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lillian-nator · 3 years ago

Text

Everything below was made by Me, Eye, and Ethan over the course of like 3 days

Thank you (with additions from sleepy my beloved)

Okay

Wilbur isn’t the oldest

Techno is

But it’s a war run empire, they take pride in their troops and armies and triumphs

The soldiers come first

So Techno is the commander in chief , the general

Wilbur, second born

Is heir to the throne

To the diplomatic side of the empire

and Tommy Gets shit

He doesn’t even understand why Phil had another kid

Of course there is the situation where Techno or Wilbur dies, or one of them steps down, but it won’t happen

Was he really born to be the understudy

he was born as a backup

Tommy was an accident but they’re not gonna let the public know that

like he's the Zuko

Phil doesn't really pay attention to him so his mother picks up the slack

Wilbur is 21

Techno’s 23

Tommy’s 17

However I have a really good idea for prince Tommy, just like what if he doesn’t like the way that people treat him? Like he doesn’t want all these yes men he wants to be he wants to be told now, he want somebody to tell him he that’s against the rules he just wants him like structure he just want someone to hate him he want someone to not like him and say no and tell him that he’s stupid which is why he does all of the stupid shit that he does

Ever since he was like 4

Everyone has said yes

He wants to defy them

He wants to just do something to make someone say no

That and he lowkey

He wants ~~Phil~~ Wilbur to pay attention to him

Is a Little Shit who causes so many problems on purpose to try and find someone who will push back against him

He wants someone to give him structure and discipline but overall he just wants his family’s attention

He’s broken shit, thrown temper tantrums, he’s started fights and he’ll he’s even snuck out and stole things

He’s never been stopped

People consider him snobby and spoiled

He's a brat

He gets everything he wants, but he doesn’t really want it, he just asks to see if they’ll tell him no

Tubbo = Stable Boy

Ranboo = Prince of another country (probably the americas)

Ranboo could definitely fit the role of an overseas royal prince who Tommy sees as a regal, spoiled, uppity little shit. Like Tubbo, who Tommy sneaks everywhere, has met Ranboo and likes him. Tommy can't possibly see why, he's unbearable.

Bench Trio = Best freinds

I think that Tommy and his brothers were always very very close

they just have jobs and shit

They took over Phil's shit

they probably drift apart as they get older, Wilbur and techno have duties and Tommy starts his quest for attention, they grow apart from their little brother without realizing it

Tommy and his mother (kristin) are always and have continued to be close

she definitely chides him, and tells him quietly to not do things for all of his "misbehaviors"

but there is only so much that she can do, because she has the duty to not make a scene

that and she's not who he's looking for attention from

You may be asking "How is crime recognized, identified, discussed, and atoned for?" more specifically, "Is it a 'you stole my bread so without asking anyone I'm cutting your hand off' or is it the US court system" ~~You may also be Ethan~~

The answer is:

like the UKs

But more like

Okay so the Supreme Judicial system, but Phil (and then Wilbur) has teh final say

Court system, but with Phil overseeing everything

instead of a judge

HOWEVER, that's in the national level

in smaller villages, its more of the cut your hand off system

because the judicial system isn't regulated

So bonus questions:

Punishments and the identification of whether a crime counts as a crime?

soldiers can call crimes out, and citizens can file reports

Phil's not really shit, he just doesn't show Tommy any attention because he's busy with the other two

Just honestly doesn't even care about most shit Tommy does

Like, doesn't pay attention to it until it affects him, he's busy running a country and training the boys to running a country

I don’t think they (the brothers) realize how badly everything is affecting Tommy

The only one who knows anything about the full extent would be his mom, and she’s in a similar boat to Tommy

Phil doenst really see her much either

Not like she could “Make a Scene” trying to get Phil to pay attention to his youngest, to actually love his child, he’s barely around

Kristin and Phil spend time together at night, but during the day everything is for the cameras

its like the UK royals, how they do shit just for the people

And Phil doenst want to hear about the kids at night, he wants to spend time with his wife

Tommy has stolen a car and will do it again

Just fucking hopped in and took a joyride

With Absolutely No Repercussions

Do you think Phil ever tries to hire like, a nanny or something? In the aftermath of the Car Incident? Yes, and it never worked

Tommy, like 15 at the time, pissed as hell as a random ass woman tries to tell him to go to bed at 8:30 pm

Tommy wants somebody to tell him no but not somebody hired to tell him no mannn

Tommy goes to like parties - like ragers

he has a network of really famous friends like young actors and shit

dude is a party animal, underage drinking, rumors of drugs, he’s the PR Teams worst nightmare, but they’re not going to say anything

The press makes up SO MUCH SHIT

The press once said that he had done cocaine when it was really one of his friends

Tommy adopts two dogs (hello Betty and Walter) without asking either of his parents

Betty is short for Elizabeth

He brings them in off the street

Literal abandoned street dogs and he goes, mine now

He like, walks down the street with sunglasses on, and just doesn't look at anyone as he walks the dogs, who have like black nice leather leashes

The paparazzi always finds him walking the dogs

like a modern celebrity

Mans can and will call the paparazzi on himself - because he is a drama queen ETHAN Tommy voice "hello pa pa. I have hired two new staff, pa pa." "Huh?" "they have found work in this palace as emotional support animals, pa pa." "....ok." tommy voice "he didn't even blink, elizabeth the fourteenth" END OF ETHAN MAKING FUN OF THE BRITISH

By the way just to clear things up with you all, Tommy addresses Phil as "Father"

most of the paparazzi's pictures of Tommy are him flipping the camera off

He poses for them

just sees a camera and fucking sticks his tongue out and flips them off

He’s wearing some atrocious outfit while walking his dogs and he just has a full on fashion photshoot of poses for them

If his dad won’t give him attention at least they will

Tommy befriends some of the staff

he hates a lot of the butlers tbh

thinks they're stuck up

but likes to gossip with the maids, and sit in the kitchen as the chefs cook lunch "Heyyyy, chef!" "Your highness, what is it, are you hungry?" "Can't a man just talk to his chef? Befriend his castle staff?" "Ah."

that and the kitchen gives betty and walter treats

Top ten Prince Thomas microaggressions

Number One: he calls Phil "your highness"

For context, kings are referred to as Your Majesty

He calls Wilbur Your Majesty

It was a joke when they were younger, a habit from then on, but now it’s to spite Phil

Tommy spends an ridiculous amount of money on clothes all at once, purely to see if Phil would yell at him for using the family debit card for it

He never wears the clothes

He doesn’t particularly like any of them anyways

Instead he donate them all anonymously

Tommy may be a brat but he isn’t wasteful

By the time Tommy’s 12 he’s started acting up, and it escalates slowly until he hits 15 where things just start snowballing and he gets worse and worse

he's definitely nicknamed by the press as some sort of party animal or fratboy

a spoiled brat

He’s 16, and he knows his place in the family, he is forgotten and glossed over, but he won’t be ignored, not if he can help it

The Public gives him the attention he wishes his father would give him, he walks his dogs with the paparazzi tailing after him, just hoping that maybe one scandal or one horrible picture will eventually be enough to make his dad actually See him

he'll tell the paparazzi what they want to hear

and give every magazine a story to tell

they notice him

he just wants somebody to tell him no, somebody tell this boy no without being paid to please

Tommy probably has like, pierced his ears or smth. Gotten tattoos.

he has holes in his face yes.

he pierced his ears and his nose

He has a tattoo on the inside of his finger that matches with Tubbo and Ranboo

Maybe the picture of him plastered from last weekend will make his dad reprimand him

Maybe the weed found in his backseat will get his Dad to ground him

Maybe the bottle of fucking pills he was “holding for a friend” but got caught with Will get some sort of reaction

and its not like he's only doing it for attention

he starts it for attention, but he loves it he does

he has fun, he loves his friends, he likes the parties and the air

but, he also loves the attention, he's not gonna lie

Tommy who took adderall at a party once but it didn’t do anything for him, he seemed to function a little better actually

Tommy who knows Techno has adhd and takes adderall for it, Tommy who puts two and two together Bc he’s not fucking dumb

Tommy realizing his dad never cared to even get him diagnosed or treated

and Techno does notice, he does figure it out, but he does either a "hey..." or a "m8 I'll just get you your own if its helpin you focus" and tommy is furious

Tommy's life here is just

'trying to be yelled at HARD MODE'

Just wants to be screamed at, lowkey

I think, Wilbur avoids the tabloids

And the press

And the news

However, his advisors often read him the shit about Tommy - or anything about him

But they never see the pictures

They don’t see the picture of Tommy drunk on a strangers balcony

They don't see how bad it is

Tommy however? LOVES reading what the press has to say about him

Phil sees it however,

And he’s so disappointed

He gives Tommy so many talks but it never works

Because it doesn’t get him to love Tommy, to care about what Tommy does

Not like their mother

And he never makes a scene, not in the way Tommy wants to

It's all about "YOUR RUINING OUR IMAGE"

not: "YOUR RUINING YOUR LIFE"

He never asks if Tommy is ok

He never asks if he’s safe

Tommy's mum however, SO MANY AWKWARD "STAY SAFE" TALKS

He doesn't just fucking jump off shit because of her, he's slightly less reckless so that he can come home alive to her

I just think that Wilbur, no matter how busy, would find time to concerned yell at his baby brother if he were to find out about the pills

Weed and alcohol? Not great but ok.

Pills though?? He is full blown concerned Wilbro there

His brothers care. Their father is busy. He's a jerk sometimes too.

