#should probably make a tag for Tidal Romance

[boffinhillem]

some quick deputy art

i forgot to put her bandaid on her nose mb

[cece693]

No (Steve Rogers x GN! Reader)

I haven't been focusing on my asks (and I know I should) but this was just something I had to write about. Most Steve fics have a romantic plot, but what if I want to change that? No, I'm not killing anybody but saying no to marriage might be in Steve's book.

Summary: You loved Steve, but you weren't ready to make the big step in marrying him. Others don't understand or merely refuse to accept your reasoning.

tags: marriage proposal gone wrong, reader has their reasons, hurt Steve, Avengers meddling in things

The cozy glow of the living room bathed everything in warm hues, as if the universe itself cradled this moment. Steve Rogers stood before me, larger than life yet heartbreakingly human in the way he looked at me—with unyielding love that made my chest tighten. My heart thundered as he sank to one knee, his golden hair catching the light like a halo. His hand trembled slightly as he produced a small black box.

His smile was tender, adoring—the kind of smile you’d only see in fairy tales and classic romances.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice steady but soft. “These past three years have been the best of my life, and that’s saying something for someone who’s lived as long as I have. You’ve given me a reason to keep going when everything else had faded. I love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming mine?”

The room fell silent. Too silent.

I didn’t need to turn around to know the Avengers were crowded against the door, holding their breath. My eyes dropped to the ring—a delicate, beautiful thing. So perfectly Steve. I could imagine him painstakingly choosing it, probably consulting Nat or Sam for advice. It was perfect. He was perfect.

And yet…

“Steve,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I struggled to form words. “I…I can’t.”

The silence turned suffocating. His smile faltered, and his bright blue eyes searched mine as though I’d just spoken a foreign language. “What?”

“I can’t say yes,” I said softly, my throat tightening around the words.

Before I could even attempt to explain, the door burst open, and the Avengers stormed in like a tidal wave of disbelief and judgment.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony’s voice was sharp, incredulous. “You rejected Steve Rogers? Captain America? What is wrong with you?”

“It’s not—” I tried, but Natasha’s icy glare stopped me in my tracks. Her expression was devoid of emotion, but the disappointment in her eyes cut deeper than words ever could. Even Thor, lovable Thor stood with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed, as though I’d committed some unspeakable crime.

“How could you?” Clint’s voice rang out next, loud and accusatory. “Do you even realize what it took for him to plan this? The time, the effort, the heart—and you just said no?”

“I didn’t mean to—” My voice broke, but they weren’t listening. Even Sam shook his head, muttering something about how I didn’t deserve Steve. I turned to him, desperate for support, for something. But Steve stayed silent. His shoulders slumped, his head bowed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t stop them. He didn’t defend me.

The weight of it all became too much.

“Enough!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I stood. The room fell silent, all eyes on me, but I didn’t care. Tears burned in my eyes as I glared at them. “You didn’t even let me explain! You’re all so quick to judge, to attack me, without even asking why I said no. Do you think I don’t love him? That I don’t care about him? You’re wrong.”

I turned on my heel, my voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “I said no because I’m not ready—not because I don’t love him, but because I do. But clearly, none of you care to understand that.”

Without another word, I stormed out of the room, ignoring their calls after me. My chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of their disappointment and Steve’s silence pressing down on me until I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know where I was going, but I needed to get away.

Hours later, I sat on a bench at the edge of a quiet park, the cold night air biting at my skin. My hands were trembling, and I didn’t know if it was from the chill or the lingering hurt.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked up to see Steve standing there, his expression soft but cautious. His voice was gentle, careful, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. I nodded wordlessly, and he took a seat beside me. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us. The stillness gnawed at me until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you here, Steve?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“To listen,” he said simply. His blue eyes, tired but sincere, locked onto mine. “I should’ve done that earlier.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening again. “You didn’t stop them,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. “You let them say all those horrible things about me, and you didn’t stop them.”

His face fell, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over mine. “I know,” he said softly. “And I'm sorry. I froze. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I don’t blame you for saying no. I could never blame you for that. I just…I was surprised.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I shook my head. “I didn’t say no because I don’t love you, Steve. I love you so much that it hurts. You’re everything, Steve. You’re kind and patient and wonderful. But this…this is forever. And I need to know I’m the best version of myself before I make that promise to you.”

His eyes softened, though the pain lingered in the corners. “I thought…after everything we’ve been through—”

“Exactly,” I cut him off gently, my voice breaking. “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t want to rush into this and risk us falling apart. I want us to last, Steve. And I need to work through my own fears and doubts to make sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

His hand tightened around mine, grounding me. “Thank you for explaining things. And I respect your decision; I'll wait, as long as it takes, until you're ready to say yes."

I looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes breaking through the wall of guilt and fear I’d built around myself. “You’re not mad?”

Steve shook his head, offering me a small, tender smile. “No. I love you too much to be mad. I just…I needed to understand. And now I do.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around me. For the first time that night, I felt like I could breathe again.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For listening. For understanding.”

“Always.”

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 3 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

The next Monday found you anxiously nursing a coffee, carefully looking over Bakugou’s latest results.

You’d let the model retrain overnight, just to get a more up-to-date picture of Bakugou’s work, and you’d barely slept a wink while it ran, fretting over your first meeting with him. After waking up earlier than ever, you’d found yourself restless all morning, so you’d made your way into Miruko’s agency well ahead of schedule and had spent your time since sucking down coffees and eyeing Bakugou’s assist and rescue scores warily. They still sat well beneath his kill and capture scorings, and you mentally braced yourself for the near impossibility of getting him to prioritize those aspects of his work.

With Mina’s help, you’d been able to con him into working with you. But just because he’d agreed to your bet, you were not stupid enough to think that meant he was going to make anything easy for you.

Bakugou, for his part, seemed the very antithesis of nervous when he met you in the surveillance room. He barged into your makeshift office mid-morning, looking well-rested if annoyed. The door banged loudly off the opposite wall and rebounded closed with a slam that rattled the AV equipment.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bakugou growled, throwing himself down in the seat opposite you. He was dressed in dark training clothes--simple athletic fabrics that suggested that he meant to book it to a training room the second he was done with you. His whole manner suggested you should keep things short.

You sat frozen, fingers paused over your laptop keys. “...Good morning to you too.”

He looked at you incredulously, blonde eyebrows raising. “I didn’t fucking come here for small talk. Get on with it, nerd.”

You suppressed a twitch of irritation, looking away from him where he sat in an agitated pile of strong lines and tense muscle. God you hoped this was all going to be worth it, at the end of things.

