disposition a lot less angry—
“Looks like I’m going to beat your ass next week,” Touya smirks, cracking his wrists. 
—but still equally as snarky.
Shouto doesn’t normally care about competition; the only person he really has to beat is himself. But he and Touya are alike in many ways, with eyes as sharp as their father’s but their faces holding the same innocence as their mother’s. They are both lit up by fires—one forced to blaze and the other forced to dim. There is a bluntness Shouto shares with Touya that no one else in the family can argue with.
“Being too confident can jinx it for you on the fairway,” Shouto replies, turning to his brother with his signature blank gaze. 
Natsuo laughs as he settles into his seat beside Touya, watching as his older brother’s smirk quickly dissolves into a frown. 
“Little shit,” Touya mumbles, taking a sip from his drink. 
The corners of Shouto’s lips curl up slightly. 
Rei and Fuyumi join the table last, bringing out a steaming pot of rice and a few side dishes to complement the rest of the meal. 
These family lunches keep them connected. 
Fuyumi believes that no matter how busy they are, having this time to gather together and share details on each other’s lives is important.
“Sorry I can’t join you and these two next weekend, mom,” Natsuo starts, slicing through his tonkotsu as he points an elbow towards his brothers, “The hospital has a medical mission out of town.” 
Rei simply smiles, waving her hand, “No need to apologize. I’m so proud of you, Natsuo.” 
“Will you be free, Fuyumi?” she turns next to her, placing a hand on Fuyumi’s lap. 
Fuyumi swallows her food, smiling apologetically, “Sorry, mom, the school’s hosting a kiddie pool party for the first day of summer.”  
Rei pats her lap reassuringly, smiling again as she says, “It’s no problem, I’m glad the kids are having fun under your care.” 
“It’ll just be the three of us, then.” Rei looks at her two boys across from her—her eldest and her youngest. 
Touya blows at his bowl, puffs of steam dissipating into the air. For as hot as Touya’s flames can get, he dislikes anything too hot to eat—a preference of his that Rei’s taken note of as she reaches across the table to cool down his bowl ever so slightly. 
“Thanks,” Touya mumbles, still hesitant to call her ‘mom’ when it’s face-to-face. 
“I heard the estate has a greenhouse,” Shouto mentions, Rei instantly perking up at the information, “You can take a look at the plants there, mom.” 
“That sounds lovely, Shouto,” she smiles; this time, it reaches her eyes, “We can take photos in your handsome outfits too.” 
Touya scrunches his nose as Shouto nods. As per the invitation, the estate prepared a whole day’s worth of activities—a game of golf in the morning, brunch by the gardens, and a simple wine tasting to cap off the afternoon. 
Lunch continues with Fuyumi sharing more about the kids she’s handling this year, and Natsuo retelling interactions of the most obnoxious patients he’s had yet. 
They laugh, a little more like a family—Shouto chuckling as Touya gives a snarky comment or two. Fuyumi laughs, full-bodied, and Rei giggles, softly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 
“How are your flowers, mom?” Shouto asks after they settle down, remembering that you helped her pick out which ones to plant last time. 
“The morning glories are going to be blooming soon,” Rei replies, her smile fond and proud. Since being released from the hospital years ago, she’s taken to planting and flower arranging, oftentimes asking you to help her choose which ones to use. 
“Really?” Fuyumi turns her head, gasping as she catches a glance from the window across the room, “They look good, mom! Can I have some when they bloom?” 
Rei nods, turning to her youngest, “You can get some too, Shouto.” 
For you, she adds.
Natsuo eyes him from the side as he freezes, Rei suggesting some more, “You can place it in a vase. It’s not fair, you always receive flowers for your desk.” 
Shouto nods, a small ‘okay’ because he doesn’t really know how else to respond without giving his feelings away. 
Touya observes Shouto’s expressions, his eyes twinkling in sinister aquamarine.
“Speaking of,” he shifts in his seat, crossing his legs to face Shouto, “s’your hot assistant coming?” 
Something twists in Shouto’s face, his brows furrowing slightly. 
Touya knows just how to get on Shouto’s nerves.
(What stares back at him is a deadly shade of gray and blue. 
Touya does this pretty often: provoking just for fun. 
Shouto stares at almost everyone he interacts with; it’s unnerving and uncomfortable for people who aren’t used to it, but Touya’s noticed that his little brother stares at you for far longer than he needs to. 
And though he’s missed a big chunk of how Shouto grew up, he likes to think he reads him pretty well now—how he acts around you, especially.
At his core, Shouto believes in carving his own path, choosing to fix wrongs and better himself for the now. Touya knows these things, knows where a person is weakest, just like he’s been taught—just like he’s been made aware of his entire life. Yet, for how independent Shouto’s become, he still chooses to lean on you; turns to you for thoughts and opinions,  considering you in everything. 
Touya has met you a few times; the whole family has. During the worst of his relapse, you were the only person apart from family who was trusted to accompany him in and out of rehab. You picked him up and dropped him off, often joining Rei and Fuyumi on visits when Shouto would be too busy. 
To him, you’re an extension of Shouto at this point—an olive branch that’s been just as instrumental in healing this family and the people in it. 
It’s never in the big things, but those few minutes of small talk you attempt with him in the car ride home help loosen his tongue, training a muscle that with time, has helped him open up more. 
Touya doesn’t care much for people; he’s still just beginning to learn to love his family again, but he thinks you fit in well, because you and Natsuo have the same god-awful humor, and Fuyumi only trusts you to help out in the kitchen. His mom likes having you around, and you never stick your neck in too deep in other people’s shit when they aren’t ready for it—especially his. You never nag Shouto, but you stand firm on the things you disagree with, because as far as Touya can see, you care, far deeper than your job requires you to. 
In all ways, you are the stability and calm authenticity that Shouto needs after growing up in such a tumultuous family.
So, Touya likes to stir the pot a little. Or a lot. Maybe.
Just for fun.)
Shouto continues to stare, his frown deepening. His jaw clenches, tension throbbing in his temples.
“Don’t say it like that,” he mutters, low and firm.
He feels like a kid again; like this would be a conversation they’d be having if things were normal and Touya had been around when Shouto turned 15, teasing him about a crush he might have, like older brothers do. 
Natsuo and Fuyumi have always felt like his protectors, siblings forced to be parents by circumstance; but Touya feels like his brother, the one he can fight and steal food from; the one who holds a toy up above head where Shouto can’t reach—even though he’s much, much taller than his older brother now. 
Touya scoffs, smirking, “Just saying what you think, little brother.”
.
.
.
All Shouto hears is a thump. 
A succession of them, in a steady three-part beat. 
The golf ball in front of him sits on an even plot of vibrant green, its dents and grooves emphasized by the sunlight of the early morning—there’s pressure, a thump; he needs to beat Touya in this hole to tie overall. Another thump; you’re watching him play. 
He analyzes all conditions, feels the heat on his back seep through the fabric of his white golf shirt. He breathes in and prepares to swing. 
Today is the visit to the estate. 
The agenda starts with an early game of golf, followed by brunch at the gardens and wine tasting in the early to late afternoon. It’s a beautiful day, and Shouto should be focusing on winning this game, but it’s distracting when you’re all he’s really thought about since the start of this round. 
—you, in your perfectly fitted white golf shirt and its complementary skirt; you, sitting with his mom at the back of the golf cart, smiling and laughing as if you aren’t the slightest bit aware of how much you brighten a space when you look like that. You, with your head whipping right in his direction when you hear the loud ‘swauck!’ that the impact of his club makes with the ball—your eyes excited and hopeful. 
Shouto misses the hole, and Touya snickers from the side. 
The thumbs up you give him is a soothing balm to his miss.
Shouto readjusts his cap as they walk closer to the hole, tucking in the strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He glances back at you and lingers, interrupted only by—
“Pretty thing, your assistant,” Touya teases, nudging his head towards your direction, “Cute skirt and all.” 
“Stop.” Shouto stares, impassive and unamused. His eyebrow twitches before he turns, walking away. 
From afar, he can hear Touya’s chuckle, breathy from the movement of fixing his arm sleeve. Shouto only pays attention to preparing his putter.  
He knows this is just how his older brother is. 
Since the start of this round, Touya’s managed to lead by a few strokes, with Shouto falling behind in every hole. It’s frustrating and annoying, aggravated even more by Touya’s teasing and the fact that Shouto has played the sport for far longer than Touya has.
It doesn’t help that he ends up missing again, with Touya managing to make the put afterwards. 
Shouto sighs, clenching his jaw. 
“You know,” Touya eyes him as they walk to the next hole, “staring’s not gonna get you anywhere.” 
“I’m not staring,” Shouto retorts immediately. The expanse of greenery ahead of him is taunting, an endless plot of land that feels like it’s watching.  
Touya scoffs, “Sure.” 
The golf course in the estate is landscaped with luscious trees, vibrant in the brightness of summer. Flowers bloom along the perimeter, yellows and reds carving out this specific section of the estate. You and his mom follow closely behind, riding the cart at a slow and steady pace. 
Just a few meters down, the little red flag for the next hole comes into view, moving with the breeze. 
“If you don’t plan on acting on it, you should let me know.” Touya mentions it a little too casually. 
Another thump. 
It’s a joke. Obviously. Something only meant to rile him up—it’s how Touya is. 
But it still makes him feel just a tad bit uneasy; it makes him feel a little bit like it did when they were kids. 
Before Touya disappeared, they used to sneak into the garden on winter nights. Shouto must have been no older than five and learning how to manage his quirk properly. 
They used to play a game: The Twigfire Race, Touya called it—a competition on who can form the longest and fastest fire trail using a bunch of twigs. 
Touya would always win, his long legs and lanky arms gathering more sticks than Shouto ever could at that age. His flames burned a deep azure blue, eating through the twigs much faster than Shouto’s flames did. Then, he’d press onto the pads of his burnt fingertips, teasing Shouto in some twisted attempt at motivating his little brother to do better. 
Touya would always win, but not without getting a word in. Not without leaving Shouto with a lesson or two about it. 
“I said, stop.” Shouto warns him, voice stern as he turns slightly to catch his brother's eyes. 
“Damn. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Touya raises a hand in mock surrender, smirking, “I can just do it without asking you.” 
Shouto stops walking, fists clenched tightly around his golf club. 
“That’s not funny.” 
“Oh, I’m not joking,” Touya taunts, holding back his laugh.
The stare Shouto gives him turns icy, glare intensifying as he inches closer towards his big brother. Touya doesn’t move, the stare-off lasting long enough for you to notice the confrontation. 
From his periphery, Shouto can see you looking at them in confusion. 
“Or am I?” Touya snickers right before he turns away, walking straight towards the next hole. 
Shouto watches him walk away, each thump matching the footsteps his brother makes. To the side, the cart slows to a halt and you get off, standing up as if to gain a better view of what just happened. 
You lock eyes with Shouto and he musters a small smile, raising a hand as if to say ‘everything’s fine.’ 
“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done, Shouto!” Touya calls from a few steps ahead. 
Shouto stares at his brother’s back; it’s just how Touya used to say when they were kids—
“You just have to go for it!” 
He takes a step. 
.
.
.
Touya wins the round, with Shouto losing by only a few strokes. 
Rei hugs them both, Touya’s slight reluctance evident in the way his arms stay glued to his side as she wraps hers around the both of them. 
Shouto brings one hand up, resting it against her back; from his line of sight, he spots you smiling fondly, giving him another thumbs up when your eyes meet. 
.
.
.
The estate’s staff escorts everyone to their respective rooms, allowing some time to change into clothes more suited for the late morning brunch. 
When Shouto and Touya finish, they make their way to the greenhouse, a glass dome teeming with life. It’s art in bloom—chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, sunflowers, and camellias all in varying colors of pink, red, purple, and yellow. Under a small bridge is a pond, alive with koi fish swimming underneath pads of water lilies, and right up above, where the sunlight streams in, are baskets of japanese roses, hanging in bright, fuschia clusters. 
He walks atop the bridge, hands stuffed inside his linen pants—a pair that matches the linen shirt you gifted him birthdays ago. What surrounds him is beautiful; perhaps the most heavenly place he’s been to. 
A morning of golf under the sun, nature in florescence. A (relatively) peaceful morning. 
And you—
The moment Shouto spots you, the scenery on your backdrop fades into muddled hues. You and Rei enter the greenhouse side-by-side, with his mother wearing an all-white ensemble: a cardigan with a long, flowy skirt. 
And you—
—you walk in wearing a pale yellow sundress, its hem hitting just above your knees. There are dainty flowers dotted all over it, but nothing too loud; the straps sink into a v-neck with bust details, flowing down into an a-line skirt. It’s perfectly understated, only emphasizing the focus on how radiant you look in it. 
He can’t stop staring. 
Touya snorts as he passes him. 
This day, this sight, is going to stay in his memory for a long, long while, he thinks. 
From up ahead, he can hear his mom call for Touya, dragging him around to ask which blooms would look best for the garden at home. And when he snaps out of the daze you’ve put him in, you appear right beside him, asking if he’s okay. 
“Yes,” he answers promptly, unsure of what to say next. His eyes flit to the baskets of japanese roses hanging above you, then to the view peeking from outside. “Do you want to look around before we eat?”
You nod. 
The depth of the greenhouse is deceiving upon first glance, with Touya and Rei now out of sight as you explore the area. You walk close enough to be side-by-side but still stay a step behind like you typically do, pausing every now and then to take pictures of the flowers around you. 
“You seem more relaxed,” he points out, pushing up the sleeves of his button-up. 