Wilbur does put out the fire a bit

He’s glad Wilbur had his best interest in mind

But man

The news headlines

They do him dirty

Shit like “Prince Tommy Caught Doing Cocaine at Frat Party” really fuck him over

They really just try their best to make him look like shit 95% of the time

Tommy loves it, just a little

Bad press is still press

He laughs at the headline Bc he knows he wasn’t doing cocaine, but Phil doesn’t, wilbur and techno don’t know that

It’s a tense week after that headline is released

His mom doesn’t even know if Tommy would have actually done cocaine

They just don’t know

Kristin asks him

She’s the only one who believes him

I think Wilbur wants to believe him, Techno too

But it’s hard to, especially when you’re not even sure you know your own brother anymore

Wilbur says something along the lines of being disappointed in Tommy, if he thought Tommy was trying to be better

Tommy scoffs and says he is trying, but that it’s real rich of Wilbur to be or entering to care now

This isn’t even the worse headline

One time a blonde kid got picked up from the same party Tommy was at on a stretcher, he had had an allergic reaction

Some shitty journalist saw and automatically assumed it was Tommy

They ran with the story that the prince had fucking overdosed for at least a week

The things they say are close to the truth but not quite

The PR Team tries their best to help but

They don’t even know what’s true or not

Tommy goes on a bender for a week, and walks into their office with coffee and pastries to apologize

They all know that presents mean a rough week of damage control

But Tommy imports them these Bomb ass donuts so

Fair trade really

Also heaven forbid tommy gets seen with a girl

It’s the worst shit

Tommy gets caught, drunk off his ass, pushing a couch out a window

(To be fair the people were moving soon anyways, they didn’t need the couch, it was a going away party)

And the next morning, recalling what he did

He orders up those pastries and calls the coffee place

Swings by to pick up the coffee and picks up the pastries all within the next two hours and delivers them on the third with an apology note

It’s fucking DAMAGE control

Thinking about Tubbo and Ranboo being Tommy’s DDs when they can

They are

When Tommy’s handler isn’t around

Them doing wild shit together but not Wild Shit

Tommy teaches them how to do burnouts and donuts in a fucking lambos in an empty mall parking lot

Ranboo goes everywhere incognito, Tommy practically flaunts his rank, Tubbo is considered a nobody and doesn't have to do anything but show up in casual clothes. He has a uniform for stablework.

Ranboo's parents are approving of his friendship with the fledging prince, as they hope he can wrangle Tommy to regality and he's building positive relations between the two kingdoms.

Phil is disapproving, worried Tommy will taint Ranboo and his rep and cause a tense air between the two kingdoms. Tommy loves Phil's worry, he practically bathes in it, it's the attention he so craves.

Tommy definitely will hold Tubbo's hand when he walks with him, because the headlines all scream Tommy is the gay?? and while he's very incredibly straight, he finds this hysterical.

Ranboo isn't always in Tommy's kingdom and rather spends most of his time at home. He might be second to heir or the crown prince himself, but he does have to spend time in his own country. Tommy face calls him a lot and he and Tubbo are ecstatic when he announces he's going to visit

I imagine he's second to the throne because that means he can focus on building relations instead of training to be king.

Older sibling Fundy, gets chronic illness, and Ranboo has to take over the throne for a bit

One of Tommy's worst stunts was hitching a ride to the Americas/Ranboo's kingdom without telling anyone.

Whether by boat or plane, he was gonna go visit his young king friend no matter what.

I say "young king" but he's still a prince. Just filling in for fundy

But all eyes turn to Ranboo and Ranboo is stumbling with attention he'd never known. Tommy has to help, doesn't he?

He expects such a punishment for stowing away to visit, but the headlines are... positive. Prince Tommy's friendship with Princr Ranboo becomes.... legendary, practically. Tubbo is always excluded from the news, even when he comes with.

Never too fantastical for classism

But no, the headlines see Tommy's visit not as the young, rebellious prince stowing away, but as a young boy risking his skin to visit his stressed friend.

Tommy is appalled.

And Tommy just groans and shows him the phone

And Ranboo laughs and goes

“There there Tommy, I’m sure dragging me to a frat party will be enough to ruin the good press.”

“Maybe get a dui, you’ll have diplomatic immunity so no jail time?”

“Boo, I wouldn’t get jail time even if I wasn’t em-mune, I am simply too poggers.”

“Sure man, let’s go with that.”

Tommy’s like “maybe I need to actually start doing hard drugs”

Ranboos just like “no -“ just “Please god no, your brothers will kill both of us.”

The Boo is terrified of Techno and Wilbur

Not as royals though, simply as Tommy’s older brothers

Like he knows about Tommy’s issues with validation and feeling unloved, he knows his Brothers are often very busy

But he also sees the way they look at Tommy, and the way they look when people talk bad about Tommy

He knows if something were to happen and he was to cause harm to Tommy or cause Tommy to cause harm to himself

It probably wouldn’t end well for him

Wilbur and techno try as hard as they can

But they’re SO busy

That they can’t do much especially when Tommy’s so persistent on doing his shit

Tubbo is great with the horses he tends to, and Tommy adores them. Ranboo is an excellent, regal rider and Tommy and Tubbo are more rough and ballsy, so races are fair and fastpaced.

Ranboo once got bucked by a royal stallion and Tommy and Tubbo never let him live it down.

I imagine Tubbo lives on the property, as some servants do. He either doesn't have a family, has a bad one, or his family doesn't live close to the palace.

So Tommy 10/10 sneaks to the servants' quarters and he and Tubbo sneak out to ride the horses.

I feel like Wilbur makes more of an effort after the pills and cocaine incident, he tries to ask Tommy about the headlines

Purples is Tommy’s friend

Rich family, old money

Throws a lot of the parties Tommy goes to

Purpled and punz :handshake: Tommy

Frat Boys

I think you guys are underestimating the time that Tommy spends at the castle

Like he still has school, and usually 3 days out of the week he follows around his brothers like an endearing little shit

But those 4 days where he’s gone (which includes weekends) plus nights, he’s doing shit

Also, yiu know Pongo right

101 Dalmatians

That’s how Tommy walks Betty and Walter

They are like standing completely proper and walks straight

ah yes, the royal bitches and also betty and walter are there too

the paparazzi taking pictures of Tommy and the dogs

and Tommy turns, taking his sunglasses off, and smiles big and wide "They have names you know? You should stop callin' them 'the royal dogs'."

One of the guys, he's familiar with the prince turns on his camera and asks "what're their names Prince Tommy?"

"Betty and Walter. Give them some respect."

Tommy visits Ranboo sometimes. Ranboo was looking for him one day and just found him standing in a long hall, staring at a portrait.

It's Ranboo, just barely younger, hands folded behind his back, the perfect picture of regality.

Tommy is staring at it because he knows that at home, there is a portrait of Wilbur looking like that, and one of Techno, and one of Phil and Kristen, and one of himself.

But somehow this image of Ranboo is.. haunting

Not because it doesn't match with the Ranboo he knows, but because it does.

It haunts him because he can stare at his portrait for hours and never see himself, but this is so plainly Ranboo that it's chilling.

Ranboo stands beside him, hands folded behind his back as they always are when he is in nice clothes and his eyes are visible. Tommy glances over and Ranboo is facing him, but staring up at the picture. It's still him.

The clothes are different and his hair is longer now, but Tommy can't tell the difference past that.

He knows that Ranboo is what his family wants him to be

He knows that Ranboo is him if he hadn't strayed, the same past

Ranboo knows exactly what’s going through his head right now

And he knows exactly what he needs too

They get fucking piss ass drunk in Ranboo’s room order takeout and FaceTime Tubbo

They can party tomorrow, Tommy doesn’t need to be in public right now

ANywyas

Tommy and his mother have a wonderful relationship

she teaches him literacy and history, they have a tutor teach him maths

they eat breakfast together every morning

the whole family does

but his mum tries to eat lunch with him at least 3 times a week

he goes out for lunch the days he doesn't eat with his brothers or mom, out to some resturant, sometimes, they trash it or party, sometimes he just brings Tubbo, no big group, and they just chill

With Ranboo in line for kingship (the way royalty works is that if the ruler dies, it will always go to the next in line of blood, never by marriage. Even if every heir was dead, it would still not go to the ruler consort but instead to a family member of the late ruler), rep is so much more important

he can't really be seen with Tommy sometimes

not on the bad weeks

not when Tommy just destroyed a bnb or set off fireworks with his friends, or was caught throwing chairs into his friend's pool

Tommy likes sport cars

big car guys

He has an exorbitant amount of fancy cars

its truly like

disgusting

how many cars he owns

Wilbur makes fun of it Bc the kid is just now legally old to drive

But Wilbur has so many expensive instruments

Some of which he doesn’t even know how to play yet

to be fair

Wilbur doesnt go breaking his instraments

Techno, techno has swords, which makes sense Bc he’s a general

But the amount swords he has just hanging on his wall

Never meant to be used

It’s so many

I feel like Tommy has a few cars that he doesn’t even let get scratched tho much

His babies

he has his expensive cars that he wrecks

and then his expensive cars that he treats like gold

They’re named

Clementine is this horrendous orange car that he absolutely loves

Its a bright orange ferrari

(He loves it Bc it was a gift from Phil, one of the first cars in his collection)

(Tommy doesn’t know that the idea was his mother’s, his father didn’t know what to get him)

all of his cars have padding in the back for his dogs

Tommy hates purse dogs, the girls with them are always fake and horrible

but he wishes his dogs were that small

Easy to transport

but they got all gangly limbs like him

and stand up to his hip

Henry is his sleek black classic mustang convertable

its what he drives when he doesn't want to be followed by the papp

It’s what he drives when he takes The BT to lunch

its not that the paparazzi doesn't know its him

they know

but he's not in one of his bright fucking obscene cars

The press and Tommy have a weird sort of understanding

He creates their headlines and they let him have moments to himself

If someone breaches that

They risk getting blacklisted

that car was what he drove to his grandmother's funeral in

im not naming his grandmother, but all royals live like forever

Clementine barely sees the road I think

She’s kept in top condition

By Tommy’s own hands

But she probably doesn’t get driven to the parties

Or the brunches

Or the clubs

She's used pretty much exclusively for black tie events

Tubbo is his driver for those Bc he trusts no one else with the car

And he has to exit her before she’s parked

So Tubbo valets and then meets him inside

It’s also how Tubbo gets into the black tie events

so its modern right

so its like thousand-dollar suits instead of capes

so, Tommy just refuses to wear blazers and suit jackets

he always wears his button-ups rolled to his elbows

Maybe, maybe you’ll get him in a vest

But most of the time it’s a button up, rolled up sleeves, and the tie is most likely incorrect or untied

The only reason it’s correct half the time, is because Wilbur makes him let him tie it

Tommy won't wear the jacket because he prefers to roll his sleeves up - he's able to do anything, party or just like rough housing with his brothers, or helping out the staff

Wilbur won't wear a tie, or a button up most days, opting for a high-end sweater and loads of jewelry; its just much more his style.