You sighed and clicked into the model results screen, knowing it was only going to work him into a lather if you pressed him on social niceties. “Okay, so I did some analysis--”

“Big fucking surprise.”

“--and,” you continued loudly, “as you well know, you need to adjust certain priorities on the field.”

A scoff issued from his direction. “I don’t need to adjust shit.”

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. He was literally here to discuss adjusting shit. What was the point of him being so defensive?

You eyed him speculatively, taking in the oppositional slant to his broad shoulders, the thin slash of his mouth as he regarded you irritably. Your observations from last week floated to the forefront of your mind, that this was a man who would not easily do anything he didn’t want to do. And it was clear he did not actually want to do this--he had only been baited into it by the grace of his meddling, pink-haired friend.

You mentally resolved to play as nice as you possibly could, to minimize the amount of fussing from his side of things.

���As I think I explained last year,” you began carefully, “the model I train relies on a set of weights, and you’re ranked on that. Your work is divided up into categories: public perception, kills, captures, property damage, rescues, and now assists. Some of those categories are weighted more heavily than others, so if you do well in them, you’ll outperform your peers in the rankings who do just as well in other categories.”

Blood red eyes darted up to a monitor as you projected your laptop screen onto it, the model results translated into neatly organized and color-coded graphs.

“You are unmatched in kills, fairly unmatched in captures as well, and you’ve kept property damage to a surprising minimum in the last few years considering your quirk. You’re also wildly popular, particularly with young people, according to public polls.”

You glossed over the fact that his appearance probably had a lot to do with it, considering the tidal wave of interest from the female bracket of respondents. The fact especially did not bear thinking about when he was alone in a tiny office with you, bare arms and the hard planes of his chest displayed prominently in his training gear.

“Just fucking---out with it,” Bakugou demanded, turning to glare at you again. “I don’t have all damn day.”

The tiniest hint of smoke and sweetness hit your nose as he leaned closer, and you pushed away from him, baring your palms in the universal gesture for peace.

“Okay, okay. So you’re good at those things, but your rescue scores need work, and your assist score puts you in the top ten least cooperative heroes in the entire industry,” you explained, watching as a muscle in his jaw jumped in obvious irritation. “Rescues are the highest weighted category in the rankings model, and assists are the third highest. So no matter how good you are in other areas, you will not surpass anyone who performs well in these categories.”

Bakugou made an annoyed sound, his brows drawing together. “Quit fucking talking to me like I’m a baby. I fucking know--tell me exactly what your fucking nerd-ass model needs me to do and I’ll fucking do it.”

You breathed out of your nose very slowly, quelling the rising tide of annoyance within you. Everything out of his mouth was so abrupt and demanding.

Software engineers, picture the software engineers.

“Okay so I ran deeper analyses on those two categories and compared your movements with generalized results from the top ten heroes from each category,” you continued.

“The thing that stood out in terms of rescues, is that you were almost twice as fast as other heroes to leap into combat with a villain. This means you’re spending less time assessing the situation than other heroes, and therefore spending less time processing victims. So if I had to make a recommendation here, it’s that you should actively look for civilians before jumping into a fight. You might still find that the smarter thing to do is leap into the fight instead of evacuating them, but you at least need to slow down before you do.”

The crease between his brows erased itself and he leaned back in his chair, tension bleeding out of him somewhat, which was--unexpected. You’d have thought he’d get more defensive as you explained his shortcomings to him.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “What else?”

You pulled up two videos and projected them side by side, bright little clusters of dots collected over the location of each hero. “For assists, it looks like when you’re in range of other heroes, you actually do help, at least a little. I only found an issue when I generalized results from the top ten in this category and ran calculations about their movements in comparison to yours.”

You let the videos play, watching Bakugou’s eyes track the movements with unblinking precision. He said nothing as you let the loop repeat, the tense lines of his body inexplicably unravelling even further with each loop. He looked as close to relaxed as you had ever seen him.

After a few loops, he finally let out a scoff. “Those needy fucks stick closer to other heroes,” he concluded gruffly. “That’s what the dots are tracking.”

You nodded. “On average, you move three times farther away from other heroes on scene than the top ten heroes do. So you’re less likely to be in range to help.”

He rolled a powerful shoulder, unwittingly drawing your eyes straight to it. You gave your leg an annoyed pinch under the table, forcing your gaze back up to his face once you realized what you were doing.

“So I have to look for weaklings and stay closer to these b-list fucking clowns, that’s what you’re telling me?” he prompted, running a hand through his mess of blonde hair. It looked unexpectedly soft under his fingers.

You drew your eyes away from him again, focusing hard on the relief you were feeling that he seemed to be processing and internalizing your feedback. “Yeah, you need to assist civilians and stay in range of your team. Those are the only areas in which you really need help.”

There was a sharp crackle, and tense movement caught in the corner of your eye. You turned to find that all of Bakugou’s unease had suddenly returned, a snarl riding his mouth.

“Help?” he demanded. That scent of smoke and sugar suddenly pressed in on you again, sharp and dangerously hot.

You blinked at him in confusion. “...Uh, yeah?”

His gaze darkened and he leaned over the table between the two of you, a calloused hand catching the collar of your shirt to yank you towards him. The corner of the table dug into your ribs, and his fingers were hot where they brushed the skin under your collar.

“I don’t fucking need help,” he spat, crimson eyes boring into your face like a drill. Your hands came up to grab his, trying to untwist it from your shirt, but his fingers only tightened, unyielding.

“What--? Yes you do?” you garbled, fingers scrabbling over his. “What do you--?”

He pulled you further across the table, so that his face was scant inches from your own.

“Fuck you if you think I need anything from you,” he growled in a low tone, voice almost dangerously soft. Your blood iced over in your veins, limbs freezing. He stared at you for a long, heavy moment.

Then, in the next second, you were being shoved backwards into your chair, and then Bakugou was gone, door slamming behind him with a force that shook the walls.

You stared after him in shock, mouth gaping open. He had been fine up until a couple of seconds ago, even seeming to relax under your analysis. But then his temper had suddenly flared for no fucking reason.

What….what the fuck was wrong with him?

You spent the rest of the morning in a state of restless agitation.

What the literal fuck was wrong with Bakugou? Why had he just stormed out like that? What had flipped the switch for him in the space of mere seconds?

You replayed the conversation in your head nonstop all through your next few meetings and over your lunch break, where you furiously wolfed down a bento without tasting any of it. Your frustration carried you all the way into the afternoon, when a head of wild pink curls poked itself through your door.

You looked up into Pinky’s dark eyes and brilliant smile.