You turn to him from the chrysanthemums you’re snapping, a little flustered at his comment. 
(And at him, mostly. You don’t know how anyone can look this good in a simple linen set. Nature favors Todoroki Shouto, and it shows in moments like now, with sunlight hitting his face at just the right angle that it paints stardust on the tips of his eyelashes.) 
“It’s good,” he quickly follows-up, fluffing through his bangs, “I did mention this wasn’t for work.” 
(You feel warm at the reminder.
“It’s nice to see you with some down time too,” you return the sentiment, uncomfortable with the attention on you.
Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress.)
“Did something happen earlier?” you put your phone down, continuing to walk. “At the course. Things looked pretty tense.” 
Shouto hums, considers his next words. He takes a few more steps before answering, “Touya is a dick.” 
A laugh escapes you, and you cover your mouth quickly as you mumble an apology. Shouto knows it’s because it’s completely out of character for him to be so vulgar and insulting when it comes to his siblings.
“Was he sabotaging you?” 
“...Something like that.” he responds. 
“That’s okay,” you scrunch your nose, peering up at him, “You haven’t had much time to play lately.” 
And Shouto wonders if he’s just that easy to console, or if it’s a specific comfort that only comes from you. You make it so easy for him to feel better about all the little and big things—whether it’s news articles headlining him as a PR nightmare, or near-losses on missions gone wrong. 
Not a lot of things get to Shouto, but when they do, you somehow always know how to handle it. 
You continue to stroll around the greenhouse, looking closely at the steel bars holding up the glass arches. From a few steps ahead, Shouto can hear your mumbles—something about measurements and the logistics of turning the rooftop of the agency into a smaller version of this greenhouse.  
“You and mom looked like you were enjoying yourselves earlier,” he mentions offhandedly, hands clasped around his back. 
It’s something he’s noticed for a while—his mother seems to relax more around you, laughing and smiling in most of your conversations. He gets it; you have that effect on everyone around you, the warmth you exude a welcome invitation to be opened up to. 
(You eye him from the side knowingly; Todoroki Shouto is nothing but a closet snoop.) 
“We were talking about plant stuff,” you smile, “and how she’s happy you and Touya finally got to play together. You should’ve seen how red her hands were from clapping for the both of you.” 
He chuckles softly, matching your steps in comfortable silence. 
It’s at a different section of the greenhouse that he pauses, giving you time to admire the shrubs of hydrangeas blooming around you.
Touya’s words come back to him. 
He wonders if he should say it, if he should ask—
“Don’t move,” you tell him, raising your phone to eye-level.
Shouto stares at you, hands in his pockets as he watches you tap on your phone.
“Look to the side,” you instruct him again, and he follows, albeit a little confused. 
When he turns to face you again, the smile on your face is beaming, glowing as you turn your phone to show him the photos you managed to take. 
“The lighting was nice. See!” 
And when you point to the way sunlight streaks highlights onto the redness of his hair, down to the slope of his nose and the width of shoulders, he can’t help but agree. 
Now, he wonders—
“Do you want a photo with the flowers?” Shouto asks, because it makes no sense that you deem him worthy to be pictured in perfect lighting when there’s you, looking like you do—the walking subject to the backdrop of greenery behind you. 
Your eyes widen, a stuttered “O-Oh,” falling from your lips. You tug at your skirt again, fiddling with the soft fabric until your eyes nervously meet his. “I don’t really need—”
“The lighting is nice here, too.”
“Oh,” you respond, a hint of diffidence as you flash a small, hesitant smile, “Okay.” 
As Shouto angles himself to take your photo, he notices you turn restless, the smile on your face never quite reaching your eyes and your fingers constantly twirling the fabric of your dress. 
He puts down his phone, tilting his head. 
“Are insects biting you?”
(Your brows shoot up, embarrassed by how he’s noticed. 
You shake your head in response, providing no other explanation besides “Sorry.” 
He continues to stare, as if waiting for you to continue. You know there’s no point hiding the real reason you feel so nervous when he’s already noticed this much.  
“I think I might be underdressed,” you admit, smiling sheepishly as you clasp your fingers in front of you, “This entire place is gorgeous.”
The estate screams high-class; apart from the golf course and the greenhouse, the area also boasts its own private lake glistening across a large green field. It feels a little too good to be true—a paradise you find yourself out of place in. 
But—)
Shouto looks at you, really looks at you—at the way your dress hits right above your knees at the perfect length, at how your collarbones peek through its dainty v-neck cut. Its pale yellow makes you look like summer, radiating in light, and he thinks he hasn’t seen anything more beautiful, really; anything more fitting—for this occasion, for this venue, for this day. 
For you. 
The words have been lodged at his throat since he first saw you step in, and now they’re being pushed out, coaxed slowly by the honesty beating thunderously in his chest. 
He thinks about his mom, how she speaks of beauty whenever and wherever she finds it, with nothing stopping her speech and—
There’s a hum, a thoughtful vibration priming his throat as he continues to stare. 
“I think you’re dressed just right,” is what he manages to get out. 
A thump. 
It’s more than that, though, he knows. 
If this is his chance, if this is ‘next time’ from his attempt at the gala—
He blinks, and you only get prettier. 
“You look beautiful.” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.
(And when he says your name unlike any way he’s said it before, you feel your chest expand, terrified that it might explode.
Shouto is blunt and honest to a fault; and that honesty, you’ve realized, also happens to be his most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 
“T-Thank you.” you straighten your dress, “You—”)
Shouto’s phone vibrates in his palm, a call from Touya breaking him out of your conversation. He bows his head slightly to excuse himself and you nod in acknowledgment. 
“Brunch is served,” he relays, pocketing his phone soon after he hangs up.
(Then, with his hand inside his pocket, he bends his arm deeper, creating a wider loop as if to offer it for you to hang onto—the same way he did during the gala.
And just like you did then, you take it.)
.
.
.
Brunch was served at the estate’s main patio, a circular table made of light wood adorned with dainty white tableware and muted green linen. In the middle was a centerpiece, an assortment of fresh flowers from the greenhouse coming together for a pop of color against the main neutral color scheme. 
The food was divine, a lovely selection of seasonal salads and warm breads, along with eggs cooked in every way possible. Newly harvested fruits were served before and after the meal, a kind of appetizer-dessert to complement the main piece—a large slab of freshly caught salmon. 
Now, you all gather on the second floor of the estate’s main building, right at the balcony overlooking the greenhouse and the field—a perfect view for wine tasting.
Shouto doesn’t care much for alcohol, all technicalities going past his head as the sommelier explains notes and wine pairings.
He can’t taste much of the difference, if he’s being honest. 
In the sommelier’s hand is a bottle of red wine; he describes all of the technical parts of it before finishing off with the fact that it’s ‘beautifully balanced’, something that causes Touya to snort at the side. 
Shouto looks, raising an eyebrow curiously. 
Touya leans in closer to his little brother, swirling the wine in his glass as he lowers his voice mockingly, “‘You look beautiful’.”
The expression on Shouto’s face remains unreadable, his brain processing the fact that his brother must have overheard his conversation with you earlier. It’s while Touya begins to gulp down his glass that Shouto steps on his foot—a sharp pressure stomped onto freshly cleaned loafers. 
“Fuckin–” Touya hisses, cursing under his breath as he pulls his foot away. 
The edges of Shouto’s lips curl up as he turns back to his glass of wine, watching from across the table as his mom smiles fondly at something you must have said. 
(You still feel flustered, a little fuzzy. You’re unsure whether the heat emanating off your cheeks is from the wine or the lingering echoes of his compliment earlier.
From across the table, you lock eyes with Shouto, gray and blue sitting strikingly atop flushed cheeks. You look away quickly—a knee-jerk reaction of bashfulness. He doesn’t hold his liquor well, a fact you’ve known for many, many years, so you can’t tell for sure whether he’s turned red from the wine, or from the same thing you’re feeling, too.)
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III. LET ME TELL YOU (HONESTLY)
“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will.”
“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done…”
“...just be honest about it when the time comes.”
The streets are calm at this time of night, with cars occasionally passing by and the chimes of shop doors tinkling as they open and shut. Not a lot of people stay up late in this part of the neighborhood, but Shouto still hears them—all the jumbled voices of Bakugo and his brothers merging in his mind. 
He steps onto concrete, footfalls muffled by the cushion of his boots—a new update on his costume, one you suggested after a stealth mission mishap caused by the drag of his heel. 
Tonight is his scheduled patrol—a route he knows like the back of his hand, memorized from the many years he’s been assigned to it. The streetlamps ahead cast a dim glow down the road; an atmosphere he would otherwise find unsettling if not for the fact that it’s provided him odd comfort in times he’s needed it the most. 
Tonight, his mind ruminates on you. 
Lately, his interactions with you have been… different—shy glances and awkward slip-ups; the intentional way he’s been expressing himself more around you. 
He can’t tell what you think of it yet. 
Yet, you still sit with him in comfortable silence on the nights that you both work late, and you still bring in fresh flowers for his desk every few days. He’s sure that when he gets back to the agency after his shift, you’ll still be there, claiming to finish a report when you both know it’s just an excuse to make sure that he finished patrol safely.
You still care for him in the same way. 
And now that he’s thinking more about it, maybe it’s been those little things all along—the same way you’ve been treating him all these years shifting into something deeper and more significant, beating its way out of his chest. 
You know Shouto better than anyone—so much so that his family asks you for lists of gift ideas because they don’t have the slightest clue what else to get him. He’s found himself seeking your opinion on things more and more over the years, and if he’s being honest, a big chunk of his decisions are now partly influenced by what you think of them first. 
Across the street, a couple sways to the beat of the jazz bar they step out of, their hands intertwined and smiles giddy with adoration and love. He looks away quickly before they catch him staring. 
There are things Shouto’s discovered that he likes seeing you do—like how you shift your feet when you feel flustered at something he says, or when you tap your index finger against whatever surface it’s on when you’re deep in thought. Your eyes widen when he says things you don’t expect him to, and something about that intrigues him.
He thinks you look cute. 
He wonders if you know that about yourself; and if you don’t, a part of him is saying that he should be the one to tell you.  
.
.
.
You and Shouto attend only one day of teambuilding. 
The company trip spans an entire two weeks, with each department coming in a few days at a time. You both would stay if you could, but Shouto’s schedule doesn’t allow him to be gone for more than a day.
It’s always been unspoken: wherever Shouto goes, you go too. 
This day of the teambuilding is assigned for the managers and those under Shouto’s direct reporting team. 
The estate is still as beautiful as the last time you both visited, summer shining atop the glistening surface of the lake across the green field. Company trips aren’t typically this grand, but this is also the first time in years that Shouto’s had free time to drop by. 
(It’s a bit funny, you think, watching him struggle to reach the finish line in a three-legged race paired with his finance director. Shouto is typically awkward in most team activities, but you find it endearing, watching him put full effort into things he normally doesn’t do.) 
By mid-afternoon, the day’s activities have consisted of tank rolls, marble balancing, and a classic game of pass-the-message (which, you’ve learned, Shouto is absolute garbage at). And for the final game of the day, the both of you are paired for a duo tug of war against his PR manager and support engineer. 
The afternoon heat burns the back of Shouto’s neck, his cap providing little to no protection for that area of his skin. He stands behind you, rope twisted firmly in his grasp as he prepares to pull. You mimic his stance, bracing yourself with your knees bent as you grip the rope tightly. 
Prior to the game, you were all given three minutes to discuss strategies. 
And so now, Shouto counts, low and steady, “One.” 
“Get set,” the facilitator for this activity announces. 
“Two.” 
You take a deep breath. 
“Go!” 
“Three.”
You both pull, holding your ground for a few seconds. He can see your knuckles turning white from where he’s standing, and when he glances at the other team, they’ve begun to lean back, anchoring their bodies to the ground before pulling away slowly. 
Shouto digs his feet into the earth, the rope’s rough fibers sticking to the calluses on his hands. It doesn’t take long before you both slip forward, being dragged by the other team and eventually pulled into your loss. 
You turn back to him immediately, apologetic as you rub your palms, “Sorry!”
(Before the game even began, you already knew whoever your partner was would be carrying most of the work. And you feel a little bad because your loss does make a bit of sense, you think. 
Though Shouto is strong, you know he’s developed his agility far more than his strength. It doesn’t help that his support engineer lifts bulks of synthetic thermal cloth everyday. 
The both of you didn’t stand a chance, really.) 
But Shouto waves it off, smiling softly. 
“Are you okay?” he looks down at your hands. Your skin is an angry flaming red all over your palms, but what causes him to frown are the small cuts resting at the base of your fingers. 
“Yup, all g–” you attempt to hide it, but Shouto’s reflexes are quick, and he catches your wrist the moment you pull away. 
It’s an instinctive reaction when he looks over it once, pressing his thumb to the center of your palm to get a better look. He reaches for his utility belt out of habit, patting the area above his hip only to feel nothing but the smooth cotton of his shirt.
Right, he remembers, he isn’t wearing his gear today.  
He drops his arms, looking around the field for a first-aid kit nearby. 
(A small chuckle escapes you, endeared, and Shouto looks up at the sound. His eyes meet yours briefly before he jogs all the way to retrieve the red box by the tree. 
It’s just a friction burn; a few small cuts from the rough material of the rope, at most. 
You don’t need first-aid. But—) 
When Shouto comes back, he ushers you to the side, grabbing a few cotton buds and antiseptic ointment from the box. His brain works on autopilot, barely thinking as he tends to your injury.
(You don’t need first-aid. But—) 
He peels the bandaid for you and gently places it on top of your wounds—a yellow checkered pattern decorating your skin. 