Techno won't wear a vest because it restricts the places he can hid weapons, and he almost never keeps his tie tied.

Tommy trying to walk past Wilbur to leave with and untied tie

“Wait! You know you can’t leave like that, come here.”

Tommy’s groans and slumps over but walks over to Wil anyways

“I’m just gonna untie it halfway through the party, you know i will.”

“Well, I’m not letting my little brother walk a red carpet with an untied tie, you know I won’t”

The second half said in a mocking tone of voice, very clearly mimicking Tommy’s whining

It’s a soft moment, they stand there together, brothers

And as Wilbur’s pat the finished tie, they make eye contact and both of them have undeniably fond looks on their faces, damn they’re brothers n shit

“Thanks Wil.”

It’s quiet, it’s soft, it’s Tommy

“Of course.”

Just as soft, just as quiet, wholly Wilbur

Wilbur clears his throat breaking the soft atmosphere of the room

“Now go, you gremlin. Don’t be late”

Wilbur ruffles Tommy’s hair, careful not to mess it up too much

Tommy rolls his eyes And quickly heads for the door “Bye Wil! Love you! Don’t wait up!” Wilbur quickly yells after him

“Love you too! Don’t do anything stupid!”

“Oh Wil you know I can’t promise that!” Wilbur just rolls his eyes and returns to his book

Yeah Tommy stays away from tobacco I think

Just weed

and I wouldn't be surprised if like hits peoples vapes sometimes, but doesn't smoke cigs

for sure, its stressful

Wilbur smokes cigarettes though

and he can't act out like Tommy can

and Phil loves him..

Techno and Wilbur watching Tommy rebel in the ways they never got to

They feel kinda sad, that they never got to be kids like that, sad that Tommy feels like he has to act out for attention

he gets to do shit

like he gets to be a real teen

the whole, dumb rich 17 year old experience

like yachts, and expensive hotel rooms, and sport cars

And sure they probably wouldn’t have been going to frat parties or crashing brunch places, but they see him with BT

See him have actual friends

And they’re happy for him

But it hurts a bit

And Tommy's hurting too

It's a lot

but its like

even if Phil wasn't shit

its a lot of attention

like everyone is watching them at all times

Techno and Wilbur have to stay refined in the eyes of the press

Tommy gets to put on a show for them

Yeah yeah

Do you know how much a drunk picture of Prince Tommy is worth?

Too much

Some random guy on his first paparazzi job, gets a pic of Tommy, shirt mostly unbuttoned, tie tied around his head, drinking out of a beer bottle, and flipping off the camera while stumbling out of the most expensive hotel in the UK

The guy never has to work again

Purpled son of some billionaire, and Ranboo a literal prince is with him

They are both laughing at him

Tommy swung on a chandelier that night

A picture of that ends up online, some socialites Twitter

The amount of people in her dms for that picture?

Ludicrous

Like just the random pictures from Snapchat stories

Magazines pay thousands

Yeah the amount of double takes people have done going through their friends Snapchat stories like

Just tapping through

“WAIT WAS THAT PRINCE THOMAS????”

So, Dessert Drinks

It’s alcoholic beverages that have like chocolate or gram crackers or maybe candy in them

That are meant to taste like a dessert

So there’s chocolate cake margaritas, or like s’mores drinks

They’re Tommy’s favorite things in the world

Everyone thinks that he’d like the like strong, burning, whiskey esk stuff

But no

He wants the sweetest thing you got

Like he’ll drink straught vodka, but not if he doesn’t have too y’know?

He also like wine strangely enough

The like really expensive wine

Bc it reminds him of Wil

They have it down in the cellar

Techno is the whiskey dude

Or like 1942

Which is just a really bougie tequila

He just likes the shit that burns

Tubbo will drink literally anything

He’ll eat anything too

It definitely comes from the spot that he didn’t have that many choices like Tommy, but he genuinely just likes anything

Which is why Tommy really likes to treat him out to fancy fucking restaurants

One of Tommy’s favorite past times is spoiling his loved one

Fucking loves giving presents n shit

It's his love language

Ranboo doesn’t pay for anything when he’s visiting

Tommy insists on paying

Tommy has millions from the throne, he will use it

Plus he uses his daddy’s card so like, Phil can afford to spend the money

Oh he has one of those black cards doesn’t he

And by he I mean Phil

But you know, Daddy’s card

Black amex all the way

Boujie motherfuckers

Tommy's drunk like persona is different depending on the environment

When its Wilbur and Techno having to deal with Drunk Tommy

He’s like an excitable puppy, he would switch from rowdy to sappy real quick for his brothers

So they’re trying to get a drunk Tommy to bed but Tommy’s 100% clinging to them

Just full of affection

Techno tries to leave to go study and drunk Tommy just looks so fucking sad

Kicked puppy

He’s very much turning on the little brother charm, full scale pouting, whining, nicknames and all

making grabby hands, sitting on thr ground, fluffed up hair, shirt all wrinkled

"Fucking - fine. What are you gonna do without me, hm?"

He’s a god damned puppy and it’s hard to believe this is the same kid who got in a bar fight last week

he hangs off the chandeliers of boogie hotels

he also trashes his friend's rentals

on the other hand, he hugs his brothers

and steals Wilbur's crown

when he wears Will's crown it goes over his eyes

Still does after all these years

He’s grown but Wils head is simply too big

Tommy has his own crown of course

he just doesn't wear it as often as Wilbru does

Wilbur wears his all of the time

Tommy wears his when

A. he's drunk and with friends

B. at formal or royal events

he likes wearing it when he's partying

still thinking about drunk Tommy and his brothers having to deal with him

He makes techno give him a piggy back ride

He can walk fine, he just wants a piggy back ride man

Can you blame him?

They all really miss being little

They miss being able to be kids n shit

when their mother took care of them

and their father did all the king shit

And when Techno would give Tommy piggyback rides in the garden

When Wilbur had all the time in the world to learn how to play guitar

Even if it comes from Tommy getting drunk off his ass they’re glad they can still find the childish joy that they once had y’know?

Techno gives Tommy a piggy back ride to his room, and Tommy steals Wilbur’s crown and they talk and it’s nice

And as everything winds down Wilbur plays his guitar

And it’s so similar to when they were younger man

...

but then,,, Wilbur gets called down for an emergency meeting

and Techno has to make sure the guards are doing their rounds

and Tommy's left all alone in The Prince's Chambers

and people wonder why Tommy likes partying

fills the time, doesn't it?

He wakes up cold and alone and hungover

And he calls Tubbo and they just fucking day drink man

It’s a bad two days

Yeha but basically after this night he and Tubbo get fucking drunk as hell and they don’t come back to the castle for two days

And Tommy is barely sober during those two days

After those type of days happen Tommy always goes completely straightedge for a week

He doenst need to develop an addiction y’know?

Plus the chaos doesn’t have to happen drunk

He’s pretty irrational sober anywyas

half of the parties he's at he's not even drunk

sometimes he'll get high

but he just likes the adrenaline

and just hanging and being fucking assholes with his mates

POV you are an emotionally wrecked prince who is hanging onto this present as proof that your dad knows who you are at least in the slightest and you find out it’s not actually a gift from him but something your mother told him to get you

He didn’t even think twice just called the dealership and asked for the car, didn’t even know which one it was

mmmmm Tommy wrecks Clem that night

It’s not a good night for anyone

Got drunk as hell man

No dd

Car crash

I don’t think Clem is totaled

And Tommy is ok

But she’s scratched and dented and it’s just a representation of how Tommy feels

Something about Clementine being symbolic of hope and the idea that his father knew him

And with that crashing down

Clementine was bound to crash too

Tommy gets out with some bruises and Clementine can be fixed

But it happens on a public street so it’s everywhere

Tommy wrecks Clem

Then fucking goes on a bender

just destroys shit

parties so he doesn't think about it

and then he fucking crashes

Wilbur and Techno and Kristin all know what the car meant to him, what it symbolized to him

So when there’s a headline and a picture of Tommy staring at a wrecked Clem, they don’t know how to feel

maybe he mentioned something about upgrading Clem to Phil, or offhandedly at family dinner

And Phil asks something like “Right and when did you get this one?” Very rudely y’know

And Tommy’s like, it’s the one you got me for my birthday last year, and Phil just says something about how he has to be more specific because he doesn’t even know which one that is

And Tommy feels everything crumble around him and he just tensely says, “never mind...” and goes back to his food

The other three watch the whole exchange like, “fuuuuuuuuuck”

And then as soon as dinners over Tommy’s out the door man

He’s gone

he doesn't take the dogs, which means he's causing damage

He doenst even take Tubbo

they can hear the handler hand Tommy the keys

Tubbo comes to Wil to ask if he knew where Tommy was and that’s when they realize Tommy’s going out to cause real damage

And Tommy’s phone is turned off

They can’t contact him

Tommy gets handcuffed

he won't get arrested, but he'll get brought back in a police car

he fucking like crashed into a poll on purpose

like it was less on purpose and more like he definitely wasn’t not trying to hit something

And then they fucking breathalyzer him and he’s drunk as balls

Straight vodka type night

there's a bottle in the cupholder

He gets out when he wrecks and you just see him dead eyed staring at the scratches on her hood

The dent in her door

The cracks in the windshield

And he just takes a swig of the bottle

He lets the police take the bottle and handcuff him, taking him back to the palace

Clem is towed back too

He doenst care man

this is bigger than party to distract Bc it’s all he’s thinking about even drunk n shit

So I feel like he’s absolutely crushed

he spends like a week or two in a depressive episode won't leave his room, won't talk to his dad

and then he asks his mom "why didn't you tell me?"

and she just purses her lips and and shakes her head

and he's out

he needs to leave

he doesn't need her pity

and he just goes to Purp's and parties

because he just wants to have fun for one night before he learns that everything is a lie

His brothers are there as much as he lets them be

Tubbo too

Ranboo would try to make it over after seeing the headlines

he gets on a jet

and goes as soon as he sees the news

cause Clem was Tommy's baby

He loved that fucking car man

And then

Boom

One dinner is all it took to ruin everything

Phil's just left like "what'd I do?"