“Y/N!” she chirped happily, closing the door behind her and sprawling into the seat across from you.

You returned her friendly smile. “Ashido-san,” you greeted her politely.

She laughed and waved a rosy hand, leaning forward over the table. “I would never ask stats girl to be formal with me. Call me Mina!”

You huffed an embarrassed laugh. That was sweet, but the nickname stats girl needed to die a brisk and fiery death.

“Mina, then,” you amended, pulling up her model results on your laptop, trying to tamp down on your embarrassment. She was almost overwhelmingly friendly.

Her dark eyes flickered over you curiously and a cautious smile played about her mouth. “Heard it didn’t go well with Katsuki this morning.”

You looked up at her in surprise. “He told you?”

She laughed. “No, I just saw him annihilating a training room. I know him well enough to know when he’s throwing a tantrum.”

An awkward, hot sense of shame welled up within you at the thought that you’d pushed him to that, though you didn’t know how. You got the sense that you’d taken one step forward but two steps back. So much for your promotion.

“Uh yeah, he kind of...stormed out? He’d been listening, actually, and I thought things were going weirdly well. The bet was a good idea, so thank you,” you said. “I just…somehow I screwed it up, I think.”

Mina rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, splaying out flat in her seat. “God, you know what? I’m just so tired of my best friends being guys. They’re so dramatic and so fussy about their tough guy image. And take themselves so seriously, for no reason, even fucking Denki. I have sat every single one of them down and forced them into make up so it’s absolutely baffling to me that they still stomp around like they’re so serious and so tortured.”

Your mouth dropped open as what she’d just said caught up with you. Take themselves seriously...when she’d forced them into make up? “No. Even…?”

Mina smirked. “Oh yeah, even Katsuki. No idea why he thinks he’s such a tough guy when all it takes is a couple of tears and boom, he’s working a smokey eye and tiny little pigtails.”

You choked on a laugh, trying to dispel the horrifying image in your mind of Bakugou in mascara and lipstick. The idea of him in make up was somehow even more intimidating than his usual appearance. You did not want to know more.

It certainly did beg the question, however, why he was such a difficult jerk if it was that easy to get him to acquiesce to something that horrifying. Maybe the answer lay in Mina’s powers of manipulation. She’d known to make the bet with him, after all. And if she knew how to get him into eyeliner and lipstick, then she might know how to get him to agree to let you help him.

“Wow,” you murmured. “That’s...terrifying. How did you even convince him though? I can’t get him to spend more than two seconds around me without blowing his top like a volcano.”

Mina grinned conspiratorially, leaning over the table. “You just have to know how to work him. Trust me, you might have good numbers sense, but I have pretty good people sense. Katsuki is all smoke and fire until you dig underneath.”

You almost did not want to know what was underneath. “That’s--but he’s so volatile. I can’t predict any of it.”

Mina's grin widened. “Actually, it’s pretty straightforward. He’s actually super in control all of the time, even when it seems like he’s lost it. He’s only really sensitive about one thing.”

“For example,” she leaned forward, her smile morphing into something dark and leery. “I heard he burned through your dress at the Hero Awards.”

You put your face in your palm. “Yes. This is what I’m talking about--I thought he was gonna fry me to a crisp.”

Mina snorted, raking a hand through her mess of curls. “Maybe I only see it because my acid is similar--but it’s pretty hard to only burn through a tiny strip of fabric and not touch anything underneath, even if you’re not out of your mind with anger. It requires some precise control. Wouldn’t you say?”

You froze in your seat, staring at her. Implications began to creep over you like a dark shroud. “What?”

She grinned. “He didn’t touch you, right? Only the dress?”

You gaped at her. “Yeah--only the dress.”

She cut her dark eyes to you, looking like she was trying to suppress a laugh. “Very interesting that he managed to sear straight through your dress, then, without burning you. One might think he did it on purpose.”

You floundered. “But I--but he--! I told him to do better and he got all worked up and intense!”

Mina laughed out loud. “I bet he did. Katsuki’s a total control freak but he loves a challenge. That’s why he took your bet, and that’s why your meeting didn’t go as poorly as you thought it might at first, and that’s why he was so fixated on you after the Awards.”

Your face heated. “Don’t put it like that.”

She chuckled. “I don’t know how you feel about him, but I can guarantee he’s very interested in you. He loves girls who don’t take any of his shit. Why do you think he signed with Miruko? It’s actually kinda gross,” she made a face.

Your face was on fire. A hot wave of embarrassment washed through you and you resisted the urge to dive under the table and hide. This is not the turn you thought the conversation would be taking.

“Uh, so,” you managed, fingers fluttering. “So--um, why did he freak out earlier then? I did tell him everything he was doing wrong. But then he lost it, I think when I told him I would help.”

Mina’s grin settled back into place. “He’s so fucking predictable. He hates being looked down on, and the word help implies that you think he’s weak enough to need it. I’ll bet you anything that’s why he totally flipped.”

You considered this. “But I didn’t mean it like that--”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s got a very specific way of looking at things. He’s way better than he used to be but that’s the one thing he’s still sensitive about.”

You mulled that over. It did explain, then, why he’d reacted so poorly when he’d seemed to be fine with your critique. “Does he really need to be seen as strong that badly?”

Mina picked idly at the fluff on her costume’s jacket, thin fingers tangling in the white strands. “He has insane expectations for himself, and he’s only comfortable when everyone else has those too. It’s like if you think he can’t live up to those standards, that you don’t truly see him.”

So that was it. The mystery of Bakugou’s volatile nature explained--a weirdly deep-seated inferiority complex wrapped up in layers of crankiness and--you blushed--an interest in girls who gave him shit. You quickly buried any considerations on his romantic inclinations, and focused on the inferiority complex.

Whether you’d intended to or not, this morning you had managed to convey to him that you thought he was incapable, and not in a way that personally challenged him like the bet had, or your demand he do better at the Hero Awards. It was so ridiculous, you thought, but then so was he. And if you wanted to make any progress on your promotion, then you were gonna have to suck it up and work within those constraints.

You sighed. You owed him an explanation, maybe even an apology.

Mina regarded you approvingly from across the table. You also owed her a drink. Maybe several.

“Got it,” you acknowledged, clicking back into your model results and pulling up her ranking analyses. “And thank you--I owe you a ton. Now let’s get to what we came here to do which is to talk about how you can kick even more ass.”

Mina grinned, leaning forward in delight. “You’re welcome. And hell yeah, this conversation was so not passing the Bechdel test.”

You snorted, suppressing a wild smile. Oh, you really liked her.