(You don’t need first aid. But you kind of get it, you think. It’s the same instinctive reaction you have when he gets papercuts. There’s no need for you to mend them with your quirk, but it’s an inexplicable feeling that makes you feel uneasy at the idea of him getting injured off the field.
A whistle is blown to call everyone back to huddle. 
“Better?” Shouto stares at you from under his cap, readjusting it as red and white strands touch the tips of his eyelashes. 
(He looks unfairly pretty like this. How can he even expect you to answer?
“Y-yeah,” you stutter, swallowing your breath. 
When Shouto walks towards everyone else, you follow, pressing your thumb onto your palm.) 
.
.
.
Shouto drops by the greenhouse at the end of the day. 
The sky above the glass dome ceiling is warmed by orange and pink hues. At sunset, the greenhouse looks ethereal, an almost otherworldly escape. The flowers haven’t changed much from his last visit here, but they seem to have blossomed further now that time has passed. 
He walks past the familiar cluster of chrysanthemums and spots a patch of white flowers he doesn’t recall from last time—a wooden placard with the name ‘iris’ sticks out from the soil. His knees bend to crouch low, fingers grazing over the softness of its petals. 
Earlier today, the estate so kindly offered to let him bring home flowers of his choice, and this bunch in front of him calls out to him, a purity and warmth that reminds him of his mom. 
The nippers in his hand feel clunky, a heavy-duty version of the ones he uses when he helps with gardening at home; but he cuts the stems gently, careful to remember all he’s been taught. 
When he thinks he’s gotten enough, he continues to stroll around the greenhouse, the wicker basket in his hand half-filled with pure, white irises. 
A little further down the path, he passes by the hydrangea bushes, his steps slowing as fragmented pieces of that memory with you replay in slow motion. 
“The lighting was nice. See!” 
“You look beautiful,” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.
And he decides—
He should get you flowers too. 
Your desk always seems to have some, and you’re consistently on top of keeping fresh flowers around the agency—on his desk specifically. 
It’s only right.
His mom always tells him that flowers can never lie; they bloom where they are loved and speak from the heart when words are not enough—it’s why she loves them so much.
And, maybe she has a point, because the pink hydrangeas look pretty; they remind him of you, especially.
On his way here, the white camellias spoke to him too. Maybe he’ll get them both for you. 
He crouches low again, nipping the hydrangea stems before backtracking to collect a few camellias. By the time he finishes, his wicker basket is filled to the brim, an assortment of pink and white threatening to spill from its edges. The leaves of the irises stick out, poking at his wrist and making the skin itch.
You find him that way—struggling to wrangle in the abundance of blooms into his basket.
“I think you need another basket,” you chuckle, walking towards him. 
There’s something about you and this hour; how it feels like you fit right in this moment, at the peak of sunset, blooming the same way the flowers do. 
Your smile is radiant against the warmth of diffused sunlight, and though he’s seen you in this same exact slacks-and-blouse combination before, the way he sees you now has shifted. 
You look different, but in all the ways he can’t visibly point out. 
He blinks, and that thump beats once more. 
His arm moves before he can comprehend it, the bunch of camellias and hydrangeas outstretched towards you.
Your eyes widen in surprise, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you tilt your head slightly, your hand reaching out for it reluctantly. 
“Would you want me to have this wrapped?” 
(The flowers feel lush in your palm, and you can’t help but wonder who he intends to give them to. There are irises in his basket too, left untouched for reasons you’re not sure you’d like to know. 
Your grip on the stems tighten. 
The camellias stare back at you, an immaculate white, with the pink hydrangeas adding a delicate softness to them. It’s a pretty combination, and you can’t help but think that whoever they’re intended for should feel—)
“It’s for you.”
You lock eyes when you look up. There’s a weight to Shouto’s gaze that intends to get his message across, the words still barely forming on his tongue. 
“Oh,” is the only thing you manage to say.  
(—surprised; grateful; confused; the emotions swirl inside of you. The shock is apparent on your face, your eyes widening at his admission. Confusion presents itself in the tilt of your head as you stumble over how to express your gratitude.
“It’s not…” you hesitate, diverting your gaze to anything else but that piercing pair of gray-and-blue. Your mind is drawing up a blank, figuring out what reason he has for giving them to you.)
“There’s no occasion…?”
It comes out as half a question and half something else, your uncertainty marked by the semi-lilt at the end. 
Shouto blinks. 
He wonders if he should tell you now, if he should just confess that he’s been feeling differently about you these days.
You shift your feet, your thumbs rubbing against the flowers’ leaves. 
The thump persists in his chest, knocking at the base of his throat—
Thump.
He takes a deep breath.
Thump.
—but even with its persistence, the words still struggle to come out.
Thump.
Maybe not now; it’s not the right time. 
But he says something else, an admission much easier that still holds just as much truth.
“No occasion.” 
.
.
.
Shouto knows your Mondays. 
You switch out the flowers on his desk for a different arrangement of blooms every week. Then, you give him a run-down of his schedule, going over important announcements and upcoming events. 
The mornings go by quickly, with you constantly moving around your desk. Shouto can’t tell what you’re doing exactly, but you’re always working on something whenever he sneaks a peek through the single glass panel cut-out from your shared wall. 
Lunch is a wildcard. On some days, you bring your own; on others, you grab a bite down in the cafeteria. Your routine is largely dependent on how busy you anticipate work to be that day, and though it varies from time-to-time, you never forget to knock on his door—a two-part thump that takes him out of his own little work bubble. 
He almost looks forward to it now, the way your head peeps in from behind his office doors. You call out his name softly, only continuing to speak when he looks up from whatever file he’s working on. 
Shouto knows your Mondays. 
You spend the afternoons all over the place, much like he does; while he roams the city, you roam the agency, attending meetings and checking in on different departments. He knows because when he comes back by the end of the day, you almost always have a new set of updates prepared on your desk for the next morning. 
He also knows that Mondays are when you often work overtime, preferring to get a bulk of any urgent matters completed and out of the way.
The back door of his office clicks shut as he walks into the room, his rubber boots leaving no trace that he’s arrived from how quietly his footsteps hit the floor. He unbuckles his utility belt, one hand automatically reaching for its lock; it’s a habit, the ‘clack’ that sounds from it a satisfying marker he looks forward to at the end of every patrol. 
In the corner of his office is a private restroom that he slips into. He quickly changes out of his hero suit and into a pair of sweatpants, throwing on one of his many favorite white shirts—his go-to outfit on the days he works late. 
There are still some reports he has to look over tonight, but nothing too time-consuming. 
It’s really you he’s staying behind for. 
He glances at you through the glass panel of his wall, your face dimly lit by your computer screen. Your eyebrows are scrunched, eyes squinting in pure focus. 
It never feels right for him to leave when you haven’t left either. 
He settles into his seat, finger tapping on his desk as he contemplates whether or not he should offer you his help. 
You always decline when he does; he can already hear your response. But there are stacks of folders on your desk right now and he’s predicting that it’ll take at least a few more hours before you get through all of them.
He taps his foot, staring at the report in front of him. 
A thump. 
The wheels of his chair roll back, leather squeaking as he stands up. 
As soon as he exits his office, you look up, surprised. 
“You’re back!” 
He nods, walking closer to your desk. “It’s 8:00 p.m.”
You glance at the top of your screen, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “Right.” 
(This is his way of telling you it’s late, you’re well aware.)
He looks around your desk, folders and stationery all neatly organized and labeled. You keep a few touches of your personality around your space, with personalized pens and notepads gathered in one corner. 
They’re all things he’s seen before, but what makes him do a double-take is the vase sitting in the corner, obscured by your computer screen. 
Sitting inside it is the arrangement of flowers he gave you back at the teambuilding, the pink hydrangeas still as good as new next to the white camellias. It’s been a little over a week since, and you always change the arrangement on your desk as frequently as you change his. 
So for you to keep it for this long—
“And how may I help you?” you ask jokingly, biting down your smile. 
His eyes flit over to you, your gaze set on your screen as you continue to type.
(It’s hard to focus on the documents in front of you when he looks at you like that. Shouto’s stare has always been unnerving, but it feels especially scrutinizing when he merely stands, watching without a word.)
“You have a lot of work left,” he gestures towards the stack of folders on your desk. 
(Your eyes glance over the pile quickly as you mumble, “Yeah.” 
A few seconds of silence pass before what he really means starts to sink in. 
It’s not often that Shouto finishes work before you—at least, to your knowledge. You still see him inside his office when you pack your things, ready to leave. 
So, this is out of the ordinary. 
And if he’s standing in front of your desk, hinting at how much longer you’ll be staying at work. Then, it can only mean—
“A-are you waiting for me to go?” you move to stand, guilty. “Don’t worry about it, I can lock up.”)
Shouto furrows his brows, tilting his head slightly. 
That’s never been a thing; he’s always gone home last, and has always waited for you when you have work left to do. He makes sure of it every time, watching carefully for your computer light to turn off. 
But he won’t tell you that; letting you know would mean admitting that he’s been doing it for years. 
He places his palm on the top folder. 
“What else do you have to do?” 
You stay quiet for a few seconds before reluctantly listing it all—reports, meeting summaries, and a few emails you plan to schedule for tomorrow morning. His frown deepens as your list only grows, immediately cutting yourself off the second you notice your ramblings. 
“… but if you’re waiting, I can bring these home and—”
“What can I do to help?” he interjects, stopping you just before you shut down your computer. 
(You can only stare when proceeds to take a seat in front of you, the legs of your guest chair dragging against the floor as he pulls it closer. 
It hits you a bit like déjà vu, this moment, how it feels just like early days back in that rented studio unit; back when you could count the number of people comprising his team on one hand. 
Back then, your desks were just a few steps away from each other, an overflow of paperwork inevitably spilling into each other’s spaces. Because all of the files were stored in your drawers, it was more convenient for Shouto to sit himself across your desk, splitting the work and going over them one at a time. 
Things are different now that the agency’s grown—you have a bigger space, and the work isn’t nearly as packed as it used to be; but some days still end up a little bit more hectic than others. Like today.
“There’s no need,” you reach for the stack under his palm, “I can finish this at—”
“We can finish faster if we do this together.”
That promptly shuts you up. 
Shouto is blunt to a fault, unafraid of saying things as they are; his voice carries an unbothered cadence no matter who it is he’s talking to. 
You figure, there’s no point arguing with him when he’s right, after all.) 
Shouto begins going over a few of the reports that you’ve tagged red and yellow, listening intently as you instruct him on which parts to focus on. In exchange, you make space for him on your desk, setting aside some of the folders you had brought out earlier.
It’s a good hour into working before Shouto notices you easing up slightly, your shoulders more relaxed in comparison to how bunched up they were earlier.
He knows you’ve been glancing at him occasionally, your head turning every now and then to check on how he’s doing—a failed attempt at subtlety. 
“Are you almost done?” he asks, head down as he slips another completed file into its folder. The stack beside him is growing, his ‘done’ pile nearly as tall as the unfinished one. 
(You turn to him, attention shifting to the split of red and white hair down the center of his head, “Yeah, I just—”
Your words trail off, eyes squinting as you move closer to where he’s hunched over. 
Right on the shoulder of his shirt is a small tear, big enough to touch the edges of its collar but small enough that you’d only have to be up close to be able to notice. 
You assess the tear intently, looking carefully for any cuts underneath and thankfully find none.
But—
He notices you’ve gone quiet and looks up, the sudden movement catching you off guard. You make a sound, something in-between a squeak and an ‘oops.’ 
“Sorry, I just,” you point, “your shirt’s ripped.” 
His eyes follow the direction of your finger, finding the small tear running horizontally along the fabric of hjs shirt. 
“I can fix it,” you offer, the wheels of your chair rolling to land you directly across him. 
It’s one of his favorite shirts.)
He barely thinks when his body acts on its own, pressing itself closer to your desk as you slightly bend over for better reach. 
You don’t have to patch up his shirt, especially something so small. He has plenty of the same ones in his closet; and if it comes to it, he wouldn’t mind buying a new one. You really don’t have to patch up his shirt, because he wouldn’t have even noticed had you not mentioned it. 
But it’s that kind of tender care and attention to detail that you’ve had for him since you started working together that’s always drawn him in. 
Shouto has lived most of his life with the means to live comfortably, but since starting his own agency, he’s learned the value of maximizing resources—and it’s all because of you.
A thump. 
The moment your fingers touch his shoulder, he hears nothing but that continuous three-beat thump. Your quirk tingles when it touches skin, but you aren’t mending that—you’re fixing his shirt, separate from your skin, and yet, he still feels the little zaps go off inside of him. 
A thump.��
Up close, the strands of your hair tickle his cheek. 
A thump. 
The fabric of his shirt mends itself slowly, and it only makes him think of everything else—of the leather chair you helped fix, painstakingly going through each and every crack to bring it back to near-new condition. He thinks about every cut and scrape you’ve helped heal without having to, about every time you’ve insisted when he’d shrug it off as nothing. 
From you, he’s learned that things can be fixed without having to change them whole. 
It’s how he’s (you’ve) managed to keep the agency running; it’s why you get along so well with him and the rest of his family. 
And these feelings in his chest are pounding, built up over time to tip over and transform into something more than just an excellent work dynamic. At this point, it’s become companionship, a presence he seeks out a little bit more than friendship. 
You know him better than anyone else does. 
The flowers he gave you are still on your desk. 
So, he says your name, voice low and tender by your ear. 
You freeze, holding your breath. 
Another thump.
His honesty spills outs—
“I like you.” 