Techno is straight faced

Wilbur rolls his eyes at Phil

And Kristin just looks stressed

She’s still staring the the door Tommy all but ran out of

none of them finish dinner, Kristin waves the butlers over to clear the plates

They don’t, and Phil is just so confused and frustrated and he doesn’t know what happened

Top 10 Prince Tommy Headlines: 10. Mourning or Disrespectful: Prince Thomas caught smoking outside grandmother's funeral 9. New Connections? Prince Thomas and Prince Ranboo seen outside Palace walking Royal Dogs 8. Protective Older Brother; Crown Prince William shielding Prince Thomas from cameras while walking down London streets 7. When Will He Stop? Prince Thomas continues his week-long bender 6. Another Frat Party: Prince Thomas found stumbling drunk after rowdy night at The Ritz London 5. Boy Crazy? Prince Thomas and Mystery Boy seen dancing at Crown Prince William's Birthday Ball 4. Is Prince Thomas's Rampage Over? The Prince seen hungover, nursing a coffee at London Branch Costa Coffee 3. Time to stop; Prince Thomas caught doing cocaine at socialites party 2. A good friend - Prince Thomas flew to the United States to help Prince Ranboo with new responsibilities

1. When is enough, enough? Prince Thomas crashes after driving drunk, arrested.

10 Tommy doesn’t smoke cigs so mans was just getting high at his grandmas funeral

he was real close with his granny, it was a sad day

It was because his father said something like “oh, I didn’t know you were coming Tommy”

It was his fucking grandmother Phil

Tommy just puts his sun glasses on, and sits as far away as he can

Number 5, the boy is Tubbo, Tubbo thinks it’s fucking hilarious, Tommy is pissed

Some of those headlines seem like they’re from the car month

Obviously number one is

But then the bender headline

Then the coffee one

And then the Wilbur one

They seem like a series of events

big month for the press

Tommys hungover and he calls Wil asking for him to pick him up

And Wilbur drops everything Bc he’s just glad Tommy’s coming back home

wilbur fucking glares at the cameras

Tommy's used to it

And then the press tries to mob them and Wilbur Almost breaks decorum

Like almost fucking yells at someone who gets too close

and Wilbur never does that

he's so in-line

he never breaks the rules

but goddamn if they take one step closer -

He’s been especially stressed, and all he wants is to get his baby brother home man

He’s been smoking a lot more since the wreck

He just wishes he could make everything better

Tommy relishes in talking to the press

Wilbur will clart someone who gets to close to his baby brother

The press who’s never seen Wilbur as anything other than composed and charming suddenly being faced with a very angry older brother who smells slightly like cigarette smoke

Wilbur in the Pogtopia coat but it’s some designer piece that’s expensive as hell

It’s his smoking coat

And it’s what he picks Tommy up in

So he smells like smoke

And not the tasteful cologne he usually wears in public

just like a dark overcoat

really expensive wool

Wilbur using it to cover them from the cameras

when they were younger, like 16 and 12, Wilbur would hide Tommy

like no one got a picture of Tommy until he was 14 or 15

Kristin really hid the boys when they were kids too

Tommy trying to peak out and make faces at the camera

it was illegal to get pictures of them younger than 10

like immediate blacklist

And also maybe some legal issues

Wilbur pulls Tommy's hood up over Tommy's head

And it’s very older brother of him too, he pulls it over to protect his face but then cinches the strings to be a little shit

Those Wilbur and Tommy brother moments comps exists in the universe too

But it’s just shit like that

Tommy has a great support system

He really does

His brothers love him

His mom loves him

He has two amazing friends and a bunch of other great friends as well

And sometimes he feels like a brat for throwing all these fits over his dad y’know?

Wilbur always tries to like, keep an arm around him when they're doing red carpets

And keeps Tommy sitting next to him at Royal events

but also like, steals food off his plate

and ruffles his hair

Tommy whispers the fucking worst jokes about the dignitaries and nobles and Wilbur has to keep a straight face

god thats tommys favorite thing to do

he tries so hard to get Wilbur to laugh and lose his shit

The fucking big boobs bit

But it’s Tommy whispering it to Wilbur completely out of context and randomly at a gala

ALSO

THE WHOLE EXTENDED FAMILY BULLSHIT

TOMMY HATES IT

LIKE WHO THE FUCK IS THIS LIKE AUNT TO HIM?

HE DOESNT KNOW HER

But Royal Families are always big on that shiit

They try to hug him n shit

And Tommy depending on how Brave n shit he’s feeling (how fed up he is) will either politely excuse himself or straight up say no and step back with a glare

he's honestly uncomfortable around the strangers

who say they're family

like he's too sober for this

He needs a god damned drink

But he’s in a vest and a nice tie and his crown is sat proper on his head

And he can’t have a drink

god he's like a little doll, he plays by Phil's rules

the crown comes on and he's the proper prince

He fucking hates it

he sips on Wilbur's wine, and does the whole "tequila for water" thing sometimes

Flask in his sleeve

Techno catches him with the flask once and is just impressed

god is that a look on Techno's face

He sees Tommy slip it from his sleeve and somehow sleight off hand take a drink

And it’s just a raised eyebrow and a head nod that says

Good for you

Bc techno also needs a drink during these events

Sometimes Tommy will spike his and Techno's drinks

as Wilbur regally sips on wine

Wilbur fucking also secretly wishing he had a flask during the drier events

Wine drink just isn’t enough sometimes

Wilbur puts on his best face

and pretends he wants to be there

and gives out a warm smile, and raises a glass

god he fucking hates it sometimes

and sometimes he loves it

but man, does he hate it sometimes

Tommy complains and Phil makes a passive aggressive comment about how

“Oh but don’t you love parties Tommy.”

Wilbur sits between them

The table goes

Techno Kristin Phil Wilbur Tommy

Tommy just sneaks another sip of the flask

he doesn't have time to deal with his dads shit

Slumps back in the seat

He probably wouldn’t even try to hide it after that

Not like Phil is actually looking at him

He can let the press have it

He doenst care

just like leaves the flask next to him

under teh table

and jsut takes large swigs from it

Tommy maybe having a group of his friends crash one of the stuffy events

Not an important one

So fucking dedication ceremony to some inane building

He just invites a wild group of socialites

It’s nice

It’s not as wild as a normal Tommy Innit party

But it’s not a stuffy fucking boring ass royal meeting

they just bring some fucking whiskey into the back room and chat shit

Tommy fucking has a group of friends crash this gathering

It’s not wild

But it’s not stuffy

It’s nice

Tommy even drags Wilbur back for at least a little

and that takes a whole lot of work

It really does, Wilbur isn’t even a little tipsy off the wine, and Phil been by him the whole time and it’s just been hell, he can’t get wiobur away from the “socializing” hes doing

but when Wilbur is a bit tipsy he just becomes more charasmatic

truly a king

Less someone putting on a mask for their father

A little bit more authentic

he's a natural, sipping wine with one hand, and shaking hands with the other, crown propped beautifully on his head, million dollar suits hanging off his frame

It’s nice to see his brother in his element

its a bit sad

but its nice

A little yeah, Wilbur’s

Wilbur’s leaving him, not really but

Wilbur being king is-

It’s going to be hard

Different

More than it is already

Wilbur will always love him

But eventually he’ll be too busy for Tommy

Just like Phil is

And it hurts

But that thought is what makes Tommy take a drink of his flask and drag Wilbur to the back room

Wilbur doesn’t have to forget him yet

Tommy looks real regal too

Wilbur wishes that Tommy could see what he sees

But he knows that Tommy’s self worth issues would take more than a nice hug and some warm words to fix

Tommy looks regal, and the gold crown really fits with the whole golden boy aesthetic

and he laughs, and makes conversation with everyome

and everyone eases up around him

Wilbur wishes that Tommy saw what he sees

also

Tommy and Ranboo's texts have been leaked once

Wow so many dog pictures dude

but also

:sparkles:state secrets:sparkles:

That was hell to clean up

it fucking was

it used petnames (which the public is never supposed to know about the nickanmes of royals fun fact)

and said shit about Phil

and detailed Fundy's illness which isn't public

and talked about meetings that Wilbur forced Tommy to attend

Tommy was terrified

Ranboo too

He was so scared someone would be angry at him for it

He doesn’t think he could handle be yelled at for this thing that wasn’t even his fault

like of course he could've not said it over text

but one of his best friends lives an ocean away

and his life is just all about secrets

dont make this something too

:sparkles: hackers :sparkles:

if someone god a hold of Tommy's IP, or Phone, or Phone number

dms

they could be using instagram, twitter, or snapchat to have some of these converstaions

dms can get leaked real easily

Mmmm you ever think about Crime Bous

Because all I can think about is when Wilbur does get out of the house, and just like every event they go to