You would apologize and get things back on track with Bakugou. And once Bakugou netted you your promotion, you were gonna turn back and rocket Mina up the rankings to give him a run for his money.

[tellmealovestory]

Dance With Me

Summary: You and Sam share a late night dance.

Warnings: Tipsy reader, Sam Wilson being in love, domestic fluff

It's a midnight kind of love.

Stumbling into the house, shoes in hand, drunken giggles and Sam looking down at you adoringly. A loud smack of his lips against the side of your head, an arm around your waist, fingers tickling your side and it just makes you laugh louder and harder as the screen door slams shut behind you.

The kitchen light is left on over the stove illuminating your favorite room in the house with a soft yellow glow. Window open to let in a cool breeze, it ruffles the curtains, feels like heaven on you bare arms when you step towards it. Sweet jasmine in the air and you're in love, with Sam, with the night, with the full moon that's shining down on you through window.

“One more dance before we go to bed?” He asks, stepping up behind you.

It’s a tempting offer.

One you can hardly refuse even with your sore and blistered feet screaming at you to rest them, even with your tipsy limbs telling you it’s best to get into bed, rest your body on the cool sheets that you had changed just this morning. You should go to bed. It’s late, you’re tired, dreamland is calling to you, but how can you resist just one more dance?

Nights like these are rare with Sam.

And it’s with that thought that has you turning around to face him. The room spins, but his soft brown eyes so full of love and warmth are there to steady you, to call you home. His hand rests on your hip, sly smile on his handsome face and you find yourself falling more in love with him than you thought possible.

Floor warm beneath your bare feet. The ceiling fan overhead whirls in slow circulation, but between that and the breeze it's not quite enough to cool you off on this warm summer evening.

A night out on town has left your clothes clinging to your sweat slicked body. A rhythmic and soothing tick tock, tick tock from the crookedly hung clock on the far wall fills the space between you as you consider his question.

You can’t help but to state the obvious. "There's no music."

Not that it’s ever stopped you before.

He’s a man who has no problem twirling you around the bedroom floor while you’re trying to get ready in the morning, telling you that your laugh is the soundtrack to his day. One who can sense a bad day from a mile away and will do anything to see you crack a smile even if it means burning breakfast to take you on a spin through the kitchen, dipping your body so low you swear he’s going to drop you, but he never does, he never would and when he finally sees you smile, even if it’s a tiny little thing it’s worth it for him.

"I'll sing."

Arching an eyebrow you tease, "You're gonna sing?"

A lopsided grin and he's pulling you towards him, your palms resting on his chest, a little wobbly on your feet, head a little dizzy, but it only makes him hold you tighter as his hands find purchase on your waist.

"I can sing."

But what comes out is anything but. It's off key, loudly exaggerated, words that in your state sound more like gibberish. There's a twinkle in his eyes, a laugh on his lips when you slap his chest, but when you try to tell him to please stop, please all it does is make him ask, "You said sing it louder, honey?"

"No!" You have to yell to be heard over his noise and your laughter, but it's worth it to see him smile, worth it to feel his hands hold you just a little tighter.

You struggle to get the words out as tears spring to your eyes. "All the cats in the neighborhood are gonna be at our door wondering what that awful racket is if you don't stop," you warn.

He pauses, smirks and looks down at you, pulls you a little closer when you try to wriggle out of his arms. "Oh, that's how it's gonna be?"

"Mhm."

“Thought you loved my voice?” He teases.

Oh, you do, he knows you do.

You love it when he sings to you at night, curled up on the couch together after a long day. Love it when you catch him in the morning, golden sunlight streaming through the windows, fresh from a run, high off the adrenaline, humming whatever tune is playing through the speakers of his iPod. Love it when you’re in the car together, radio tuned to whatever station is playing the best music, arm hanging out the window, hand on the steering wheel as he sings along to the songs.

For a second or two it's quiet. Peaceful. Sliding your hands from his chest up to his shoulders you loop your arms around his neck pulling him closer and inhaling the lavender fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the faint whiff of mint cologne he had spritzed himself with before leaving the house.

"One more dance," you whisper, head resting on his chest, heartbeat steady in your ear.

Sam guides you away from the window, humming softly and if he doesn't mind there's no music to properly dance to you don't mind either.

Closing your eyes you let him lead you in a slow, uneven waltz through the kitchen. Past the coffee pot, the same one you've had since college. It was old back then and it's ancient now. Sputtering to life and shaking every time you use it Sam always tells you he's going to buy you a new one for your birthday, but it's a sentimental object, one you're not ready to part with and for all his joking he's a much better gift giver than that.

He spins you out so your hip bumps against the edge of the counter, tipsy laugh falling from kiss stained lips. You'll feel that bruise in the morning, but right now all you feel is bliss as he pulls you back to him, hand on your lower back keeping you tight against him right where you belong.

Dipping his head down he presses his mouth to your ear. It starts out as a hum, something familiar tugging at your minds memories and heartstrings, but it's not until he starts singing it all comes rushing back at you like a tidal wave.

Voice soft and a little off key, but it just makes you love him more as sings the words to an old Marvin Gaye song, How sweet it is to be loved by you. He drags out the last syllables to you and it never fails to make you laugh. Takes you right back to your fifth date. Picnic in a park, tipsy on cheap red wine and too much sunshine, spread out on a checkered red and white blanket like something straight out of a romance movie. Sam crooning those same words to you you knew you had loved him then just as you love him now.

Spinning you past the table, chairs pushed in, crowded with junk mail and chipped coffee cups, catalogues for a lawn service you don't need because you would never deprive yourself of seeing him shirtless and sweaty, muscles on display in the hot summer weather cutting the grass. A race car and a few slips of off colored monopoly money stick to the floor from the last time his nephews had visited. It serves as a reminder that you should probably clean those up, but just as quickly as the thought enters your mind it flies right out when he unexpectedly dips you.

Laughter mixes together and it's the perfect accompaniment to the early morning and the mellow voice of Sam.

You treasure these moments with him when it's just the two of you, the rest of the world asleep. No one to save, no bad guys to catch and put away. Just you and Sam Wilson. Alone in the kitchen. Dancing to the music with the man of your dreams.

Tags;

@breakfast-at-kelseys​

@melchills-j​

[sorcerusdragonbionics]

8/11-8/17 Reading List

Heyo! I should be posting again soon it will be the one from last week.