A three-beat thump. 
(You don’t believe it at first, the urge to ask him again right at the tip of your tongue. But, he pulls away, unfinished, and looks you in the eye to continue. 
“But it feels more than a crush, I think.” He presses his fingers against the table, grounding himself, “Natsuo told me it was a crush, and he told me to think about it, so I did.” 
Shouto is a man of sufficient words; not too few, not too plenty. But when he gets nervous and a little excited, he starts rambling, and—
“Bakugo told me his mom thought we were dating, and even though I said that wasn’t the case, I almost didn’t want to deny it. Touya has been a dick about it, but he makes good points, so I also owe it to him.”
(The shock on your face shifts into fondness. You can’t see the point of what he’s saying yet, but it’s cute—one of the many things that make him endearing.) 
He pauses, watching your expression shift into curiosity. 
“It started with this thumping,” he places a hand over his chest. “It used to only come sometimes, but lately it’s been happening all the time.” 
Shouto keeps his gaze deadset on yours. He doesn’t say anything else, sentences just barely forming in his head to fully capture what he really means. His feet and palms stay firmly planted where they are, his only movement being the steady blinking of his eyes. 
(But it’s okay, because you can understand. 
If you’re being honest, the signs were all there. 
Nothing Shouto does can be subtle when you know him as well as you do. 
A smile breaks out on your face, the one you can barely contain around him. It’s a little teasing and shy but completely genuine from the way it softens your eyes. 
“We’ll have to come up with something for HR,” you try to contain your smile.)
And he isn’t worried at all. He knows you’ll both find a way, just like you always do.
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additional material: moodboard + playlist
a/n: so much to say about this fic but i'll sum it up with saying this is my baby! and i hold it close to my heart for many reasons. writing this made me love their dynamic and i hope you did too! also maybe slightly unrealistic office/hr rules but 🤷‍♀️ he’s the boss he makes the rules 🤧
thank you notes: to @soumies for literally beta reading this. i owe this fic to you fr you are my lifesaver i love you. to @augustinewrites @scarabrat @stellamancer @arcvenes for helping me a ton with characterisations, dialogues, songs, inspo, everything!!! ily all!! it took a village to write this fic fr. (+ to my bf for sitting me down so he could explain the whole point system of golf for like 30 minutes LOL)
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comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
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livwritesstuff · 1 year ago
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Steve is home one day with his daughters when he realizes that his oldest, Moe, is ten.
Okay, obviously, he knew she was ten. She’s been ten for a while, as her birthday is in July and it’s now December, and the girls are discussing Christmas as they perceive it in their little girl worlds.
It’s really that Steve realizes that Moe is the same age Erica had been when he’d asked her to climb through air ducts and infiltrate a Russian military base.
It’s a realization that has Steve feeling a little nauseous, because Moe is ten and she’s plotting with her little sisters about how they’re going to stay awake on Christmas Eve to catch a glimpse of Santa (their conspiring has Steve worried for his and Ed’s own role in Christmas Eve and the way it hinges on the girls falling asleep as early as fucking possible), and she’d lost another baby tooth this morning and hasn’t stopped talking about what the tooth fairy might leave for her overnight, and she still sneaks into his and Eddie’s room after nightmares looking for snuggles, and she’s afraid of car washes and bugs, and she still wants to be read to before bed every night.
He’d been struck suddenly by how little Moe still is. Maybe he’s only thinking that because she’s his daughter – his first daughter, at that – but he still looks at that kid’s face and sees the newborn baby who’d made him a dad ten years ago.
He can’t imagine looking at her and seeing someone equipped to take on Erica had been asked to do, never mind actually asking her to do it, which is precisely what Steve had done twenty-five years ago.
It eats at him for the rest of the day.
“Just call her, Steve,” Eddie urges him after Steve brings it up for the sixth time that evening, “You clearly need to air this shit out.”
So Steve calls Erica.
Erica is in her mid-thirties now. She’s a kick-ass lawyer at a private firm in Indiana, and she picks up the phone on the second ring.
“This is Erica,” she says.
“Hey, it’s Steve.”
“What’s up,” she replies, still never one for beating around the bush.
“I just – I need to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For Scoops,” Steve says, “For Starcourt.”
Erica is silent for a while.
None of them really talk about any of that stuff anymore. They’d hashed everything out ages ago, until all that was left behind was the understanding that none of them would ever be able to truly move past it, that there would always be guilt and fear and pain they could never shake.
“Okay?” she finally says, question in her tone.
“I just…” Steve hesitates, “Look – I didn’t get it. I didn’t fully get how fucked up it was. I was the grown up in the situation and I should have put a stop to it but I was stupid and reckless, and now that Moe is ten, I can’t stop thinking about how insane it was for us to even consider roping you into that.”
“I agreed to it.”
“You were a kid.”
“You were a kid,” Erica insists.
“Eighteen isn’t a kid anymore.”
“Say that to me again when Moe’s eighteen and maybe I’ll believe you.”
Steve doesn't have anything to say to that, because Erica is probably right (though only time will tell, he supposes). Their phone call ends only a few minutes later with Erica telling him to go easy on himself and Steve saying he’d try before apologizing one more time.
“You gonna take her advice?” Eddie asks after he’s pulled a begrudging Steve into his arms.
“No,” he tells him, curling into his husband’s side and sticking his nose in Eddie’s neck so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye.
“Figures.”
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serosluv2 · 11 months ago
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obsessed bf x pretty gf trope hcs w sero & shoto pls & ty 😁😁 (seperately pls)
It’s only 7 months late but here u go anon 😘
a/n: I wrote this in an hour in the bathtub so if it is shit- don’t tell me bc I’m just getting back into writing 😭😭
Shoto Todoroki
He fits this trope so well.
He is THEE resident pretty boy of UA so it makes perfect sense that he has the prettiest girl in all of Japan. (The world)
He is the teeny weeny ist bit dense on like how to take proper photos of you for the ‘gram but trust that he WILL be searching up everything about lighting and angles and exposure and zoom- all that nonsense.
If you’re a social media girly he may leave like one or two comments. He isn’t the best about being outwardly obsessed with you, he is all about those private small moments. Not being able to take his eyes off you anywhere. Always needing to be beside you. If he can’t be with you then trust he is texting you at every free moment and expects a response within 5 minutes.
He loves shopping with you and helping you pick out outfits or jewelry or how to style your makeup that day. He has no real opinion on what looks better tho he just loves seeing you get all prettied up. (Yk that tiktok where the girl is trying to decide on a dress color and her bf is just like “wtv u want mama u look breathtaking in both” ?That’s him.)
I feel like he doesn’t really buy you anything in the beginning of your relationship bc he doesn’t really see the point/value or something in that BUT all it takes is for kaminari to get you some product you’ve been wanting for a while for secret santa and seeing how touched you were by the gesture sends him into over drive:
“OH MY GOD! KAMI!!” You exclaim- wrapping your arms around him. “How did you know? I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” Shoto notices how big your eyes got and the slight blush on your cheeks from excitement and he feels, something unpleasant. Jealousy? Envy? Possessiveness? Whatever it is he doesn’t like how grateful you’re acting toward the blonde. I mean sure, he got you something nice you’ve wanted but that’s not his job (he just so happened to get you for secret santa so he kind of had to get you something) he’s not your boyfriend only your boyfriend- HIM- should be gifting you stuff. Then he kinda has a “ohh.” Moment and realizes he has never really gotten you anything just because.
Anyways after that whole interaction he is getting you anything and everything you look at for more than a second. You keep looking at some necklace at the store? Bought. He sees you liking tiktoks about girls getting flowers? Now you’re getting a bouquet every date night. Does he himself have money? No, but that No.1 hero daddy sure does. And let’s be honest he kind of owes shoto for making his childhood - for lack of a better word- awful.
In conclusion, Shoto loves his pretty girl and will do anything she asks of him without question.
Hanta Sero
Clawing at my cage for this man.
Now sero has been… infatuated with you since he first laid eyes on you one faithful morning. You were ordering at some coffee shop he passes by on his way to school and just one glance had him stopped dead in his tracks. The way your hair framed your face perfectly, your face in general because holy shit- you were gorgeous. Straight out of a magazine. He quickly took notice of the little embellishments you made to your uniform.. uniform? The same one Mina has. OH MY GOD YOU GO TO UA AND HE HAS NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE?
He literally cannot stop thinking about you and boom you appear again in the halls. Your going the opposite direction has him with your friends and he sees you all have a little cafe cup. Did you buy them all a drink before class? So you’re stupidly gorgeous and nice. Great, he, for sure, has no chance with you now.
But oh that’s where he is wrong.
When you guys start dating he actually cannot believe it. He is very guarded at first because- now it’s my personal hc that sero is a bit insecure- he can’t fathom how you, YOU, would actually want to date someone like…him.
But once those walls come down he doesn’t shut up about you. Seriously all his friends are so annoyed:
“Good god soy sauce if you mention your little girly friend again I’m hurling you across the city.”
“You’re just mad you don’t have a girl as pretty as mine- don’t worry baku-man, I’m sure one day some poor person will take pity on your soul.”
Sero did in fact get hurled across the city that day.
Now where he differs from Shoto is that this man is a GOD with a camera. He has that artistic eye and is able to capture you being your baddest/cutest/authentic self.
Literally ya’ll
He also has a good sense of style. He never thinks you look bad in one thing versus another but he will take into account the vibe of where you’re going and what’s you’ll be doing and give his opinion based on that. Because he grew up with sister and knows how to get around the “which one looks better?” Type question without hurting you.
Now sero doesn’t have money to spoil you senseless but what he does have is the forever lasting instinct to put your comfort above his own. It’s freezing and you didn’t wear a jacket because “a hoe ever gets cold”? Don’t worry sero will give you his and be visibly growing icicles on his body to keep you warm. Feet hurt from those impractical shoes? He’s caring you all the way home even if he is still terribly sore from a killer arm workout the day before with kirishima. A no a mudy puddle and you’re wearing your new white shoes :(! Well sero is laying his jacket down over it or simply caring you over the puddle. He isn’t the type to roll his eyes at how “ridiculous” or “spoiled” you’re being. You are y/n freaking l/n. He’ll do whatever you need to make sure nothing in your life goes wrong.
He also is the type to spam comments in your TikTok or Insta post and makes all his friends do the same. Not that you need it- he just loves fueling your ego.
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satoruxx · 11 months ago
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pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader summary: toji being a grinch lmao, grumpy x sunshine again, fluff, bickering rheya’s note: man i bet toji pretends to hate decorating for christmas but does it anyway bc he can’t say no to you! UGH he makes me !! i couldn’t stop thinking about bf!toji so here’s this silly little drabble. merry christmas everyone <33
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“you serious?”
“yup.”
toji crosses his arms with a scowl, and you mirror his stance with narrowed eyes.
“it’s stupid,” he grunts, reaching out to gently push his palm against your forehead—which earns him a dramatic groan.
“it is not.” you grab his bicep and he lets you drag him over to the tree you’ve set up in the living room. “don’t be an ass.”
he sighs as you place a floppy santa hat on his head and beam at his disgruntled expression. there’s an identical one on you—sliding off your head in all your excitement, and toji has to stop himself from fixing it for you.
you crouch down and throw open a few storage boxes before gesturing somewhat emphatically. “get to work!”
he grumbles, shaking his head even as he goes to pick up a few ornaments. “you’re ridiculous.”
“not very christmas-y of you, toji,” you comment, standing on your toes to hook an ornament. he snorts, eyeing the glitter sticking to his fingertips.
“oh no—i’m the spitting image of joy, can’t you tell?” he replies sarcastically, though his shoulders relax a little as he hears your unfiltered laughter.
toji glances at you, watching as you quietly hum some old christmas song under your breath while filling up the tree with colorful orbs. he’s not sure why you’re so intent on having him be a part of your yearly holiday traditions—he’s never been big on celebrating anyway.
but then he remembers what you had said last year.
“i don’t wanna celebrate anything if you’re not celebrating it with me.”
you’ve always been too good to him.
you scoot a little closer, decorating without a care in the world and toji lets out a quiet breath—decides to be a little annoying because it’s a surefire way to make you smile.
“you mind?” he frowns, huffing with a dramatic sneer. he pins you with a pointed glare before motioning to the tree. “you’re getting in my territory.”
you throw him an appalled look before moving your arm in his face childishly. “what are you gonna do about it?”
an evil smirk makes its way onto his face, and your expression immediately drops. “wait no—“
toji’s bicep curls around your throat, pulling you into a headlock as you squeal and slap at his arm. he spends the next few minutes playfully wrestling with you before finally letting you win and step into his space—stands behind you and watches your fingers gently place ornaments while his hand absentmindedly rubs over your hipbone.
“what do you want for christmas anyway?” you ask offhandedly. toji raises a brow, looking down at you—expressionless.
“thought it was obvious—“ he shrugs, reaching up to hang ornaments on the higher parts of the tree. “all you gotta do is sit under the tree for me and i’ll be happy. bonus points if there’s unwrapping involved.”
you make an expression that has no business looking that scandalized and toji smirks in amusement.
“psycho,” you mutter, shaking your head in mock disapproval—earning a muted chuckle in return. you go back to hanging up ornaments, once again humming to yourself, and toji takes it as a cue to continue decorating. the two of you work in relative silence—an occasional quip or jab the only disturbance. after a while, he crosses his arms.
“are we done yet?” he groans, eyeing the nearly full tree. “i’m tired as fuck.”