Tommy isn’t a fucking party boy then, he’s just Prince Thomas, Crown Prince William’s baby brother

And they always get photographed and shit

But they have a great time

They’re always smiling when they’re together

Sans Wilbur being a really protective older brother, and when their grandmother died

It’s nice to just go get lunch together at that one specific cafe they’ve been going to for years

Or just walk the dogs together

Just hang out and be brothers

They sit at the same table every time, and Tommy has gotten a Raspberry Lemonade since he was 8

When they walk the dogs, Wilbur holds Walter and Tommy holds Betty

Sunglasses on, big wool overcoats, and pants that were sewn just for them

And they’re seen walking out on the streets during big events a lot too

To like take a breather

Tommy has made a habit of allowing the press to ask him questions whenever they find him

Wilbur on the other hand always knows exactly what to say to press that come up to them

He always shoos them off with a polite “we won’t be answering any question right now thank you” and a blinding smile

And Tommy’s making a face at the press from over his shoulder

Either like sticking his tongue out or making some sort of face at Wilbur

As he gets older, he stops doing it as much because it gets a bit tiring, everything is tiring

But he does it every once in a while, usually a sharp grin over Wilbur’s shoulder accompanied by a middle finger

when like press sees that Wilbur smokes like a lot

big thin

and I feel like Wilbur would straight up be like "its not a big deal, its completely legal"

and hes like smoking 8 cigs a day, but its fine

He doesn’t have an issue

It’s just a little stress relief

King at 21 is a lot to handle

and maybe the stress is so much that it becomes a problem

but hey its his relief

its legal

he's fine

That’s Wilbur’s mantra most of the time

he falls asleep in Tommys bed a lot, waiting for the teen to come home

wilbur does

he finishes a pack, and sighs, rubbing his eyes

The empire is on the brink of war, it always is

He looks in Tommy's room, its empty

And he sits on the bed, waiting

10 minutes later he's asleep

The sheets don’t smell like Wilbur, and Wil thinks that’s what makes it’s so comforting

They don’t stink of nicotine or Wilbur cologne

The smell like Tommy

and while that smell like expensive booze, and coconut shampoo

its perfect

and the dogs are in Tommy's room too

he's a little less alone

Betty is the cuddler

She’ll come up and sleep next to Wil

but she wont do it to just anyone

its a bond, its trust

its the fact that Tommy likes Wilbur

she growls at Phil

she nudges at Kristin, LOVES kristin

anyways

its lonely and sad

because Tommy usually doesnt come back

Tommy snakes back in early in the morning and tucks Wilbur in

Though most times Wilbur falls asleep in Tommys bed

Uncovered

Completely dressed

He’s lucky bettys fur is sleek otherwise his very expensive clothes would be covered

I think Wilbur more often then not will wake up with Tommy in his arms, and that makes him very happy

like, Tommy comes it at 5am, and just snuggles next to Wilbur

It’s makes Tommy sad to know his brother is waiting up for him to never come

But at the same time he’s always so happy to see him when he gets home

I imagine sometimes butlers come to get Wilbur for work, and Tommy makes them leave so that Wilbur can sleep in "Hello your highness, we came to fetch King Wilbur for his morning briefing" "He's sleeping." "Well, I can see that Your Highness -" "So let him sleep." "Prince Thomas -" "Let. Him. Sleep. Okay?" "Yes, Your Highness."

I've decided that Tommy is the big spoon

in these vulranable moments, when Wilbur is weak, Tommy kind of holds him

like obviously there are a lot of tims, where Wilbur wants to hold his baby brother

however, Tommy kind of holds Wilbur, like wraps himself around Wilbur, and puts Wilbur's head in the crook of his neck

this happens when Tommy comes home to find Wilbur in his bed

either this, or Tommy curls into a ball and rests his head against wilburs chest

Tommy has daddy issues

Wilbur has the weiht of the world

Techno has ptsd

Phil: fuck you my kids are completely fine!

Wilbur’s nicotine addiction

Tommys abandonment issues

Technos fucking PTSD

Once, when the empires war was getting really, really bad, and Wilbur had to decide life or death shit

He smoked a whole pack in a day

And then just kept going

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking

why wouldn't they stop fucking shaking

Tommy stopped partying that week, he isn’t ignorant, nor a fucking dick

He was Wilbur’s right hand for as long as he needed him

Despite how badly he wanted to party until he could see straight

His brother needed him

His king needed him

And he will gladly serve Wilbur as long as he would have him

He stood right behind Wilbur

Every decision

He was right behind him

Even if it meant constant decorum and constant royal dress, Tommy was there

And that was a grounding fact

If Tommy hadn’t been there Wilbur thinks he may have lost it that week

Sometimes the only thing that kept Wilbur’s hands from shaking terribly was holding Tommy’s hands

When the advisors and court had left

Tommy would take Wilbur hands and make him do breathing exercises

Wilbur wasn’t allowed to look anywhere other than Tommy’s eyes

They would get through this

Together

They would, Tommy would make sure of it

Tommy in the room also made everyone a bit nervous and loosen up around Wilbur though

Because sometimes they act like they can boss Will around

And Tommy is stone faced, and has the media wrapped around his finger

The court knows that all it would take is one “scandalous statement” from Prince Thomas to end their careers

Wilbur could fire them, but he’s stressed

Any other day, he’s a fucking FORCE to recon with

But Tommy? He’s here to ensure the best or their careers would end

And you know that Tommy has at least 3 sources in the biggest news outlets in the empire

He could get ANYTHING out there

Wilbur’s throne is the biggest in the middle

Two thrones smaller aside him

Within the like office / study / planning room

Tommy's hasn't been used until just then

Tommy finds it quite uncomfy

But he can deal

Also Tommy drops the nicknames for the week or so

No “Big Man”

It was “Will” and “William”

Your Majesty at one or two points

But that felt a little too formal for both of them

Too alienating

Tommy learned a whole fucking lot of fucking politics that week

Not that he didnt listen in his lessons it’s just that

Well

He can’t not listen if he’s not there

It’s different IRL too

Seeing all the decisions

It’s terrifying

And he’s exhausted

Dressing nicely and talking for 12 hours a day about politics

And life / death decisions

So many cuddles dude

Just permanently cuddling if they’re not presently working or “coping”

And I think

That although Wilbur is the one who’s going through it

When they cuddle, Wilbur likes to hold Tommy

Just in the sense that Tommy’s here and safe

In the midst of all the death around Wilbur

He needs to know that his person, his kid is alright

Plus having this one thing this one routine helps him feel a little on control during this out of hand time

:sparkles: Prince Tommy PR leak :sparkles:

I talked about how Tommy was close to his grandmother

and how he was smoking outside of her funeral

maybe it was during that time in his life

really dark place in his mind

smoked and drank every day

Wilbur smoked a lot during that time yet

they probably drank together a few times

like straight up vodka

Just they’re so young and so tired

and so its like, pictures of Wilbur and Tommy (and just Tommy) drinking in the parlor, and in the like, bar area of their private living area, dark eye bags, red eyes, just straight from the bottle

Both of their ties were undone, no jackets, sleeves rolled up to their elbows, Wilbur's top 3 buttons are undone, they're both like manspreading

like they're just at their lowest, particularly Tommy, but Wilbur was having an adjacent bad time

Tommy's hair is a fuckin' mess

HOWEVER, they're both still clean shaven, neither of their shorts or trousers are wrinkled or stained

They may be going through it, but the royal image waits for no one

How does the castle react? Immediate lock down.

Interrogations or some shit

none of the princes are allowed to leave

they have to do clean up

they write scripts essentially for Tommy and Wilbur to adress the press

they need to send out a memo that they don't agree with underage drinking

its all structured, scripted, and written by advisors (and their father)

major damage control

which is just not what Tommy needs right now, because he's like trying to work through his grief

and Wilbur has a fucking fight with his father about that

Phil does not care

They fucked up

Someone else fucked up

And now they’re going to be big boys and fix it Like Phil's going to Tommy's room to get him to look over what his quick press tour and Wilbur jsut stops him in front of the door "He's fucking grieving - Let him have a moment will you? Don't you know how close he was with Gran?" "You messed up. He messed up. Now you're gonna be big boys and fix it." “You’re horrible sometimes you know that?” “I am your father” “Then act like it, your majesty”

meanwhile Tommy: in bed, hasn't slept, major depressive spiral, cuddling Betty, Walter standing guard at his door, holding onto a blanket that his grandmother gave him

just - can't even cry anymore

just empty

Literally just despondent

Staring at the ceiling as Betty noses his face

like good luck getting to get up, let alone read shit

He hasn’t showered in days

He is very much not presentable

like it's only been a week or two since his grandmother's death

and he still is processing

He is no where near done grieving

#tommyinnit #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #philza minecraft #philza #technoblade #tubbo #ranboo #SBI #sleepy bois inc #sleepyboisinc #LILLYS NEW AU #THE KING THE WARRIOR AND THE PRINCE #long post

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gallickingun · 4 years ago

Text

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

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

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

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy?”

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, the glass box shatters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I can handle this on my own.”

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

His nostrils flare, “Yeah, and?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll call her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

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

Abusive father. Hospitalized mother. Deceased wife.

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

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

“Todoroki Shouto?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hana, it looks like your-”

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

When they finally round the corner, you stop breathing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hana?”

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

So Shouto has taught her manners.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it never comes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

“Yes.”

“And what about the cake?”

“Ordered it three weeks ago.”

“How about the-”

“Shouto.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Todoroki is fuming, to put it nicely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy!”

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The next few months are a breeze.

Until they are not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can see is his bare torso.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouto nods, “Yes, we did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Todoroki, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead it is just his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, this time it feels different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, and you’d let him.