(If someone wants me to start making master posts so they’re organized by Ship or Fandom or whateve lemme know, honestly the longest part is going from a list of links to my Google format so creating a Master List wouldn’t be too bad)

Google: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BoQVZrNyejwkWCMSVfT7NNTLMsAWUSt_4FmEmPldOy8/edit?usp=sharing

Altered

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Rehabilitated_Sith

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293934/chapters/45888058 

Summary: chapter 7: Tim finds himself in over his head when he is faced with a de-aged Damian. // All the stories I want to write but don’t have time to fully flesh out. // Short stories/one-shots/Drabbles

7/?

Last Updated: 2019/8/20

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 19048

Anyone Can Look Glamorous… Just Stand There and Look Stupid

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types, DCU, DCU(Comics), Batman (Comics)

Author(s): meaninglessblah, tomato_carnage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831576/chapters/46958824 

Summary: Tim goes undercover in a 1950s pin-up girl style dress to lure in a mark, and all the Robins come to the stark realisation that Tim is way more capable and also more attractive than they gave him credit for. It might have something to do with the victory curls...

7/7

Has been Completed since I last read it

Now Part of Series

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tim gets in some serious trouble that the others are oblivious to, but the Author lets you know

Words: 11437

You and Me (Were Meant to Be)

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Scarletbat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8657965/chapters/19850707 

Summary: Tim finds Damian in an unlikely situation but his 'help sparks a chain of event for both parties involved // I just wanna thank SimplyTati because without her this would have sucked. Again thank you

10/?

2019/6/7

Rating: E

Warnings: Underage, No Archive Warnings Apply

ABO

Words: 12324

So Called Date

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types, Batman (Comics)

Author(s): cadkitten

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18302285 

Summary: Damian stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark gray slacks, balled into tight fists. His jaw was clenched against the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. It wasn't fair. None of this was.

1/1

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Underage (I think… I’m pretty sure Dami is under 18), Undercover makes everything really fucking confusing for everyone

Words: 3464

Batfam’s Valentine’s Series

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types, Superman- All Media Types

Author(s):  LightningHope

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1279517 

Your Favorite Truth Summary: Time travel is not part of Damian's regular schedule. It's alright, Richard's there, even if his Robin suit is an atrocity.

1/1

Rating: G

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

You’re Good

Words: 1149

Sunbeams Summary:  Kon hasn't played the guitar in ages. It's fine. He's definitely sure he remembers some songs. // (Tim, somehow, does not believe him.)

1/1

Rating: G

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

You’re good

Words: 903

Turn Away, Cruel Fate Summary: Soulmates are a tricky business, and not worth it as far as Tim as concerned. Fairy tales don't exist, and what's the point of someone's name written into your skin if you have to work at it like any other relationship? No thanks. // Shockingly, Damian disagrees.

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to use Archive Warnings

Underage cuz it’s TimDami

Words: 2698

How To Accudentally Fix Your Family

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s):  General_Midnight_of_Ardar

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770394/chapters/39350512

Summary: Jason Todd didn't mean to go back in time to only a few months after his death. And honestly dealing with his family normally is difficult but this is another level. So he decided to avoid them. Whilst being the most annoying little piece of annoyance that he can be. But it all gets complicated when these pesky things called feelings get in the way.... // Please read and try

1/?

2018/11/28

Rating: Not Rated

Like…  T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Words: 701

Nothing Less Than Drake

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics), Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): cadkitten

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723695/chapters/23761395 

Summary: His name isn't Tim Drake for nothing. One curse to his entire family line was all it took to put Tim in a very awkward situation once he found out he wasn't like everyone else.

4/4

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

READ THE TAGS, it’s that it’s … bad… it’s just extra(?)

Words: 15420

Detente Series

Fandom(s): DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Super Sons (Comic), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)

Author(s):  MsSolo

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1091745 

Armistice Summary: Damian tries to tell himself that at least this has bought him some time before he has to face his father. That somehow it's better than Dick's cloying sympathy. That Pennyworth deserves time to work on his hobbies without being dragged hither and thither over nothing. But none of it's true, it's Drake, and he's here to witness Damian's humiliation.

1/1

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 3235

Cease Fire Summary: "Are you ever coming out of the sofa again?" Cissie asks. // Tim considers. "Has everyone in the coffee shop stopped staring?” // "Most of them." // Most isn't good enough. "I think I'll stay here a bit longer." // Cissie drapes her jacket over his head, because she is a true friend. It's safe in the dark.

1/1

Rating: Not Rated

Like T (barely)

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 4906

Negotiation Summary: "Is this about a boy?" Tim asks. "I mean, I meant it when I said you don't have to tell me, but I think everyone would worry less if you let us know the vague ballpark. You know: romance, health, ninjas, time travel." He uses the rear view mirror to check his appearance, pulling some strands out of his bun to make it look more casual and checking his teeth. // "You're fishing," Damian says. "And your hair looks stupid. Just innately. Don't waste time on it." // He gets out of the car. Tim isn't as nosey as Dick; or rather, he prefers to get his information on subtler ways. Damian can't think of the last time Tim asked him a personal question outright. // He narrows his eyes. "You're not fishing," he says. "You're deflecting."

1/1

Rating: Not Rated

It is definitely T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 5422

Peace Process Summary: "You need to empty the can first." // "I don't have any more bags. When was the last time you went back on a decision? You 'improved' upon it?" // "I am not saying I ever have. I have never made a less than perfect decision. I merely propose it as an option for you to reduce the paralysis you clearly face in this area." Damian taps the trash can. "Would I be wrong in suggesting you have not purchased any more bags because you have not found the perfect bags to purchase?" // "No. I have, they're just from the grocery store by the manor and I haven't had a chance to swing by recently." Tim throws his hands up as Damian takes the trash can away from him. "Though, admittedly, I could probably live with an imperfect trash bag, under the circumstances."

9/9

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 15242

Partition Summary: Damian frowns. “It’s vegetarian.” // “I’m not Jason.” Tim smiles at Damian. “I checked out the menu online, Damian. It looks really exciting. And I could probably use the vitamins.” // Damian huffs at him. They’re back on familiar territory. “The five food groups are not Chinese, Indian, Mexican, Italian and cheese, Drake.” // “You’re forgetting “just add water”.” // “I’m doing you the favour of pretending that cuisine doesn’t exist.”

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 7239

Unification Summary: “I am Damian al Ghul Wayne, Ibn al Xu'ffasch. My birthright demands I accept only that which I deserve. A cowed man, beaten and broken, coerced into marriage and trapped by gratitude? That is the husband you think is my right?” Damian draws himself up to his full height, finally tall enough to look his grandfather in the eye. “Do you think so little of me, Grandfather?”