“weak,” you grin, though you reach out and pat his chest thankfully. “but you did participate and that’s all i wanted so, yeah, you can be done.”
toji almost laughs in relief, but then he sees you rummage through the boxes and pull out more decorations for the rest of the house, and he sighs.
“alright hand it over,” he grumbles, holding his palm out expectantly. you look at him—half confused and half surprised.
“i thought you were done?”
“yeah right,” he huffs, taking the tinsel from your hands and walking over to the staircase. “you’d end up tangled in this crap if i left you alone with it.”
“you’re so dramatic. and whiny,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes.
“am not.”
despite saying so he quietly huffs as he continues to help you decorate the house with stockings and tinsel and all that other festive stuff.
by the time the house is fully decorated, toji is close to banning the holiday season—grumpy, tired, and ready to move onto something else.
but then, the tiniest part of him is uncharacteristically giddy when you look up at him, holding the star in your hands. toji shakes his head, trying to bite back the amused grin tickling his scarred lips, before sighing and crossing his arms.
“can i help you?” he asks—teasing, though his expression betrays nothing.
you pout, holding the star up dramatically. “the star needs to be put up.”
a smirk graces his face and his tone becomes taunting, yet the affection is not lost on you. “yeah? need a boost, kid?”
even before you nod, toji is crouching in front of you, palms reaching out to guide your legs over his shoulders. you laugh as he stands back up, taking a few steps towards the tree.
he can’t help but chuckle as he watches you lean forward, palm smoothing over your thigh in attempts to stabilize you. “you got it?”
“almost.” he can hear the strain in your voice, can feel the way your fingers twitch against his jaw—but he waits patiently.
“okay got it!” your voice is triumphant, and toji grins to himself.
“attagirl.” his lips brush against your inner thigh—a sweet reward for a job well done. he hears your quiet giggle from above him as you gently push away his dark bangs.
“alright, put me down now,” you huff, and toji bites back a scoff.
“tsk.” he clicks his tongue, though he still lowers himself to let you hop off his shoulders before rising to his full height. “so ungrateful.”
“what do you want, a medal?”
you yelp as toji’s fingers pinch at your side in retaliation. “watch your mouth, kid.”
you flash him a grin full of mischief, though you don’t say anything else. instead you look up at the finished tree, marveling at your handiwork with pride.
“see—” you say with a pointed grin. “—isn’t it pretty?”
toji chuckles, wrapping a heavy bicep around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. “yeah,” he agrees, green eyes trained on your happy little smile. “it is.”
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fushic0re · 1 year ago
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𝐀 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃❜𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎
𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢, 𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢, 𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜, 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢, 𝗥𝗬𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗔, & 𝗔𝗢𝗜 𝗧𝗢𝗗𝗢.
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𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─ how they are as gift givers (how soon do they shop, do they shop late, etc.)
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. a bit of angst for toji because i can’t help myself. mentions of violence.
꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡
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𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈  
WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH THE BEST. 
You literally don’t need to make it overt what you want for Christmas–not even just Christmas if we’re being real. 
Takes gift giving very seriously. It’s more than just handing you things he has bought for you, it’s about celebrating you and how highly he regards you
…..Though there’s no price that can be put on how much he loves you. So, he’ll settle for spoiling you instead. 
Every first of the year, he starts game planning his next gifting season. 
He pays very close attention to you, memorizing your every habit down to your breathing pattern. Do not be surprised by the fact that his gifts are always immaculately packaged with wrapping paper that is the exact shade of that new color you’ve been into (yes, that one) paired with a complimentary bow and card to match. 
A professional spy when it comes to purchasing your gifts.
Oh, that top you looked at for literally only 5 seconds? He’s already putting it on hold in your size for him to come pick up later. 
If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought Kento never bought you anything because you never noticed a change in routine. Not a single one.
He also doesn’t put his gifts under the tree until two days before Christmas so that your nosey self doesn’t snoop through them. 
You literally wake up one morning to the tree flooded with gifts and him just nonchalantly sipping his coffee. 
His favorite gifts to plan are vacations for you guys. You are his motivating factor to rest and actually live the life he has made for himself. 
While his gifts are immaculate, it’s his cards that are the real tear jerkers. 
He writes you the most beautiful things. You stopped reading his cards when people were around because they made you sob. 
Truthfully, the real gift is the sweet messages your lover leaves you. 
𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 
Suguru is right up there with Kento in terms of gift giving. 
This man is observant and prepared, putting in lots of time, care, and effort into buying you gifts. 
He isn’t above sourcing your friends too. Every year, your friends get a text like, “If she mentions wanting something to you, text me ASAP please. Thank you!” 
At this point, he has a whole database of things you like and want.
Unlike Kento, Suguru won’t be as secretive. He knows you know when he’s out shopping for you and loves teasing you when you get curious. 
He’ll literally taunt you about all the things he’s getting you until you’re foaming at the mouth and going feral while trying to guess what he got you. 
Packages his gifts and immediately puts them under the tree when you’re asleep that way you wake up to a new gift every morning until Christmas.
“Oh! Someone got a gift from Santa. Sigh, I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.”
Gift giving is symbolic to him as well. Every gift of his is sentimental and has a connection to aspects of your relationship. 
Remember the cherry blossoms that had just bloomed at the park you guys were at when he first asked you out? He stuffed some in his pocket and had them framed. The dried Sakuras now hang on your office wall, a reminder of his love for you every time you work. 
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
Money is clearly nothing to this man…but that’s what makes Christmas shopping for you hard.
He literally buys you everything you want on the spot! What the hell else is he supposed to give you? 
Struggles a bit for this reason. 
He tries to splurge on your less throughout the year to build up Christmas, but it’s impossible. He absolutely cannot see something that makes him think of you and not get it.
For this reason, you tell him that it’s okay that he doesn’t get you anything on Christmas since every day with him is like Christmas….this falls on deaf ears.
Really he’s most concerned with getting you something meaningful since like I said, you have everything you could possibly need and want. 
Uses Megumi and Tsumiki for his emotional appeal factor.
For sure asks Suguru and Kento for help.
Ultimately, he decides to go for something simple and sentimental yet still very Satoru–a gorgeous ring with your birthstone with a sweet message engraved inside and a family photo of both of you with Megumi and Tsumiki. 
That ring is just a warm up for the real deal…but he’ll plan that a little bit more elaborately. 
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎
Women like perfume, flowers, and shit right? 
God bless this man. It’s been a while since he had to shop for a woman, he’s just trying his best.
He still needs help though. 
Since the passing of his late wife, he hasn’t opened up to anyone, let alone another woman. 
But here comes you in all of your glory waltzing into his life and defying all of his expectations, bulldozing his walls down like they were made of straw.
He wanted so badly to give you a token of his appreciation and love for you, but it’s so hard. 
It’s hard walking through the familiar flower shop he used to frequent to buy his late wife flowers. 
It’s hard thinking of her so much because he can’t help it when he does things like this. 
It’s hard subtly comparing you both as he shops for you, but she’s the only other woman he’s ever loved and his only guide to doing right by you. 
Toji’s not a rich man. He won’t ball out on you the way Satoru or even Kento does. 
He resorts to a lot of homemade gifts with the help of Megumi because lord knows he can’t craft for shit. 
He takes the traditional approach with flowers, breakfast in bed, homemade ornaments–little things that bring life and love into your shared home.
He saves all of his measly paychecks to buy you a locket. Inside is a picture of you, him, and Megumi.
On the other side of the locket are the words he’s too afraid to say out loud because they’ll break him…..
“Thank you for loving me.”
𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
………God.
Do not tell this man you want anything because he will get it for you, but tenfold.
Oh, you enjoyed your trip to Kyoto? He’ll kill everyone there so you both are the sole inhabitants of the city. Kyoto is now yours. 
You love the ocean? Great, it’s yours and whoever roams it without permission will be considered trespassers and dealt with accordingly. 
Fuck a beach house, he’ll just give you the whole sea. 
He will literally mount the heads of your enemies on the mantel or hang their beating hearts on a gold chain that you can wear around your neck if it brings you joy.
In his head, there are no limits when it comes to his Queen of Curses. None whatsoever. 
He wants you to be instantly gratified. You are the one person he feels the need to prove something to. 
There really isn’t much to be said other than this. 
This man would burn the world if it meant keeping you warm, so don’t be surprised when he does. 
𝐀𝐎𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎
……God 2.0. 
Aoi is the kind of guy to buy you a whole present just because you sneezed and that calls for a pick-me-up present. 
He buys you apology gifts when you have to open a door by yourself because he isn’t around. 
Christmas is his time to SHINE. 
He approaches it like it’s an Olympic sport that he needs to win otherwise he’s unworthy of being your man. 
Shops early as hell so that the things you want don’t sell out. 
Not above throwing hands if he needs to snag the last of your items. 
Your wishlist is essentially a binding vow to him and if he doesn’t fulfill it, he’ll die. 
Horrible at hiding them because he gets so overwhelmed with excitement that he wants you to see what he got you right away. The gifts don't even get wrapped.
By the time Christmas actually arrives, his presents are the only ones under the tree because he forced you to open all of yours prior.
He tried to control himself, but at some point he literally starts waking you up in the middle of the night because he will not sleep out of pure adrenaline.
SO DRAMATIC. He practically gives you his presents like he’s acting out a Shakespearean play. 
He’ll kneel, bow, and grandly bestow each present upon you with two hands.  
Your reactions mean the world to him. 
Each time you get all giggly and happy opening gift after gift, his heart swells. 
He could deadass start crying tears of joy right then and there tbh. 
Those reactions are his gift. 
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© all rights reserved to fushic0re ─ do not repost, translate, copy, or plagiarize my work in any form.
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thatsdemko · 10 months ago
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my valentine - o.piastri
masterlist | pairing: Oscar piastri x fem!reader
summary: a red lacy Valentine’s Day seems to be just the kind of thing Oscar needs…
warnings: not intended for minors + oral (f receiving) + talks of Valentine’s Day + some errors here or there
a/n: I’m baaaack! while I know this isn’t the part two to the secret Santa that’ll hopefully be here soon I’m having some trouble writing that rn… but please enjoy this!!!
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what did men like on Valentine’s Day? was it lace? was it red? or was it just sex? you couldn’t decide the answer. while you stood dumbfounded and dripping in nervous sweat inside the Victoria secret, it left you no choice but to leave and hope scrolling on Amazon wouldn’t lead to the same amount of panic and overwhelm.
you’d wanted to make Valentine’s Day perfect for Oscar. with all of his training and simulator work he’s been doing this winter break, you figured he deserved something special. you perused store upon store for the ideal lingerie for that special Wednesday night, but came up with nothing.
“you’re back from the mall awfully early.” Oscar comments hearing his apartment door shut behind you.
“really? felt like I was there for ages.” you huff out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the couch, “if you were wanting something for Valentine’s Day, what would it be?” you ask staring into his big brown eyes.
a laugh escapes his lips. he’s told you infinite amount of times he wanted nothing for the silly hallmark day. he just wanted a nice meal and some quiet time with you. what more could a man ask for? it was a door you never wanted to open, but you knew there was more to it.
“please don’t buy me anything—“
“oh no it’s not like that.” you cut him off, the heat returns to your cheeks when he looks over at you with a knowing look. you sink further into the couch cushions hoping to disappear, but his eyes stay glued to your growing redness.
“well then I guess I’ve always liked the color red on you.”
the red lace underneath your pajamas is uncomfortable. you’re unsure how anyone woman could deal with the deep wedge of material up their ass, and the sheer itching against their stomachs, but you figure you can power through. it’s just one night— well that’s unless Oscar decides the 10 dollar red lace bodysuit was to stay permanently.
you hear the lock of your apartment free, and the door swing behind him indicating Oscar and the carry out food had arrived.
“darling, where are you?” he calls out from the kitchen, and taking no time to wait for you. he’s unpacked the styrofoam containers from the bag, opening his box, he takes in a few bites of food that attempted to spill out the container.
reaching for a napkin to clean up his mess, he quickly glances up to see if you’ve made your way in only to stop in his tracks, jaw nearly smack to the floor at the sight of red.
“you look—“ he doesn’t get the chance to begin, there’s not a word he can find to finish the sentence, because whatever it was he was already feeling against his pants.
moving around the counter, he finds himself in front of you where he can see just how much you’re doing to him with so little. a giggle escapes your lips as you pull his face to yours, “did you want to eat first?” you ask.
shaking his head he whispers a no, before placing his hands against your hips, finger tips gently trail the red lace up your body, “I want you first.”
it’s not a long walk to your bedroom, but it feels like ages for him. every second he doesn’t have his hands on you is a waste, and when he finally does get them, it’s not wasted removing the lace from your body revealing every part of you faster than you expected him to do.
he takes the second to fumble with the condom, his fingers shake with anticipation, it’s almost like the first time you’d done it in your relationship. the nerves got to you both, trying to figure out what worked and didn’t, but now, you’d say your pros. knowing the ins and outs of each others bodies, like how he favored your lips around his dick and you liked his fingers inside of you. with time, you learned all of this.
this was a gift on its own, one that had him dripping in precum and aching to get inside you. and when the condom finally was secured, he, once again, didn’t waste a second to find your cunt and fuck you.
his hips grind against yours creating warmth between your bodies. his hair falls across his forehead that you can barely see with the blur of pleasure in your eyes.
he doesn’t say much. he never does, but he doesn’t hesitate to praise you, adore you, and remind you of how lucky he is.