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

Todoroki Shouto is by no means a small man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your turn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something tells you that things will never be the same.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, tonight, you’ve had enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can-Can I come in?”

Shouto.

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

“Listen, I think there’s just-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you, Todoroki.”

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

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

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

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

“I think I’m in love with you.”

To say that the world stopped spinning was an understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Todoroki, this is-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your lips are really warm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Shouto, I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that is a promise you fully intend to keep.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Momma?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tell daddy what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I’m not talking about sleeping.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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

#todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto smut #bnha x reader #todoroki fanfic #todoroki one shot #todoroki fanfiction #shouto fanfic #shouto fanfiction #shouto one shot #morgan writes bnha #my writing

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darthkruge · 4 years ago

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Anakin Skywalker x Emotionally Exhausted Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Like one use of language, Reader is just very drained, Anakin is soft and comforting (duh), uhh comfort angst? I think that’s how I’d categorize this? But I tried to go heavy on the comfort and like less heavy on the angst bc my last fic was angsty too lmao

Words: 1.3k

A/N: i didn’t plan on writing this week but i wanted to capture what im feeling rn. and anakin is my comfort character and i cope with things by trying to think of what he’d do to help me, as any normal person does. so this is me rambling and basically just… emotional exhaustion is real and please be gentle with yourself if you’re feeling it. i tried to keep my language very neutral in this, as emotional exhaustion can come from a myriad of situations and manifest in many ways. but yeah taking time to recover after stressful and draining situations is completely valid and okay. in fact, i encourage it :)

gif credit

If Anakin knew you had a stressful week or day or just went through anything that was tough for you, he’d make sure to be there for you in the aftermath.

The first time, he’d probably want to run right over and congratulate you for getting through whatever it was that stressed you, which you definitely appreciated, but he could tell something was off. Your eyes didn’t light up like they normally do, your smile didn’t reach your eyes. He knows you so well and he’d definitely pick up on it.

And sometimes when you’re drained, he’ll come home and see you awake but still and completely spaced out. It worries him, he hates seeing you looking so lifeless. In these moments, his main goal is making sure you’re taken care of.

He knows you have no motivation to do shit yourself, so he does it for you. He doesn’t mind being that person for you and he knows you’ll do it right back for him. So he’ll make you any food you want and bring it to you with some water to ensure you’re still getting some nourishment.

He’s aware that you have a tendency to just zone out for hours on end. You logically know you have to go to the bathroom or shower or something, but it feels insurmountable and you can’t physically bring yourself to move. So he’ll gently pick you up. And he carries you over to wherever you need to go. And he’ll stay. He always stays.

Very soft encouragement as he takes care of you. “You’re doing so good, angel.” “I know you’re exhausted; please just do this for me and then I’ll take you back to bed and you can rest again, alright?” “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Also he’s so proud of you for getting through whatever you’ve gone through that’s exhausted you to your very core. He’ll frequently say things like, “You’re amazing, my love.” “You got through it, you can rest now.” “You never need to think about it again, okay? It’s done, beautiful.”

He knows you’ll recover from it. He has complete faith in you, of course. But just because he knows you’ll eventually be okay doesn’t mean he’ll neglect you in the meantime.

He’s always touching you, too. He knows you like constant, slow motions because they remind you he’s with you. It grounds you. So he’ll be stroking your thighs, running his thumb across the back of your hand, weaving his fingers through your hair, etc.

He talks quietly, too. You sometimes have headaches when you’re drained and he would hate to make them worse. He always makes sure the apartment is dark as to not strain your eyes, as well. If the headache is really bad, he rubs your temples and places small kisses on them to help ease the tension.

Anakin is kind to you when you don’t have the energy to talk. He knows that sometimes, all he’s going to get is a hum or nod of approval if he asks you or says something. On occasion, you’re so far gone that he won’t even get that. But then he’ll look in your eyes and the love and appreciation you hold for him is clear. He’s not going to doubt all you have or be frustrated if you occasionally can’t voice it.

If he sees you start to go too far in your own head and get panicky or stressed, he’ll distract you immediately. Again, he knows you so well; he can 100% tell. When you start overthinking about whatever drained you, whether it be something with your family or friends, your studies, your work, something seemingly random, or something immensely abstract, he doesn’t judge. He’d never make you feel dramatic for being affected by it.

If you want to talk about it, he’ll listen. Sometimes you feel frustrated; you got through it, why are you still feeling the effects? If you want logic, Anakin explains that your body had been producing an intense amount of adrenaline for a long time and now that the “threat” has passed, all of that adrenaline has suddenly dropped off. That, in itself, is an exhausting process; it makes sense that it took it out of you. But if you just want understanding and empathy, he’s quick to give that to you, as well.

If whatever the situation was didn’t go the way you wanted or if it brought up some bad memories, he’s a shoulder to cry on. He wants you to get it out, knowing holding in those emotions is never a good idea. He tucks you into his chest, normally placing his head atop yours and just, simply, lets you cry.

He’s very patient with your moods always, but especially in those moments. If you accidentally snap at him he’s never angry. He knows you don’t have the energy to fully regulate your emotions and everything’s just in overdrive; it’s overwhelming. Of course, you apologize later when everything comes back to you because you feel horrible on the off chance you're not the kindest with him (which is quite rare). He’ll just kiss you, smile softly, and tell you not to worry, it’s in the past.

And if you’re in that drained, barely conscious state, he brings you blankets. It comforts you and he likes seeing you all bundled up and safe.

And if you want cuddles? Yes. He’s there, no questions asked. He’ll just pull you into him and let you rest. He knows that you’re sometimes not physically tired enough to sleep, so he just holds you. You might draw patterns on his chest or just stare off silently. Whatever you have to give, he’s more than okay with.

If you want, he’ll sing to you. The soft melodies always keep you at peace and you can feel the vibrations in his chest when you’re pressed into him.

Or sometimes he’ll tell you stories. Whether it be from childhood, old missions, the future he wants with you, or something completely random, it’s nice to listen to. He has an amazing mind and you could listen to him go on forever.

Eventually, you’ll drift off. And he holds you through the entire night.

When you wake up, you’re normally feeling better. You’re still feeling it a little, but being with him really helps revitalize you. Now, you usually have enough energy to actually hold a conversation. The first two things you tell him are almost always “thank you” and “I love you.” Then, you’ll feel guilty for making him help you so the third sentence you utter is an apology.

Anakin, as always, assures you that’s unnecessary. Then he checks up on you. He doesn’t treat you like a hospital patient because he knows you’re a bit embarrassed, but he does check to see if you’re feeling shaky at all. And, if you are, he’s quick to get you some food and water.

And he makes sure no one disturbs you. You don’t like it when someone sees you when you’re in that drained state because you’re immensely vulnerable. The thought of anyone other than him seeing you brings you extreme unease. So he quickly reassures you that it’s just the two of you. He’s not going anywhere.

Also, if your stress was caused by someone else, Anakin takes a quick little mental note. He’s not going to leave to go beat them up because you need him right now. You’re his priority. But he tries to keep you away from them in the future or, at the very least, make them stop or lessen whatever it is that made you so nervous.

Basically, he’s kind, understanding, and gentle. He thinks you’re amazing for always pushing yourself so hard. But expending a lot of energy, especially in the emotional sense, wears you out. He’s quick to tell you you’re not weak and that this is normal. He makes sure you listen to your body and just rest. He’s there for whatever you may need.

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if you would like to join my taglist, the link to do so is in my pinned! please dm me if you would like to be taken off. if your username is crossed off, that’s because, for some reason, i couldn’t tag you <3

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#megan writes #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin x gn!reader #anakin x gender neutral reader #anakin whump #anakin comfort angst #anakin fluff #anakin angst #request

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transsexualhamlet · 4 years ago

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asmr i psychoanalyze my favorite war criminal, aka calling out norman the essay

basically all of my thoughts on norman on one callout post because i care him (both manga and anime are discussed)

LINK TO RAY PSYCHOANALYSIS: https://chaoticgaymess.tumblr.com/post/646749875570196480/ray-81194-the-long-explanation

this is going to be ungodly long so here’s a keep reading, essay below the cut

((tw for suicidal ideation and self harm, brief discussion of eating disorders))

Disclaimer: no shipping is included here this is just about norman also they’re kids who call each other siblings

Thoughts: So you may be thinking, Rowan, why do you yell about the colorless war criminal so often? Well the answer lies in your honor the court hates to see a girlboss winning. Norman is a girlboss :) Yes norman is a tiny twink who can't lift a milk jug. And he is a girlboss :) Obviously I don't condone, um, eugenics and all, but that's not the point the point is that he satisfies my need for more characters like Levi motherfucking Calder from Unwind because I’m apparently an edgy 13 year old. Also all of his problems are violently things I can fix and I keep him around as a pet project because someone needs to give him a hug and slap him on the face

I diagnose him with things:

-pisces man :pensive:

-is he albino? Not literally. Is his skin so pale he would catch fire if he went outside at noon? Yes.

-autism: Yes I’m aware that calling him autistic makes him, problematic rep by perpetuating the autism unfeeling savant stereotype whatever but have you considered i’m autistic and I’m projecting also he’s L with standards? Anyway traits of AuTism he has: hyper fixation, canonically breaks and fixes things over and over because like ofc he does, doesn’t understand Emotion, hyperaware of body language at the same time as it all somehow flying over his head, low empathy, sensory experiences™, min maxed in certain areas, and I don’t think he’s got social interaction quite right? There’s something off about it

-gifted kid (derogatory) This is self explanatory but basically him being the smartest and the best in a competitive environment caused most of his issues, such as the perfectionism, the need to succeed, the lack of self esteem and ridiculously high expectations on himself, giving himself no breaks or time to relax, the “i must be productive with every second of my day or i will die” deal, the “peaked at 11” thing, the way in which he goes through life like there’s going to be a fucking test on it

-Eldest Daughter™ lmao. Norman’s always had to be mature, he’s always had to be the best, he’s always had to do the things Ray got out of bc he’s a snitch and Emma got out of because Isabella likes her. Norman gets respect from Isabella only if he excels, and her bar for him is astronomical. He doesn’t have the Mommy Issues that Ray has, but it’s because for him Isabella basically just reflected his expectations on himself, whereas with Ray it was more personal.