48/48

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

This causes the debate for Age of Consent where you were raised vs where you live

Words: 142133

Trade Agreements Summary: Random bits and pieces relating to Detente // 1 - Unification Chapter 7, PoV switch // 2 - What if: they had just told Bruce

3/?

Last Updated : 2019/8/28

Yes I read chapter three since there were only two when I read it

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Same thing with Unification

Words: 16638

All I Want for Christmas is a Robin

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): LebreTim

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076973/chapters/29915307 

Summary: "Emerald green eyes, naturally tanned skin and a very familiar scowling face, what could only mean two things: Thalia had decided to play get impregnated by Batman and hide his child away again or Damian was de-aged."

6/6

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 10646

Not Mine

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics), Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Capucine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091012/chapters/13961113 

Summary: Damian and Tim are forced into a horrific situation--and this is the immediate aftermath.

12/?

Last Updated: 2017/6/3

Rating: T

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

ABO

Words: 19723

The World We Have Build

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Skrigget

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946388 

Summary: Damian curses loudly as he stares down at the pregnancy test he's holding in a tight grip. What is he supposed to do with this, he wonders, as he sighs heavily and notices that his hands are shaking slightly. He inhales sharply and forces his breathing to remain calm. // ** // Basically: Damian is pregnant (he hadn't planned this, far from), he's seventeen (this much happened by itself), an omega (which he hates because Mother and Father are both alphas) and the baby is Tim Drake's (well, the unborn baby is Damian's but still) and all of this could prove problematic. Very, very problematic actually.

1/1

Rating: E

Warnings: Underage

ABO, read the notes/tags

Words: 20655

Bars and Embarrassing Brothers

Fandom(s): Batman (Comics)

Author(s): Avanalae

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822569 

Summary: This is all Babs' fault. Now he's being pursued by his own brothers.

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 830

Fear

Fandom(s): Batman- All Media Types

Author(s): Sakurras

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10134344

Summary: When Scarecrow captures Damian and Tim, the unbelievable happens and tragedy strikes the Batfamily.

1/1

Rating: T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Words: 1389

Zero: Birth of the World’s Best Hero Duo

Fandom(s): BNHA

Author(s):  Toboe1087

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548689/chapters/43963657 

Summary: There was a next to zero percent chance that it would happen. That two infants would meet each other in the park and have a soulmate connection. That they would grow up together and change the world forever. But that's the thing, the chances were next to zero, but not quite zero.

40/?

Last Updated: 2019/8/29

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Words: 150571

Words Don’t Count for Partial Reads

To Have and To Hold

Fandom(s): BNHA

Author(s): Raezbearycream

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289709

Summary: Pitted against two princes of hell, young witch Todoroki Shouto is doomed to meet his end. Little does he know, his destruction is only part of a much grander scheme. His destiny is much different than he was taught to believe. He's fucked.

1/?

Last Updated: 2019/8/18

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

 ABO, Forced Bonding, Force Pregnancy, Feminization, READ THE TAGS!

Words: 5389

[calamity-bean]

I already posted a few TURN recs, but as I was making those, I realized there are just SO MANY I wanted to rec that — although each story is deserving of its own post — perhaps it would be more useful to readers and allow me to cover more bases if I simply made a list. This does not include those that got their own posts, so if you didn’t see those, check them out, too!

To be honest, I’ve always been hesitant to put together a rec list for TURN because I worry that I’m going to forget something or someone who deserves to be included. But I reckon that shouldn’t stop me from trying, so I’ve done my best to think back and collect some of my all-time favorite works in this fandom — some recent, some going all the way back to season 2. I hope y’all find some new gems to enjoy and show the authors some love. ❤

Probably should have called this the Annlett Rec List, though, because ... pretty much every one at least has background radiation of Annlett. Surprise, surprise.

The following by idiotequed ( @deflect​​ ):

Tidal Equations — If memory serves, this was like the very first TURN fic I ever read, back in the mid-season 2 days when I was just getting obsessed and there were only like five fics in the Annlett tag. It is still dear to my heart. There’s science and nature and horseshoe crabs and it is just so cute and in-character and good!

Dearest Mother — Also one of the first I read, and it still kills me. Epistolary fic narrated in Edmund’s head during his imprisonment.

The Third Sphere of Heaven — Alas, only the first chapter, but that first chapter is still worth a read!

The following by khlassique ( @capetian​ ):

binary stars — “It is just them, and the water, and the stars” — a chance run-in between Anna and Edmund at night.

show me the way to heaven’s gate — Mary contemplates Abe and marriage and Anna and it’s so lovely and sad and good!!!

The following by @mercurygray​​:

Yankee Doodle Doughboy — aka, the Turn WWI AUs! TURN. PLUS WWI. ENOUGH SAID. Some adorable Annlett interludes in Paris, and lots of good wartime Ben.

A Heavy Inheritance — Anna and Edmund raising a gaggle of children (named after astronomical phenomena) in Scotland, like they still SHOULD, dammit.

Teach Me to Fall by @conchord​​ Anna + Edmund + harpsichord = ROMANCE. It is known. A beautifully written and sensual encounter between Anna and Edmund while the rest of Whitehall is asleep.

no sense in hiding from the front lines by simplyprologue ( @ofhouseadama​ ) A series of stories, all lovely, following Edmund and Anna after a reunion on the battlefield, featuring hurt/comfort and rekindled love and SWORDFIGHTING ANNA. Need I say more??

Bliss, Joy, and Happiness by dreamcager A series about Anna and Edmund falling in love again via letter and arranging to reunite years after their parting. The first is an epistolary fic, the second prose, and both forms suit the content really well.

Carried by Pail and Back by @itsclydebitches​ Papa Hewlett!! Papa Hewlett and Mama Anna and HAPPINESS. 

Adrift by Oblivion_Wanderer ( @brittleskyblue​ ) Not strictly Annlett, but if there’s one thing I love almost as much as Edmund with Anna, it’s Edmund having an awkward road-trip with Caleb and Ben!

In this Palace of dim night by Le_Creationist ( @le-petit-creationist​ ) This beautifully written WIP follows Anna’s life from childhood onward, to her marriage with Selah and aiming toward Annlett, and it is so sad and sweet and lovely all at once. Unfinished, but what’s up is definitely worth a read!

Law & Order & Authori[tea] by @calamity-bean Yes, I’m being gross and adding my own fic to this list, cause hey, if I’m gonna make a list of Annlett fics, I may as well. Modern coffeeshop (well, tea shop) AU in which Anna and Edmund make a pretty bad first impression on each other but slowly come together as each tries to figure out what they want from life and what they’re willing to give for it.