“you’re so good to me,” he’s saying, transitioning from being inside you, his lips travel across your warm skin all the way down to your hips. his fingers gently nudge your thighs open, and you get the hint, “let me do this for you, my valentine.”
you’re unsure if it was the kisses, the words, or his warm tongue against your wet folds, but one of them got the air stuck in your throat. there’s nothing more than you love than the sound of Oscar eating you out. the slurps, the hum— all of it. the sounds were pleasing to your ears, even more so than the action itself you were gripping the sheets.
he’s edging you, playing you. its ridiculous and maybe you deserve it. after all, you’d put the idea of you in red in his head days ago and he’d been unable to concentrate. the patterns of floral dancing across your chest, a low cut neckline, he’d wanted it all— or none of it if you’d decided that. but you deserved this in some way. you’d been the one to send his dick rock hard any hour or second of the day.
“osc,” the moan comes out more like a pity plea. the chuckle against your pussy sent a chill down your spine and a twirl in your stomach. so you deserved that much, you thought, but this? not letting you come? too much.
“I’m gonna come,” the words spill as does the warmth out of you, his face covered in you wasn’t something he could ever be mad about, but not giving him the chance to edge you? you’ll be paying for that later.
“I wasn’t finished.” he slides a finger inside, barely giving you time to rest and recover, “you fucked with my mind all week.” he groans at the very sight of you from a couple minutes ago. he wished he’d taken a picture, saved it for later, but he was too antsy. his pants did the thinking more than his head. and that’s why he’s stuck his finger in your pussy.
he loves the sound of you. moans, groans, whines, whatever it was. he knew you liked the way he rubbed your clit, the way he kept going until he felt the shake of the frame against him, and that’s when he removed his fingers letting you come.
“what a jackass.” you swear closing your legs up and pushing yourself up off the mattress to find your clothes, “didn’t even let me cum on your fingers, like it’s not Valentine’s Day—“
he shuts you up with a soft kiss, “I think we should eat first before another round.” his words hang in the air as he watches the anger sizzle out of you, “and I want you in that red thing again.”
“anything for you, my valentine.”
tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @leclerc13 @smoothopz @imsorare @lpab @lunnnix @frreyaa
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foxy-eva · 1 year ago
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Snow Angel
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Summary: Reader really knows how to get Spencer in a festive mood
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Fluff, Smut
Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) a hint at Spencer’s sad childhood, food mentions, heavy kissing, oral (fem receiving), handjob, unprotected penetrative sex
Author’s Note: This is my gift for @drgenius-reid ! I wrote it as a part of this year’s Criminal Minds gift exchange @cmgiftexchange
Word Count: 1.5k
Masterlist
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Spencer’s hand kept mine warm as we walked along a snow-covered path in the park. Seeing everything covered in a soft, white layer really got me in a festive mood, excited to have someone to spend the holidays with this year. 
“So, Christmas is in a few days. Do you have any plans?” I wondered while gently squeezing his hand. 
He turned his head to find my eyes as he cooed, “I was hoping to spend it with you.”
“I would really like that.” 
He smiled at me for a brief moment before he averted his eyes to look at the snow beneath his feet. After taking a deep breath, he asked, “Can I tell you something?” 
“Anything.”
Spencer stopped his movements to be able to fully look at me while he said, “Growing up in the desert with a sick mom, Christmas always felt like any other day to me. I never understood what people meant when they talked about how magical this time of year is. That was until I met you. I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with you.”
I placed my arms around his neck to find his lips in a chaste kiss before whispering, “I love you.” 
His breath felt hot against my face when he breathed, “I love you, too.” 
It was then that I decided to make it my mission to show him how magical Christmas could be. There was so much about this time of year that he probably never got to experience and I was adamant to change that. 
“Let’s make snow angels!” I chirped and was met with a surprised look. 
“What?” 
Without further explanation I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the ground with me. He watched my motions for a moment before he lay down in the snow himself, mirroring what I was doing. We both couldn’t hold back the fit of laughter falling from our lips. 
When we got up from the ground, we took a moment to admire two perfect snow angels before rushing back to my apartment. Spencer’s cheeks were rosy when we got back into the comfort of my home, signaling that he was just as cold as I was. 
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the cold,” he muttered as he took off his damp coat. 
“I know a way to warm you up,” I told him. “Why don’t you take a blanket and wait for me on the couch.” 
When I returned to him with a mug of hot cocoa, he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “I thought you had had something else in mind.”
“Naughty boy!” I laughed as I sat down beside him. “Don’t you know that Santa only brings presents to good boys?” 
He just shrugged as he took the mug and said, “I’m okay with that, I already have everything I could wish for.”
I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before I turned on the TV to put on the corniest Christmas romcom I could find. 
“Snow angels - check! Next on my agenda to experience the Christmas spirit are hot cocoa and terrible Christmas movies,” I announced. 
Spencer playfully rolled his eyes but I knew that he was enjoying my enthusiasm. He took the blanket to place it over the both of us before wrapping one arm around me to keep me close to him. 
When a scene of the main characters decorating a Christmas tree came on, I decided that we should do that, too. “We should get a Christmas tree for your apartment,” I let him know. “We could decorate it with purple ornaments.” 
“That sounds really nice.”
I adjusted my position inside his arms until I could fully look at him to tell him, “And we need to bake cookies! I have a recipe for the best chocolate chip cookies you’ll ever taste.”
“Cookies sound great-,” Spencer agreed before finding my lips to mumble against them, “- but I’d rather have you right now.” 
The movie playing in the background was quickly forgotten as we deepened our kiss. His lips felt soft and demanding at the same time and when his tongue met mine it was as if we melted into one another. It only took a few moments until I noticed a familiar warmth rushing through my body, making me eager to feel more of him. My hand wandered to the hem of his sweater, dipping beneath it to feel the heat of his skin. 
“Are you still cold?” I breathed into the kiss. 
“No.”
I broke the kiss to smirk at him as I purred, “Good. That means you can take your sweater off.” 
Spencer chuckled at my words but did as I said. Slowly we helped each other shed each layer of clothing until there was nothing left to separate our bodies as we lay beside one another on the couch.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he purred as he kissed down my neck. 
His hands began exploring the curves of my breasts and I felt him smiling against my skin when I answered his touches with the sounds of my pleasure. His fingertips were soon replaced by his lips as he kissed every inch of my skin within reach. Gently, he pushed apart my thighs and lay down between them before he began nipping and licking along my inner thighs. 
I knew that I was dripping with desire at this point but Spencer took his time to tease me. I was sure he didn’t do it on purpose. It wasn’t the first time that he lost track of time worshipping me, his eyes always filled with wonder when he kissed along all the curves and dips my body had to offer.
“Please…,” I finally whimpered. “I need you.” 
It was as if my words had snapped him out of a trance. He mumbled, “Sorry,” against my thigh before his mouth finally focussed on my center. My hands flew to his head, my fingers intertwining with his curls as he brought me closer to my breaking point. I dared to look down at him and moaned at the sight of half of his face buried between my thighs. It looked downright sinful. 
It took just a few more moments of his skillful motions until I entered a state of pure bliss. Spencer’s hands grabbed my hips to keep me steady as he guided me through my high. When my body began relaxing underneath him, he placed a few more soft kisses against my folds before finding his home inside my arms. 
I was quick to reach down to find his hardness, making him shudder at the sudden touch. My fingers wrapped around him and began moving just the way I knew he liked. My motions were immediately rewarded by his sighs and groans. When I let my thumb brush over his leaking tip, he whined my name against my neck. 
“Tell me what you want, love,” I cooed as I kept stroking him. 
“I–,” he whimpered as he locked eyes with me. “I… wanna be inside you. Please.” 
“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 
It took him a few seconds to process my words. The thought that I had the ability to make the smartest and most eloquent man I knew forget everything else but me made me smile. He repositioned himself until he was kneeling between my legs, taking a moment to let his eyes wander over my body. 
“I’m so lucky,” he purred as he leaned over me. “So lucky to have you.” 
I reached between our bodies to guide him to my entrance. He took his time entering my body, a sigh falling from his lips with every inch that disappeared inside me. When he was fully inside me, he leaned down to kiss me. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him even closer against me until there was no distance to be found between us. 
Slowly we began moving, our hips grinding against one another in perfect synchronicity. We got lost inside each other’s arms. As our bodies merched there was no way of telling where my body ended and his began. Together we chased the sweet relief with heavy breaths and accelerated motions until we fell over the edge together. 
Each of the pulses of my walls around him was answered with him throbbing inside me, sharing his warmth with me until he had nothing left to give. He collapsed into my arms and buried his face into the crook of my neck as he tried to even out his breathing. Our bodies stayed connected for as long as possible but we had to let go of each other eventually. 
After cleaning up I found my home inside Spencer’s arms, my head resting on his chest. His heart was still beating faster than usual but it slowed down after a few more moments. 
“I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you,” he whispered. “And every holiday after that.” 
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Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.
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Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @purpledsky @super-nerd22 @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie
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solarmorrigan · 2 months ago
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Deck the Halls - Spooky Scary Remix
For the @steddie-spooktober day 7 prompt: Skeleton Rated: G | Words: 682 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a menace Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics
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“Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
“Those are skeletons.”
“They sure are.”
With an air of satisfaction, Eddie deposits the two life-size, plastic skeletons onto the couch, where they preside over the boxes of decorations sitting on the living room floor like a bony king and queen (or two kings. Or two queens. Steve guesses he can’t say for sure, since they’re skeletons).
“Eddie, it’s December,” Steve says.
“You know, your observational skills are one of the things I really love about you,” Eddie shoots back.
“Fuck off,” Steve snaps, with no real heat. “We’re supposed to be decorating for Christmas.”
“And so we shall!” Eddie claps his hands together. “Where should we start?”
“Let’s start with why there are skeletons on the couch,” Steve says, and Eddie tsks, like Steve is the one being weird.
“We’re going to decorate with them, obviously.”
“Skeletons are for Halloween, not Christmas.”
Eddie eyes Steve with that shrewd tilt to his mouth that never bodes well for Steve’s chances in an argument. “Says who?”
“Uh, everyone?”
“Oh, everyone. Is that all?” Eddie waves his hand dismissively. “You know, skeletons don’t stop existing just because it’s not October. In fact, I’ve got news for you, baby.” He steps closer to Steve, bringing his hands up to Steve’s hips and giving them a squeeze before leaning in to whisper, “there’s a skeleton inside of you right now.”
Steve scrunches his nose up in distaste. “Don’t say it like that,” he implores, and Eddie snickers.
“Too late, thought’s in your head now.” He leans in and pecks a kiss to Steve’s cheek before stepping away. “Besides, I have a plan to deal with the Christmas skeleton nay-sayers such as yourself!”
He goes to dig through the plastic shopping bags he’d come home from the store with, where Steve had only sent him to get another box of lights and some extra hooks for the gutters, not these new spooky-scary interlopers, who are still sitting on the couch, eyeing Steve with their empty sockets.
“Where did you even get these things, anyway?” Steve asks as Eddie digs.
“They were on sale, can you believe it?” Eddie says. “No one wanted the poor, bony bastards, so I brought ‘em home. Aha!”
From the depths of the rustling plastic Eddie unearths his treasure: two fur-trimmed Santa hats.
With what seems to Steve like a disproportionate amount of delight, Eddie sets about placing the hats onto the two bare, plastic skulls, tugging them around carefully and setting the pompoms at jaunty angles before he steps aside and gestures with a theatrical sweep of his arms.
“What d’you think?”
Steve blinks at two festive skeletons on the couch. What does he think?
He thinks that they only moved into this house a few months ago, and he doesn’t want anyone in the neighborhood to think they’re weird.
Which– okay, they are weird. Obviously. Everyone is going to find out. But Steve had been hoping that the idea could sort of bake in; that they’d have time to settle and become a part of the community before everyone figures it out, so they’d have a better chance of not getting frozen out. He’d had a plan.
But then again– Eddie is standing there grinning at Steve, so hopeful and pleased with himself, practically begging Steve to tag along with him on his weird little endeavor, and honestly? Steve would rather live as a socially ostracized hermit until the end of his days than make Eddie unhappy.
“I think you’d better find a good place outside to put them, and they’d better stay there, because if I wake up one morning and find out you moved one of those things outside our bedroom window, or somewhere inside the house, I’m divorcing you,” Steve says.
If anything, Eddie’s smile only grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby,” he says, his tone implying that he absolutely would.
All the same, Steve allows himself to be smothered with grateful kisses, and braces himself to deal with “mysteriously” moving Christmas skeletons for the rest of the season.
The things he does for love.
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ebony-blood · 7 months ago
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Poly!The Lost Boys x Reader 
Warnings/AN: They’re a packaged deal, ofc you’re getting all four. Yandere/obsessive stuff because they’re just like that. I tried to be as gender-neutral as possible, lemme know if I need to fix anything.
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You have been in Santa Carla for about a year now, you wanna know how long it took for the boys to fall for you? 2 months
Paul fell first, bro spent a whole 2 hours daily rambling to Marko about how much he loved you, how perfect you were in his eyes, how cute you were…
Gender doesn’t matter to these rat bastards, you’re still Paul’s Cutie
Marko fell next, listening to Paul rant about your utter perfection, thus, he started believing you were an angel, literally an angel.
And that’s when the two boys started stalking you, following you around the boardwalk and practically growling at anyone that approached, male, female, whatever
Paul practically has heart eyes every time he sees you, every single time.
Dwayne is next, and he falls WAY harder than the other two
Mr. Tall, dark and handsome over here will follow you home daily, he waits for nightfall and comes out to see you, when he’s not with his brothers, he’s around you.