-low empathy (part of the autism thing): this one needs more explanation, but it’s not a bad thing in and of itself. Cognitive empathy is a thing and he can use it, but he does not instinctively understand other people’s emotions, or even recognize them properly, especially when the person is not like himself. This is obvious in Emma. Man has no fucking clue what’s going on in her head or why she does what she does, but he can predict what she will do in any given situation very well. He could understand the suicide attempt from ray he predicted more because Ray’s an easier equation to solve, and someone who’s more similar to him. I know he gets it because, well, motherfucker’s just as self desctructive as him, just in a more dignified manner.

-he’s got some sort of chronic illness. This is also me projecting and a headcanon but he’s got something going on, even before lambda pumped him full of growth hormones or whatever which they maybe should have Not Done but oh well. (I assume this just didn’t happen in the anime, since he’s still so fucking short) But he's So weak. He passed out when it was too hot. He passed out when it was too cold. He can’t open a pickle jar. His skin is too pale and he’s skinny af. He’s much more prone to sickness and probably has asthma too? But in the case that he did actually have something going on, I don’t think grace field would see the need to treat it, if it didn’t impact the quality of his meat? Isabella’s probably just “you have chronic pain and you get migraines? Great, take some tylenol and do some calculus.” Can’t say that probably helped anything.

personality type: ISTJ

Basically, he’s the most boring personality type to exist, and personally as an enfp i do not respect him. But basically this means he’s a fucking nerd that gets his projects done for school the day they’re assigned, is probably the president of the Anime Student Council™, and could probably get away with premeditated murder (ok actual istjs this is a joke don’t skin me)

The only trait that norman doesn’t have on the istj thing is telling the truth. Yeah, he values the truth, but like, that doesn’t apply to him, clearly. Bitch is a notorious liar.

The only other personality type he has any similarity with is intj, which is the same except it’s more rare and a purple theme instead of a blue theme. Sadly, that’s not him though, because although he can care more about some kinds of philosophy overall this isn’t the case and ray already occupies this personality type tbh.

strengths and weaknesses: This one’s kind of obvious, but he is aside from the crazy insane intelligence good at planning. Extremely good at planning. He can predict any outcome and figure out how to prevent it, using all his resources. For example he’s physically weak and someone could literally just walk up and stab him, but it doesn’t impede his progress on his goals because he’s surrounded himself with strong, mentally inferior people who would die for him in a heartbeat. He never gets stuck in some “everything is shit and i can’t do anything” deal like Emma and Ray do, he always works through it and has confidence in his abilities (in as much as he will solve the problem or die™. Weaknesses other than his twink body include his Low Wisdom score. It’s funny how he’s often associated with an owl, the mans is 14. He thinks he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t. Plus obviously his fundamental misunderstanding of so much of everything going on around him, the fact that he lies not just to the world but himself, his refusal to take care of himself and his incredible cowardice. His achilles heel is being forced to, actually confront his actions.

what he likes about himself: He does pride himself on his mental abilities, and his judgement, which in his opinion is the only correct opinion and the only correct way. In the past, he likes being seen as a leader, he likes being responsible for other people. He likes his ability to manipulate and lie, because he sees it as an asset, and I honestly think he enjoys being william minerva more than he enjoys being Norman. He prides himself on his unhealthy expectations and the fact that he is able to meet them. Honestly, he does think he’s better than everyone else, mentally, though it’s humbled by his self hatred. Cursed thought: If Norman had self esteem he would be light yagami.

what he doesn’t like about himself/insecurities: Oh god, nearly everything. His appearance, his status, his superiority, his physical inability, his own mess of a mind, also have I mentioned his appearance. He’s obsessed with self control. He wants everything he sees wrong with himself gone. And I understand why having control of everything is necessary and appealing, everything for him has always been rigid and planned out from moment one, he was even more regulated in lambda, and though he desperately wants to Not Be Food, he has no idea what to do with the chains now that he’s broken out of them. So he just wraps them around himself. Regulates to an unhealthy degree when he sleeps, what he eats, when he actually takes even minimal care of his own problems, what he looks like, how much of himself he lets show, the expressions on his face, the literal thoughts inside his own head he will shut down if they are not Correct. It’s literal self harm. Norman, please stop it.

motivations/goals in life/general philosophy: To be honest, I’m not sure he knows what he wants. He sure thinks he does, he could sure give you a memorized answer, but it means nothing. He wants to excel. He wants Emma to be happy. He wants to be perfect and for that to make everything perfect. But he doesn’t realize everything he’s working towards will do pretty much the opposite of that. He’s a crippling perfectionist, and pretty much everything he does is motivated by his fear of failing. He picks the certain path, he doesn’t wait for anyone else, he doesn’t care if it’s not nice. Emma foils that a most of the time because he cares about her, but it can only go so far, especially after he’s had so much time without her to develop a Complex. His philosophy is very contradictory, basically the tokyo ghoul “everything bad that happens to you stems from a lack of ability”. All of his problems are his fault. All the world’s problems are his to fix. If he can’t fix them, it’s his fault, it’s because he wasn’t strong enough, and not being perfect condemns someone forever, including himself.

how he’s perceived by others vs how he actually is: In most people there wouldn’t truly be much of a difference, but with Norman things are different, because, well, most of his personality in grace field is a put on, as well as the tough guy dictator thing he radiates after lambda. How he appears to someone is determined by the context of their meeting- the kids at grace field see him as a nerdy, weakish, pretty boring kid who is really caring and kind. The researchers at lambda see an obedient, beaten down and perfectionistic boy. The lambda kids see him as an infallible leader, ruthless and genius, a good man who knows what’s right. But in truth none of that is him. It’s a fucking chess game to him, putting on different faces, lying and pretending and treating everyone differently. In truth? He’s a fucking coward. He’s scared out of his mind and he’s tired and he can’t take pain, he’s obsessed with reaching some goal he deems is necessary that in the end is going to be his death because he doesn’t want to face the consequences of his actions. He’s taken on the role of someone evil, though deep down he’s not, he feels it’s easier to live that way because it strips him of his conscience.

interpersonal relationships: In general, Norman sees all relationships in a pretty dim light. He sees everyone as black and white, for the most part, and other people make no sense to him intuitively, he has to figure them out like a puzzle. He’s manipulative and not particularly kind, but he follows all societal expectations to a T, overly focused on his appearance and placing the person he’s interacting with into a Category™. So he can be truly kind, to people he feels deserve it, to people who he values and doesn’t see flaws in. He gets incredibly attached to people he loves, protective, though he often doesn’t take their own feelings on the matter into consideration, and he’s ruthless with anyone who he deems a bad person. With people he understands and relates to, though, things can be different. If he sees someone as like himself, he will drop all the social interaction police bullshit and cut to the chase of whatever he wants or needs from them, and he’s not very forgiving in any manner, if he thinks what someone did is actually bad.

Emma: Norman obviously cares a lot about Emma, and honestly views her as better than anyone else. He realizes her moral integrity and all of the things she has and he doesn’t, and admires it. Because of his black and white view, Emma is like an angel to him. She couldn’t do anything wrong if she tried. But he comes to treat her as something to be protected instead of respected, and although he realizes she wouldn’t like what he’s doing, he fundamentally cannot empathize with her and doesn’t try to understand her. Their personalities are very literally opposite. Norman really needs to fucking listen to her. And Emma needs to understand that Norman doesn’t have a single ounce of empathy and you really do need to spell it out for him. Emma can only convince him when she has logical reasons for her actions, which she, doesn’t often have. And Emma gave Norman too much slack, because she didn’t see past the surface, and Ray never wanted to warn her, even though he knew the dude was showing a bunch of red flags, because you know. It was kind of an unspoken deal between them. (on ray’s part)

Ray: His relationship with Ray is a lot more complicated than with Emma. He understands Ray, where he doesn’t understand Emma, and he can see right through anything Ray does. And this makes things really tense between them, because Ray doesn’t, take kindly to being psychoanalyzed. If someone perceives him he will deck them and Norman is just there silently perceiving him at all times when Emma doesn’t see it. They are both constantly in competition with each other, but they care about each other a lot, though it’s kind of in a derogatory way. They both recognize each other as fundamentally fucked up, and silently agree never to bring it up with Emma. They’re nice to each other when she’s around, but all pretenses disappear when she’s gone. Ray is always frustrated with Norman, because Norman’s never been intimidated by him, and though he tries his best not to be vulnerable around him, Norman can always see through it, whereas Ray can’t crack Norman’s fake fucking smile no matter what he does. Norman will always take Emma’s side, and doesn’t see Ray as a good person at all, but he still understands and can excuse him, he takes measures to be… worse than Ray, which is better in his mind, because it’s rational, and ‘not selfish’.