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 2 | first date

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

The next morning, your classmates wouldn’t shut up about it.

The rumor of your rendezvous with Shouto had spread like wildfire through the school, and you were assaulted by a wave of questions the second you turned up to modern lit. “Is it true?”, “Is he your boyfriend?”, “How do you know him?”, “Is he a good kisser?”, all blended into a cacophony of sound that nearly bowled you over as you stepped through the door.

You felt your face grow hot under their scrutiny and quickly stuffed yourself into your desk. “Yes, we’re dating. No, I won’t answer other questions about it.”

“Come on,” Miko--the girl in the desk closest to you--begged. “You’re dating Shouto Todoroki, the cutest boy in school, and you won’t even tell us how you know him?”

You wracked your brain for something close to the truth. “We, um, got along really well on that support item project last month. It’s nothing special.”

Miko’s mouth opened to fire off another question, but Mr. Cementoss cut her off with his arrival, launching immediately into his lesson plan. You sent up a silent thank you to whichever patron saint of fake dating had been listening.

The rest of the school day passed much the same way, and you wondered several times if the price of your senior project was perhaps too high.

You’d known that Shouto was something of a celebrity due to his parentage, supreme good looks, and incredible power--even outside the walls of UA--but you hadn’t really thought through how that would affect the people who stood closest to him. Knowing what celebrity looked like and actually experiencing it for yourself were two very different things, you found. You’d never been subjected to attention like this before and you weren’t sure that you liked it.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you’d started to wonder if you shouldn’t just call this whole thing off.

The sight of him that morning, however, immediately robbed you of your resolve.

He’d asked you to meet in front of your dorm mid-morning, and he showed up looking unfairly handsome in well-fitted jeans, a grey scarf, and a dark jacket with a high collar that framed his sharp jaw. He looked good, way too good for this early in the morning. You felt a shiver go through you, and not just because of the cold.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted you, the corner of his mouth curling. He gestured with something in his hands and you found your eyes drawn to two takeout coffee cups from the cafe just outside the school gates.

Okay, he was a literal angel and forgiven for everything you had been through this week.

“I didn’t know how you liked yours, so I got all the extras,” he said, handing a cup over to you and turning out a pocket to unveil a mound of sugar packets and tiny creamer containers.

You smiled, feeling warm. “Thanks, Shouto. Pretty sure every support engineer has bypassed the need for modifications at this point and just mainlines straight from the coffee pot. Black is perfect.”

He grinned down at you. “Too many late nights?”

You groaned at the tidal wave of memories. “Support items should just build themselves.”

He laughed and gestured you to follow him, leading you out of school grounds and to the nearby train station.

“Where are we going?” you wondered as he ushered you onto the train. He herded you into a corner and stationed himself in front of you, one arm extended to hold the bar over your head. You wondered if it was something like a natural instinct at this point for hero students to assume a protective position, as Shouto’s choice had the effect of shielding you from the rest of the train car.

“I...asked around about you,” he admitted, looking a little embarrassed. “I’ve been told that your interest in quirks and support items doesn’t just end at the classroom door.”

You flushed. You were kind of a nerd, he had your number.

“I’m taking you somewhere I think you might like,” he said. He took a sip of his own coffee, varicolored eyes glinting down at you over the rim of his cup.

You nursed your own coffee as the train rolled into the city, resisting the urge to close your eyes and lean into him. It was something you might do with an actual boyfriend, and as cute as it was that he was taking you out on a real life fake date, you didn’t think he would appreciate you putting the moves on him.

He led you out of the train at the city center and down a few blocks, finally pulling you into a building with a very modern glass facade. You recognized it at once.

“The Support Museum!” you chirped happily, your interest picking up. They had an interactive exhibit going on right now that you and some classmates had talked about coming to see. Your fingers suddenly itched with the need to test out some of the items.

Shouto looked at you from the corner of his eye, a flash of curious blue. “This is okay?”

“Hell yeah,” you intoned, picking up the pace to get in front of him. “If you’re cool with being bored to death for the next six hours while I have a great time, then this is perfect.”

He gave you a dry look. “I care about support items.”

You scoffed. “You have like, one.”

A slow smirk overtook his features. “Maybe you could convince me to add more.”

Something hot flashed through you and you gave yourself a hard pinch through the fabric of your jeans. His tone seemed laced with insinuation, but you knew better than to buy into it. It was just hard when he was looking at you the way he was.

Damn him for having a face like that.

“Careful,” you said, trying to reroute your brain, “you’re signing yourself up for a whole lot of wild rambling and weird tangents.”

That soft smile pulled at the edge of his mouth again. “I’m used to it. Midoriya, my best friend, is a lot like that.”

You’d been in the room with Izuku Midoriya before and didn’t doubt it. The boy could certainly give you a run for your money. If he wasn’t equipped with the wildest quirk you’d ever seen, he would have made one hell of a support engineer -- you were probably lucky you didn’t have to compete for grades with a mind like that.

“Treat me like white noise,” you said as he shouldered past you to pay for tickets.

You let out a noise of protest when you noticed what he was doing, but he pressed you back from the ticket counter with a strong arm you couldn’t get around. It seemed only too easy for him to hold you off and pay for tickets at the same time, and it was slightly offensive. Maybe you needed to put in more time in the support course gym.

“I asked you out,” he said by way of explanation after you complained all the way through coat check, only shutting up when you were distracted by the sight of him in a soft tee shirt and blue button up. “I should pay.”

You made a dismissive noise. “It’s not the nineteen thirties anymore, dude. I can pay for my own stuff.”

He turned to you with a wry look. “Are we fighting about money already? Not something I’d thought we’d get to at this stage, to be honest.”

You laughed. “Our first fight as a couple.”

He pinned you with an interested look, something in his gaze growing hot. “Should we kiss and make up?”

Your face instantly went up in flames, like he’d lit you up with his quirk. Jesus Christ, he was a teaser? You’d thought he was just the quiet and thoughtful type -- who knew that he hid an ironic sense of humor underneath all that? This was going to be bad for your health.

“Cute,” you quipped for something to say, marching in front of him quickly so he couldn’t see your face. “Uh, where to first?”

He let you lead the way around the museum, and in minutes you’d pretty much calmed down from the heat of the moment, distracted by the halls filled with the forefront of quirk theory and the corresponding support equipment.

As someone who’d been born without a quirk of their own, the concept had always been fascinating to you, leading you into the support track at UA in your efforts to study quirks and their applications. It was incredible how genetics determined which people had none, and whose ranged from benign improvements like seeing slightly better through fog to more deadly power that roiled just beneath the surface of one’s skin like Shouto.