He may as well be lying on a bed, writing in a notebook about how much he loves you, giggling and kicking his feet like a schoolgirl
So, the three that AREN’T David fall in love with you in two months, David followed shortly behind, and only a month after Dwayne fell, David was fucking INFATUATED.
He has it BAD, like, god, it’s even worse than his brothers.
Eventually, all four of the boys decide they wanna talk to you, and goddammit the minute you open your mouth they’re even more in love with you. 
And so, they start leaving you anonymous gifts, roses, jewelry, Marko paints for you, anything they can think of, they’ll steal it and leave it on your porch. 
It took a few months, but when you realized they were giving you the gifts, you started hanging out with them more, and soon, you were taken to the cave.
They loved you, obviously.
It took almost no time for you to fall for their silly personalities, and that was when they knew they had you.
They became protective, but not outwardly obsessive.
At least, you thought so. 
After they started dating you, they started getting worse in their stalking.
They had a system, every other week, sometimes months between instances, one of them would silently stalk you, keeping hidden in the dark, and one or two of them would pretend to bump into you when you start freaking out.
You were always too freaked out to ask how they were there.
You found out they were vampires when you caught them killing and feeding on a guy who had been actually stalking you. You were freaked out at first.
Eventually, David managed to calm you, promising they would never hurt or kill you.
Now that we’re past all the meetings, falling, stalking, and so on, here’s the actual cute stuff. 
Paul and Marko
These rat fucks are literally never not by your side. 
They bite you, randomly grab you, kiss you, just whenever they want, it doesn’t matter. 
Both boys steal things from you, all the time
Clothes, blankets, stuffed animals, books, your perfume/cologne/body spray, makeup if you wear it, whatever they can get their hands on, it’s with them.
You slowly start noticing them wearing your clothes, your perfume/cologne/body spray, and you ask about it. They always deny having it.
If you wear it, they put on your lipstick or lipgloss before they kiss you, because they think it's funny. 
Paul started trying to get you to smoke with him. 
Marko paints you like constantly, and anytime he catches you watching or looking at him, he has the most lovestruck and goofy look on his face.
Both fantasize about you 24/7 and just bounce stuff off of each other. 
They definitely bite you the most
65% of the bitemarks on you are from them, and 35% are from the other two boys.
Cuddle you the most.
Tease you the most
Teasing nips are greetings to them
Both have very little consistency in pet names for you, they just pick whatever.
Dwayne
The sweetest, and the biggest stalker ever.
Bro follows you around constantly. 
He doesn’t allow you to ride on the back of Paul and Marko's bikes, it's either him or David.
Holds your hands all the time
Gives you his jacket all the time.
You get cold? Take his jacket. Getting outta the ocean after Paul tossed you in? Take his jacket.
Smiles every time he sees you. 
Also takes your perfume/cologne/body spray, sprays himself down, and snuggles into clothes you wear he stole when he wanted to snuggle with you.
Acts totally normal around you but is a giggly schoolgirl when talking about you with the boys.
Brings you food and drinks daily, if he doesn’t know if you’ve eaten, you bet your ass he’s bringing you food.
About 15% of your bites are from him. 
Constantly makes sure you care for yourself.
Not into PDA but will hold your hands daily.
Bro has a mix of songs that reminds him of you.
Calls you stuff like Darling and Honey, he just gives those vibes.
David
OHHHH DEAR GOD-
David is worse than Dwayne, Marko, and Paul combined.
Stalks you, constantly, and he always makes sure you know he’s there.
Sassy, sarcastic, an asshole, we know this, but this carries over to you too.
Bro sasses you all the time.
Dude treats you like he treated Star, bro will just stare at you, if you don’t respond or do as he’s implying, he just calls your name again, and again, until he eventually just snaps in your face, not shouting, but literally snapping.
Nips at your ears, neck, and shoulders
Teases you, all the time, constantly for no reason. Like if you trip bro is laughing and he doesn’t even help your ass up. 
He does care though, he loves you so SO much.
The dude actually takes his damn gloves off to touch you sometimes! That NEVER happens!
Isn’t into PDA, at all, his hands stay securely in your back pockets or with his fingers through your belt loops, you are not leaving his side, if he isn’t around you bet your ass you’re sticking with Dwayne.
Will randomly give you things, Bro gave you one of his old tee shirts and he gets very pouty if you don’t wear it around.
He is not a sweet boy, but also a sweet guy, if you wear down his walls and wiggle your way into his heart, you will NEVER leave.
He’s terrified of being alone, if you leave for even a second, the man almost melts down. 
Calls you stuff like Babe, Baby, and Doll, doll is used no matter your gender, he won’t stop.
One more because our first one for Davie here also brings you food but fucks with you like he did with Micheal. He does keep extras if you actually freak out about it but after a certain point in your time with the boys, you start leaning into the goofiness. 
All four of them
Only a few here.
The boys are cuddlers, if they stay with you in your house, (You have blackout curtains) they are wrapped around you, Paul and Marko are damn well laying on top of you.
Will scream at any bastard on the boardwalk that even LOOKS at you wrong.
They fight anyone at all, for any reason, for everything, at all for you.
These nerds rant about everything they love, David will scream about how much he loves Billy Idol at any time, Marko talks about art all the damn time, Paul will just rant about how fucking much he loves guitarists like Mick Mars, Ace Frehley, and Eddie Van Halen, and Dwayne talks about books. All four always have stars in their eyes when talking, it's so cute. 
The rats started rubbing off on you, you’re crazy now, you ride bikes, and you yell, and scream with all of the boys.
When they do turn you, it amplifies by 20.
Your favorite activity is hanging off the bridge with the boys and biking. 
You eventually get your own, they were hesitant, but eh.
They love biking with you, and then you all either hang from the wood beams while sleeping or snuggle up in your bed and sleep peacefully. You wearing one of their jackets of course.
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lucentloo · 20 days ago
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Gift Giving
Summary: Spencer and reader share the love language of gift giving, however, Spencer seems to get reader gifts that she feels like she shouldn’t have since she can’t afford the same for him. 
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Wc: 1740
Content Warnings: Female reader, somewhat poor reader, not feeling good enough, gift giving love language for both Spencer and reader, no y/n, first fic ever, there might be swearing but I doubt it, season 6/7 Spencer, reader works in a restaurant, that should be all (If I’ve missed any please tell me)
a/n: I'm sorry if this sucks really bad but it's my first time writing and I thought I'd give it a try, thank you for reading and if you have any tips for me to get any better please share, have a nice day/night!
You’re staring at the small box on your counter as you hold the phone to your ear waiting for Spencer to pick up. The case he's working on is a crazy one though so you don't have much hope. You wait a few more seconds before giving up and stopping the call. The box on the counter is black with a pristine white ribbon tied and a bow on top. This is the third gift this month from your boyfriend and he doesn’t even have a reason.
You chew your lip as your eyes narrow at the box as if your glare could make it disappear from your kitchen. But alas, it stays exactly where it is. 
You don't hate the gifts, in fact gift giving is one of your love languages, you just feel so guilty that you can’t give Spencer anything back. You’ve tried to buy him something nice one time but that left you without food for a week and you couldn’t do that again without starving yourself. 
With a sigh you grab the box with the silver necklace and make your way to your bedroom to get ready for bed. After you shower and get into your pajamas (Spencer's hoodie and fuzzy socks) you climb into bed and contemplate what to do.
Ever since you were little you were always the kid with the worst birthday present at parties, or you were never the wished upon secret santa at christmas. You don’t have enough money to lavish your love on Spencer like you wish you did. It made you feel bad whenever you got something knowing you couldn’t get him anything like it in return.
You turn on your side and try to push away that persistent feeling that you’re not doing enough, that Spencer deserves someone who can afford to love him. Eventually you grow too tired to think anymore and slip your eyes shut. Sleep comes easier than it should that night and you’re only woken by your alarm early in the morning.
Spencer was worried.
He usually feels at ease with you and knows he can trust you to take care of yourself when he’s gone. However, this week you’ve barely seen him let alone your own bed. Anytime Spencer calls to hang out or take you out on a date he’s interrupted by a, “sorry handsome I’ve picked up the night shift,” or, “I’m filling in for Sandy since she’s out for the day, sorry baby,” and he can’t seem to find a time, day or night, that you’re available.
So he comes up with the only solution. He’s going to your work to forcefully pull you away from your job and take you to his apartment. When he gets there he’s surprised to see that the restaurant is quiet and not bustling like usual. He only spots two people eating at a table and one server walking around. That server isn’t you.
Spencer walks up to the server, Kate, and asks if you’re on break.
Kate looks at Spencer in surprise. “Um no, she left a few minutes ago to go home. The boss made her, apparently she’s been here for, like, three days straight.” she says the last part in a whisper like she’s gossiping to her friend in her high school cafeteria.
Spencer nods and whispers a quick “Thank you” before going back out to the parking lot. He knew he saw your car when he drove in here and decides to check the employees parking, just for reassurance.
Sure enough when he got there he saw your car parked right in front of the back entrance. The car was on and it looked like it was ready to go at any minute. Spencer furrowed his brows as he got closer and looked through your window. There you were, in your car with your uniform still on, sleeping like a baby.
Spencer smiled despite his concern, admiring your peaceful state in the quiet of the night. He doesn’t want to wake you from your sleep knowing it’s probably the most you’ve gotten all week but he needs to make sure you’re okay. 
Spencer knocks on your window and gives a slight chuckle when you jump up in shock. He smiles awkwardly and gives a little wave as you look at him with hard eyes that turn soft when you realize who it is. You unlock the door and step out with a stretch. You yawn before slumping against Spencer.
“Hey baby, why are you sleeping in your car?” Spencer asks softly. He’s trying not to wake you up too much as he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you upright. His heartbeat soothes you enough to let you stay in the drowsy state you find yourself in. Spencer feels you lean more weight on him as your arms encircle his slender form.
“Got off work and felt too tired to drive home.” It was hard to understand you since your face was pressed against Spencer's chest but he heard you well enough to look down at you in concern. He held onto you tighter as he sighed before bending down to pick you up. 
“Let’s get you home sweet girl,” Spencer whispers into your ear as you shut your eyes again and fall back asleep. 
When you wake up the next morning the first thing you register is Spencer's arms around your torso and his breaths blowing down your neck. You groan and shield your eyes from the sun that shines through the curtain and turn your body until you’re cuddled up into Spencer's hold. Your face is pushed into his chest to better hide yourself from the light. 
Spencer shifts slightly and you feel his hand start rubbing up and down the expense of your back. You take a breath in and you’re immediately comforted by the familiar smell of Spencer. He somehow still smells like coffee despite just waking up and he’s got the lingering smell of his cologne that he wore the night before.
 You pull back slowly to look into at him with a small smile before recognition flashes through your eyes. “I’m not at work,” you whisper to Spencer, “I had an early shift today, Spence, baby, I need to be at work.” You try to untangle yourself from Spencer’s tight hold on you but don’t succeed. “Spencer, I'm not joking. I need to leave.”
Spencer shakes his head. “No.”
You look at him, not amused. “No?”
Spencer shakes his head again as his arms hold you impossibly tighter. “No.”
You sigh and stop struggling. Finally looking into his eyes you see the confusion and concern that’s directed at you. And damn does that make you feel guilty. The little seed that was planted at the beginning of the week just keeps growing and growing.
Spencer seems to sense the conflict you feel and kisses the top of your head. “I need you to take a break and tell me what’s going on. You’ve been distant and short with me, and I miss you, I want to see you.” Spencer whispers the confession in the silent room and it makes you tear up a little.
Your head lowers as you try to hide yourself under his blanket. The embarrassment floods through you as guilt eats your inside whole. “I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to say to him. 
Spencer hums in acknowledgment before sitting up and bringing you with him. He sits you on his lap so you’re facing him and he lifts your chin so he can peer into your eyes. “Baby, there’s no need to say sorry, just tell me what's going on in that head of yours, hm?” 
You take a shaky breath in before slowly letting it out to keep your tears at bay. The attempt seems futile though as you can’t seem to hold it together. “I can’t get you anything nice.” You say in a whimper as small sobs escape your lips and you hide your face in his neck.
Spencer’s lips turn down in concern as he thinks about what you just said. His thumb draws small circles on your waist as he contemplates how to go about this. “What do you mean sweetie? You give me nice things all the time.” Spencer tries to point out the things you’ve given him in the past - cookies, a new tie, the pen he uses every day - but it just makes you feel even worse. Those are things that shouldn’t even be considered gifts, let alone nice ones.
“No, n-no, you always get me these necklaces and, and books, and things that I could never afford.” Your sobs interrupt your speech slightly but It doesn’t deter you. “I just want to repay you, give you something nice for a, a change but instead I wo-worry you.” You burst into tears again as you squeeze Spencer tighter.
“Woah, woah, okay, hey, it’s okay. Baby I don’t need those kinds of gifts, I just need you. Is that why you were overworking yourself?” Spencer asks in a worried tone. His lips find the top of your head again as you nod your head against his neck. You hear him sigh before pulling back slightly. You raise your head to look at him and he wipes your tears away when he cups your cheek.
“Your health and happiness come way before an object I don’t even need.” He says in a stern yet soft voice. You lower your head to hide your face but he moves his head as well to keep eye contact. “Hey, I’m being serious, I don’t want you to work yourself crazy just to afford a gift. You’re way too important to me.” Spencer whispers the last part before giving you a soft kiss. 
You sigh after the kiss and look up at Spencer. “But that’s how I show my love, I don’t see you a lot so I like to give you gifts.” Spencer smiles as his thumb strokes your cheek.
“So keep giving me cookies and pens, they really do make my day.” Spencer goes in for another kiss that has you smiling more than you have in days. 
“Okay,” You whisper against his mouth.
Spencer kisses your cheek, then nose, then your other cheek, then your eyebrows, he does this until you’re a giggling mess. “I love you so much.” He finally says as he kisses your lips again.
“I love you too.”
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pigcowboys · 11 months ago
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secret santa !
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pairing: percy jackson x female!reader
summary: camp half-blood decides to do secret santa this year.
warning(s): pre-established relationship and kissing but, none, mostly!
a/n: merry (late) christmas to everyone who celebrates it!! this was supposed to be out on christmas day but.. uh yeah. this is slightly self-indulgent.
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“you’re doing it right?” you asked, adjusting your position on your bunk bed as you tried your best to scrub out the nasty maroon stain you’d spilled onto the fabric.
it was almost christmas day and with that important birthday coming up, it meant only one thing for you, gift shopping. not that you hated it — honestly. it was just the idea of somehow disappointing your friends.
the stakes were higher this year considering the fact chiron had brought up the idea of doing a secret santa with the rest of the camp. everyone voted in agreement the idea — well, except for clovis but, to be fair he wasn’t conscious when the announcement was made.
soon after it was set in stone that the camp would be hosting its very first secret santa and then following that, everyone was assigned a partner.
piper got annabeth, annabeth got leo, leo got piper and somehow travis stoll had gotten clarisse. that last part was going to be interesting. you even got someone as well, too. not that it made you anxious at all, you loved gifting people presents — great at it, dare you say.
well, it was a bit easier to gift people presents when you didn’t have to worry about whether or not your gift would somehow make the person hate you and question why they even started dating you in the first place.
so, it was safe to say you weren’t especially overjoyed when you got percy as your secret santa. your mind went blank as you shifted to the side, allowing percy to slide past you to reach for his paper with his santa.
you eyed him curiously as he stared at the words on the paper indifferently before a smile flashed onto his face. he turned the paper so your eyes had access to it clearly, completely missing the moment when your heart dropped.
"we got each other," percy said, tucking the paper into his pocket. "that's lucky, right?" you merely laughed nervously in response.
"yeah, totally." not lucky, not lucky at all.
“everyone is,” annabeth started “why? are you changing your mind?” annabeth asked, causing you to frown slightly.
“well, no..i think.” you trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as you flung your sponge to the side. gods, you seriously hoped this would wash out after a while.
“i wouldn’t wanna spoil the fun.”
“plus, you’re curious about what your secret santa might’ve gotten you.” annabeth chimed in.
“that too.” you replied. "any idea what percy might have in mind?"
annabeth merely hummed in response leaving you even more conflicted than before. what if he gets you an amazing gift and all you get him is some crap that he'll say he loves, a fake smile on his face before dumping it somewhere in his cabin 'till the next secret santa.
you didn't want to be that girlfriend. you actively rebuke any allegations that may have even brought that idea up.
“i am so screwed.” you sobbed out, pressing your fingers against your face as you sighed dramatically.
“you have time, use it.” annabeth reminded you. she was right, it was only 2 days till christmas day and even then, secret santa wasn’t going to happen till later into the evening.
“just don’t use too much, shopping places are never open for late minute gifts.”
“right, okay..” you murmured out. "i have time."
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those 2 days came and went sooner than you expected it to and by christmas day morning, you were frantically wrapping up percy’s gift, thoughts racing as you tried to not think about whether or not the gift would be cool enough for him.
he’s be happy with anything you got him, you knew that. didn’t make ease your mind any less, though. you stumbled out of your cabin as you rushed towards the decorated tree that was out near the forest, courtesy of the demeter kids.
to be honest, even if you liked christmas or disliked it, everyone could appreciate the effort put into decorating the tree. especially with all the presents stacked under - it added to the scene. you bent down, carefully placing it underneath the tree, not too close so that it would obviously stick out, but not too far that people would forget it was there.
this was a big camp, after all.
you'd made your way over the mess hall, scanning over it for any signs of percy before taking a plate and shoving food onto it. you spared a part for your godly parent and then made your way toward the table to sit with everyone else.
even with percy missing, the mess hall was still lively - believe it or not. everyone seemed to be talking lively about their gifts and what they were expecting, something that didn't ease your anxieties about your own gift.
it didn't help at all when your eyes finally settled on percy's own across the room, a small smile pulling on his face as he tended to his plate. your mind had been so zeroed in on worrying you hadn't even clued in on the fact he was walking over to you, taking a seat beside you.
"thanks for saving me a seat." you fought back a smile at the sound of his tired voice. he must've been knocked out sometime after sword practice. you hummed in response, fiddling with your food as your mind raced.
your eyes drifted towards percy as you watched him silently from the corner of your eyes. between the bed hair and the disheveled state of his clothes, it was safe to say that he had just woken up. despite the anxieties that swirled in your mind and the ansty fidgeting of your legs, you couldn't deny that percy was gorgeous.
though, it just brought your mind back to your dilemma. secret santa would happen right after dinner and then would be campfire time. how could you sit and sing songs at the campfire knowing percy had hated your gift?
"you're being stranger than usual, y'know."
"hm?" you turned to look at percy who gave you a quizzical look. "i'm acting completely normal."
"you've barely touched your food."
you stared down at your plate, it looked like a ghost had gently floated over it - devoid of human ingestion.
"i'm not hungry." you lied, slapping yourself mentally when your stomach growled deeply.
"mhm.." percy nodded along, trying to suppress the smile on his face. "what's wrong?" he asked, pushing his plate aside as he turned his whole body to face you, something that didn't go unnoticed by you as you locked eyes with him.
"just..thinking."
"about?"
you narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the tingling in your chest as you watched him carefully. you really hoped he hadn't caught onto the fact you were just checking him out at this point, turning your face away in embarrassment as you rested your head on your elbows,
"stuff."
"what kind of stuff?"
"important stuff."
"like what?"
"percy, will you leave me alone!" a laugh, followed by his hand brushing against your back soothingly. you titled your head up to look at him as your head rested on your elbows.
"sorry, sorry." he smiled. "just hang in there, okay?" was all he whispered in your ear before moving back to press a sloppy kiss to your head that made your face scrunch in disgust.
"gross...you're so disgusting, percy.." you murmur, wiping the wet blotch of spit that was left on your forehead from the kiss.
"i love you too."
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"what'd you think you got?" piper asked, shifting in her seat slightly as she waited for annabeth to respond.
"you're asking me like you don't know what i got." annabeth replied with a small smile.
"can't hurt to imagine."
you zoned out the rest of the conversation as you suppressed the urge to scream out of frustration. the camp chatted lively around you, cueing you in on the fact that you'd been cuddled up beside percy without once offering a word to him.
not that he minded, he was aware you wanted to be with your thoughts and he respected it. just..didn't feel very..couple appropriate. it felt like you'd been talking to yourself way more than the guy who was supposed to be your boyfriend.
"quiet down," chiron's voice rang through all the chatter, reducing the crowd to silence. he'd somehow managed to shimmy matching ugly christmas sweaters onto him and mr. d respectively. the image alone made you want to pull out your phone and snap a picture.
though, you decided against it, taking notice of the death glares mr.d had sent your way.
chiron announced that secret santa would be happening in a bit, receiving a series of cheers from some campers in the crowd. you shifted slightly in percy's hold, prompting him to look at you - a curious look on his face.
"you okay?"
"yeah, it's just kind of cold, i guess."
percy hummed in response before pulling you into him so you were resting against his chest. he rested his chin on your head with a small smile.
“is this better?” he whispered, to which you merely hummed in response, snuggling yourself against him as you tried to get comfortable. now, you weren’t a fan of those overly lovely couples that couldn’t keep their hands off each other in public but, you had to admit that being in percy’s arms felt more than good with the day you’ve had.
chiron continued on with his announcements, listing out the series of activities tomorrow and also stating as well that the stables would be closed on account of an “accident” that had happened in there. that part was received with a small shiver.
“that’s all i’d like to say, furthermore, I’d like to wish everyone a merry christmas.” then, chiron and mr.d stepped to the side as the festivities continued on.
it was time.
“wonder what everyone got.” you murmured, watching quietly as the rest of the campers hurried towards the tree decked out with over the top presents. percy stood up, offering you his hand as he locked them.
“me too.” percy agreed, sighing slightly. “gods, all i hope is that someone doesn’t make the mistake of gifting travis firecrackers ever again.”
“or a megaphone.”
“oh, yeah, i totally remember that year.”
“I’m sure everyone else does too..”
percy cracked a grin, one that cause your stomach to flutter slightly as you smiled back at him. he squeezed your hand before making short strides towards the rest of the campers.
you should’ve been anxious — you were anxious. though, your concerns seemed to slip away the longer you stayed with percy. the way he looked at you, it made you realize just one thing that you were sure a crummy present wasn’t going to change.
he loved you.
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camp activities were fun and all but, extremely loud.
you’d figured it’d only been amplified by the fact that everyone was opening their christmas gifts and comparing what they’d gotten from each of their respective partners.
you could respect that, secret santa was no joke.
yet, you’d still managed to slip away with percy while none of the adults were watching in favorite of opening your gifts in the company of one another rather than the rest of the camp. and judging by the sputters of stars in the night sky illuminating percy and your faces, it was a good call.
“you think they’ll be mad at us for ditching everyone else?” you asked, clutching your present to your chest as you adjusted your winter coat.
“we’ll be back before they know it,” percy replied, turning to face you with a smile. he was always smiling. “and anyways, everyone else would be too busy with their presents to care.”
you sighed, taking a seat next to percy as you rested his gift in-front of you. percy turned to look at you with an anxious look on his face as he cleared his throat, holing his hand out as he waited for you to take the gift from him.
you looked back at him, nerves set ablaze as well as you exchanged your gifts, resting the wrapped present in your lap as you ogled the festive paper.
“so, truth be told — i’m pretty nervous.” percy blurred out of the blue.
“gods, i’m so glad you said that cause, i so was too.” you sighed softly, your heartbeat stilling for the first time this night as you shifted your body so you were turned towards percy. “i really wanted my gift to special and.. i feel like if it isn’t you’d like hate me or something.”
“i could never hate you.”
you paused for a moment. it’d only be a few years since you’d started to date percy, you should’ve been more used to his personality. yet, it never seemed to catch you off guard when he said these kind of sentimental things.
“even if i got you like..a smelly sock for christmas?”
percy laughed before shaking his head. you bite the inside of your mouth, frowning slightly as your face grew hot.
“sorry, i’ve been so quiet tonight.” you averted percy’s gaze, picking at the clear taping of your present. “it’s just — I don’t know, i guess i was lost in my own head.”
percy watched you quietly, leaning forward to cup your cheek as he planted a soft kiss to your lips, pulling back to stare you head on in your eyes.
“don’t apologize for something like that, it’s fine — really.” percy replied, his voice soft and careful. it made your body feel warm.
“if you want, you could open my gift first,” he added, moving his hand to rest atop yours. “that way you won’t be so nervous.”
you smiled, a genuine one. “that or your gift will be so amazing that it makes mine look horrible.” percy grinned back at you.
“let’s see.”
you nodded, turning to stare down the gift in your lap before you started to unravel it. it wasn’t a particularly big present, not that you minded at all. anything from percy was something to treasure. you moved the packaging to the side carefully as you stared at the small box that hit behind it.
it wasn’t cardboard, more like.. leather? or silk. and it was blue — percy’s trademark. you looked to him with a curious look on your face before turning back to gaze at the small box. you let your finger glide over the material once more before you opened it.
“percy..?” you mumbled out, voice barely a whisper.
inside the box contained a small ring that looked to be just about the size of your ring finger. your heart dropped at the sight of it — in a good way. it was pretty, careful patterns etched into that showed that it was finely crafted. and at the center of it, a small gem that was the same shade of your favorite color.
the cherry on top.
your eyes started to water involuntarily as your lips trembled. you were at a loss for words, how could you say anything? you stared at percy in shock as you tried to grasp the right words to say, eventually coming up with the idea to not say any words at all, leaning forward as you pulled him into a tight hug.
percy hugged back immediately, burying his head into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you gently.
you pulled back to look at him, tears pooling down your face as he wiped them away with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your tear stained cheeks.
“you’re..you’re totally insane for being nervous.” you managed out, laughing slightly as you choked back a sob. “how did you get the money to pay for this?”
“i saved up!” he replied brightly, a proud smile flashing on his face. your shoulders trembled as a warm laugh broke through your lips, causing percy to flush slightly in your hold.
“thank you so much percy.” you whispered, moving your hand to rest on his cheek as you spoke. “you really didn’t have to get me something like this.”
“it’s all fine.” he replied calmly. “it’s you were talking about, y’know.” your face burned with embarrassment as you smiled uncontrollably, pulling percy in for a deeper kiss.
you pulled away from him, watching quietly as percy took the small blue box you’d placed on the floor beside you and opening it. he held the promise ring in his hand, gently taking your own as he slid the ring on carefully. you watched him quietly before press another kiss to his face.
then another, and another.
and before you knew it, you were peppering kisses all over his face, taking the small giggles he emitted from his lips as a sign to do even more than before. percy managed your name out though his giggles, fingers digging into your winter coat as he tried to pry you off of him.
“the — gift!” he giggled, shutting his eyes tightly as you pressed another kiss to the bridge of his nose. “what about — your gift?”
“another time.” was all you whispered as you slid the gift away, focusing in on making sure you’d filled every single spot off percy’s with the feeling of your lips.
safe to say percy hadn’t gotten to see what you’d gotten him till a little later into the night.
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