The deviations in power manifestation stretched the genetics of each human further from one another than they had ever gone before -- sometimes by a full 0.1-0.2% of their DNA structure -- and it was crazy cool. While your speciality was more applied science, you couldn’t deny the biology of it was equally as interesting.

At the rate it was going, people like you could share more genetic similarity with a banana at some point than someone like Shouto. Well, after a couple more millennia of evolution.

Shouto chuckled and you realized with some alarm that you had been babbling all of that out loud.

“Should I be concerned that our children might come out as bananas?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You gave him a sour look. “You know that’s not how it works.”

He flashed you a cheeky grin and followed you easily as you led the way through the other exhibits.

He listened attentively as you oohed and ahhed over the different displays, asking very pointed follow up questions like he was actually interested in what you had to say. You fell into a very involved discussion about most of the displays, and you realized with some surprise that plenty of time had passed without you realizing it, and that you were having an incredibly good time.

Shouto paid for lunch at the museum cafe as well, affecting hearing loss over the sounds of your protests, and kept up the easy conversation all the way through the meal.

After lunch, you two queued up for the interactive exhibit that you’d initially wanted to see, eventually being let into the exhibit hall in a small group. You immediately lit up like a kid on Christmas.

The hall was studded with actual support items that had been developed for the top twenty heros, ranging from real costume pieces that had been retired to replicas of items currently in use, supplied by the same companies as had built them. The items were free for testing with the caveat that the user had to be careful.

You spent a fair amount of time over pieces of Edgeshot’s costume that had been made from strands of his own hair, allowing it to fold and reshape with the changes to his body, and more time over Ryukyu’s size-changing suit that mechanically adapted to her dragon form.

Shouto stopped over a flame-resistant gauntlet from his father’s previous costume.

“Think you can melt it?” you asked with interest. You wondered how fast they’d eject you from the museum if he succeeded.

Shouto shook his head. “My flames are hot but I doubt it.”

You perked up. “How hot?”

“I haven’t actually measured,” he admitted and you groaned.

“Your super cool quirk is totally wasted on you,” you said. “You have to let me do tests.”

His mouth twitched again. “What kind of tests?”

“Anything you’ll let me,” you said. “Temperature gauges, cryogenic structure analysis, body scans when you use both energy sources. I have my theories as to how your quirk is actually scientifically possible but I need more data.”

“Body scans, huh?” he asked.

Of course he’d seized on that one. God, he was such a boy.

“Yes. We’ll get you all strapped up in wires and those little sticky nodules. It’ll be super sexy, trust me.”

He chuckled, and set a hand to one of his father’s boots that was also on display. “Fine, but later. Want to test this out now?”

You leaned in, nodding, and he let a flame grow in his hand, pressing it to the fabric of the boot. The cloth activated instantly, channeling the flame across the surface of the boot in the customary style of Endeavor’s flaming costume.

“Fuck, that’s so cool,” you breathed, leaning over to read the description of how it worked. “You need something just as obnoxiously showy on your costume. You’re letting your own dad upstage you.”

He laughed again and let the flame die down.

You wandered companionably through the rest of the exhibit, thrilled when it ended in an arcade-like simulation of Wash’s quirk that let you rig up and shoot water around at various targets. Shouto immediately targeted you instead.

“You're supposed to be a hero,” you whined, whipping around to aim your water cannon at him in revenge. “How could you target a civilian like this?”

His hero training had clearly paid off, as he was too skilled at dodging to get caught up in any of your attacks. Your time was called without you able to catch him once, but you left the exhibit with your own shirt sticking wetly to your body. You tried not to wince, thinking of the wintry weather that would no doubt invade the confines of your jacket once you made it outside.

Shouto immediately pulled you to the side of the coat check, however, his eyes trailing down your shirt where it clung to you. You tried not to feel self conscious.

“Let me,” he said quietly, placing a hand against your shoulder. Searing warmth washed over your skin under his hand and you tried not to arch up into the pleasant heat. You stood incredibly still, hardly daring to breathe as he passed his hand lightly over your shirt, taking care not to touch you anywhere too scandalous, though some traitorous part of your mind almost wished he would. This close, you could catch the scent of some light cologne, minty and fresh, and the smell of it made your head spin.

It took just under a minute for him to fully dry out your shirt, each second passing like a small eternity.

You were able to gather your wits just enough to laugh about his bright future in steam cleaning as you tucked back into your coat, then followed him to the train back to campus.

It was nearly dark by the time he walked you back to your dorm, the sun dipping low to kiss the horizon, sunset orange fading into the deep blue of an evening sky. You realized that you’d spent all day with him and had hardly noted the time passing -- he was a very, very good date. Some girl in the months after graduation was going to find herself very lucky with him.

The dorm was quiet as you approached, which was unusual for a Saturday evening, and you realized with a growing sense of horror that your classmates must be waiting quietly, watching for your arrival from inside to see what he’d do. Shouto must have realized the same thing almost the same time that you did, as he stepped into your space at the doorway, catching the sleeve of your coat to pull you close to him.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, face dipping close to yours. His features were somehow even more symmetrical up close and it was overwhelming to look at. “I quite liked today, so I thought…”

Your heartbeat kicked up in your chest and the tips of your ears went hot as you panicked, tangling your own fingers in his dark jacket like a lifeline. “Y-yeah,” you answered. “This is g-great.”

He smirked, leaning in even closer to you. You held carefully still as you had in front of the coat check, all the nerves in your body straining with anticipation. Then a hot mouth pressed softly to yours, and every neuron in your brain misfired.

The next thing you registered, your arms were around his neck and he was pressing you gently up against the door, his tongue in your mouth and his large hands on your waist. You arched up into his touch, desperate to get closer, twining your fingers in his soft hair.

He gave a low groan and pressed you harder into the door, a hand coming up to cup your face as he did something absolutely criminal with his tongue. So much for his career as a hero.

A muffled shout came from within your dorm and you jerked apart, panting. Your face flamed in embarrassment.

“Wow,” you said dumbly, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Wow indeed,” he teased, stepping back from you.

You shook yourself as he did. Right, fake dating. The kiss had been hot but it was only for show--and the show had been successfully executed. You had to resist the urge to drag him back for another.

“I’ll text you?” you squeaked out and he agreed, looking weirdly satisfied as he bid you good night.

You watched him for a long moment as he trudged back down the path to campus, heart beating a frantic staccato in your chest.

Shouto Todoroki was the most dangerous boy alive and it finally dawned on you just what you had agreed to for the next few months. You were so absolutely fucked.