Isabella: She has always had ridiculously high expectations for Norman, and treats him kind of harshly compared to the others. Bitch has heat stroke and Isabella’s first question is a calculus problem instead of like, “are you ok”. She knows he doesn’t complain about anything ever and she doesn’t stop him from being Terrible to himself, because it makes her job easier. They want smart kids, not mentally adjusted kids. She does really care for all of them, but she basically overrides it, she gives them what they want, not what they need, lets them be exactly what they’re making themselves. Isabella is distant with Ray but gives him anything he wants, she’s close and super nice with Emma, but Norman is… it’s weird. Isabella is proud of him because he meets her astronomically high bar. But at the same time, Norman never really cared for her that much and has never pretended to. Once they discover The Thing, though, he has a revelation, and it doesn’t take him long to switch his entire perspective about her. He’s pretty much like. Oh. She’s like me. That explains it, time to treat her like I treat myself: fucking brutally. Passive aggressive as hell. The kind of energy the :) emoticon at the end of an email gives. He does like just go “yeah we should kill her” at one point, which. You know, ok. When he got shipped out it was hhhh really interesting because Isabella knew full well he knew he was walking to his death and Norman was like “are you Truly Happy?” and just went :) and she was like h u h and tried to get him to talk while they were walking there because she feels Bad about it and he just. Did not. He didn’t say a single word just kind of smiled menacingly at her and I think it was half a sort of rebellion and half because he viewed her as similar to himself and therefore felt no need to put up any front with her, no words were necessary for him to impart exactly how he felt about it

Lambda kids: His relationship with the lambda kids is weird and bittersweet. I think he really truly does care about them, they were in a similar situation to his and he wants them to get what they want. However it is not a healthy or beneficial relationship, they see him as a god and don’t realize that he’s killing himself to give them what they want, he’s basically adopted them when out of anyone norman’s the one that should least be in charge of kids. I think he’s honestly younger than them but I’m not sure if they even know. He acts like their fucking mom, and that’s from what he thinks mothers are like… like isabella?? Giving them what they want, not what they need, lying to them, showing a front, caring deeply for them but at the same time using them for his own ends. And it’s not helpful for him. He thinks he knows what they need, but what he’s doing is what they want. What they need is therapy,(and so does norman), and he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with using them as weapons because they love him. It makes him feel good, to be seen as perfect, to have people who don’t know how weak he really is. But it’s only making him worse, and he’s enabling everything the lambda kids are doing wrong as well. They need like, Yuugo and Lucas. Some actual adults who are actually wise and have the ability and the knowledge to take care of them and understand their mental problems and maybe actually address them. And actually be nice to them. But um sadly.

what he’s doing wrong: It’s pretty obvious, but… Norman, you maybe *shouldn’t* commit genocide? You’re not helping emma, you’re not making anything better. You’re not helping the lambda kids, you’re enabling them. You’re not helping your friends from grace field, you’re ignoring what they want. You’re not helping the world, you’re eradicating an entire race from the face of the earth and murdering the poor for the crimes of the fucking 1%. You’re not being a martyr, you’re a selfish piece of shit liar you little coward, you just want an easy way out and you want to die on your bloody fucking hill instead of admitting you’re wrong. Grow up, cringe little man.

why he went wrong: I think most of the reason this happened was the way he was raised combined with the kind of person he is. Norman would have turned out fine, if there has been good adults in his life who actually cared about his well being. Instead he got people who just wanted to control him and make him what they needed, and family who largely didn’t realize there was anything wrong. Ray being an ass to him most of forever probably didn’t help but well, that’s just Ray. Even then, he would have managed alright if he escaped with the rest of the kids because he would never have been separated from the experiences that caused the rest of them to realize demons weren’t all evil. In lambda he didn’t have anyone supporting him or telling him when things went too far, so he fell into relying on himself alone, pushing himself further with absolutely no limits. All he saw was enemies and allies, and things got stratified. He never had a lucas or a yuugo or mujika when he would have needed it, instead he found children who wanted him to be in charge and a world that made it so he had to be. Everything was an echo chamber for his worst thoughts, so they just became more and more dominant.

what he needs: To put it simply, he needs Emma and Ray to cut to the chase and slap him across the face and make him take care of himself. He needs to be forced to see everything for what it really is- this edgy 14 year old committing atrocities to feel better about himself? He needs to be told that what he’s doing is irrational, because in reality, it is. There are better solutions that he’s ignoring, both to his own suffering and the demons, and the way he’s going now no one will truly be happy because of it, that there is no requirement that things be perfect and this bullshit doesn’t make him stronger. He needs someone responsible to take the fucking dagger out of his hands. He also needs someone to babysit him and make him go to bed at a reasonable time.

i describe his personality through songs on my spotify playlist for him:

-outrunning karma by alec benjamin: this one super applies because it calls him out for making shitty decisions, being manipulative and a liar, and having blood on his hands in a very calm and subdued manner, that he knows this is wrong and yet he chooses to keep running faster and faster towards destruction, that he means to escape it through death

-empty by boyinaband and jaiden: yes this is a song about anorexia yes it also applies to norman i’m not saying norman literally has an eating disorder (but honestly it wouldn’t be far out of character if he did) but metaphorically this applies to his method of ignoring his needs, both emotional and physical, in favor of seeming in control

-toxic thoughts by faith marie: this one speaks to his gifted kid trauma. Man’s got perfectionism running his entire soul. He’s terrified of failing, because he’s always been at the very top, he’ll beat himself up over any miniscule mistake and forces himself to keep at bad habits that keep him Productive, but he won’t ask for help no matter how much he’s suffering because that would be failing, he fights with his mind, this song basically tells him “yeah i feel you but you need to stop that”

-no time to die by billie eilish: ignore the romantic overtones but this is emma and norman, emma who trusted norman and was lied to, betrayed, for norman’s greater good, and norman who refuses to feel or hurt because of it, who refuses to apologize or see himself as wrong, pushes forward because he’s going to Pass Away

-achilles come down by gang of youths: hhhhh it's like. His vibe. Obviously you can disregard the lifestyle specific shit but it's. It's achilles come down you have to understand it’s like the same deal as friend, please just like french and longer

-friend, please by 21 pilots: i feel like i don't have to explain this one but it’s more to the manga (not the anime where he kind of figures out he done did wrong by himself instead of committing unforgivable sins and still going yeah this is valid before emma is like holy fuck). He is like sorry emma I cannot fix anything I’m going to die :) *coughs blood* and emma going like stop it stop it stop it fuck you see you fucked up and i forgive you just stop don’t walk away while he’s like “no<3”

why im a repressed little norman kinnie even tho he’s my exact opposite: I don’t generally kin ppl like norman, honestly he’s an infj I have no clue how it happened but I’m pretty sure it’s because of my intense desire to project onto a little man who cannot lift a milk jug and has chronic pain and decides you know what I AM tired of being nice i DO wanna go apeshit. Also he’s a twink. A little bastard. He’s a terrible person and I go mood every time he does anything. I said mood when he fell out of a tree. Don’t know what this says about me, I swear I wouldn’t commit no genocide. He’s like the inverse of Yoichi Saotome, and somehow i kin him too. Damn.

Miscellaneous headcanons:

-man’s SO attached to his william minerva cloak. He’s a wispy little bitch, you know he’s wearing that thing inside the house, he’s fucking cold. It also makes him Look Important he can retreat into it like an emo middle schooler with an oversized sweatshirt

-although you could probably get Mad street cred from having two whole brands you know he’s not gonna whip it out and show off his lambda thing he’s incredibly self conscious and his chest hasn’t seen the sun in years

-norman’s got MAD laundry skills to be able to wear like, all white all the time while constantly murdering people. I think he’s the only one who knows to do the laundry. And Ray is the only one who knows how to cook.

-but even then there’s gotta still be a few questionable stains on that thing, but if anyone asks he’s like “ketchup” “I’ve literally never seen you eat anything with that much color” “ketchup :)” *coughs blood*

-he’s probably thought “well i have not literally coughed blood yet today so I am not legally obligated to take care of myself”

-He probably adopted much of his current personality from taking on the persona of william minerva. I’m calling him out for being like me, he’s a blank motherfucker, he absorbs personality traits from characters he plays! He’s just not in theatre so it’s a bit more intense!

-the first time he sees barbara Eating Demon Meat he kinda stares and goes oh cool! not for me and violently exits the room. Like it's hilarious bc he thinks that's really gross on a moral level though he understands why she would do it

-Which is even funnier bc I’m not sure about the canon on this but there was That Chapter Cover that one time that kinda seemed to imply norman eating demon meat which i absolutely latched onto because I’m terrible. He was just politely eating it. With a knife and fork like why dude. As to a possible reason for him doing that I can come up with, of course barbara does it out of spite, but man we don’t know the properties, if it had some sort of painkilling aspect to it or it was like, caffeine, you know he would, but he would Definitely not talk about it

-I kinda disagree with what the anime did in episode eight? It was good I liked it and the imagery was fantastic but also have you considered Norman could not kill someone with his own hands if he tried, or even physically injure them? That’s what his minions are for shawty. That doesn’t make it any less bad, of course, but the manga captured it perfectly by the fact of he carries around a dagger and a scepter in the capitol battle, but he never even raises it out of more than intimidation. He walks through calmly like he’s not scared at all but he makes sure all the lambda kids do all the actual murder, he just stands there impartially, clearly The Mastermind, as the kids fucking murder the queen of the demons. And I think that’s more profound because he’s, a coward. And he doesn’t realize being the one who orders the strike makes you just as responsible as the one who sticks the knife in someone. The knife is just there to Compensate™ for the fact that he weighs like eighty pounds.

-he’s more of like lady macbeth (because he’s a girlboss) than macbeth himself. He has blood on his hands, but it’s the kind of blood that you can’t wash off. He never killed anyone himself, and he cannot admit he never would have been able to.

-the last thing is that there are definitely epic things about the anime, episode 8 was my favorite so far, goddamn that imagery and the bitch walking through the city while it burns down with the screaming asmr going on behind him my god. We stan. But like the downside of, letting Emma and Ray get to him before he commits first degree murder makes the whole thing lose a lot of his value. In the manga (oh my god look at me being a pretentious manga fan please) it fit more of his ideas- he never backed down, and he planned for Emma coming and trying to stop him. Of course he wanted Emma to stop him, he wanted it with all his fucking heart he was pleading for it to happen but the man wouldn’t give himself what he wanted if he was held at gunpoint. He knew she’d come and he made absolutely sure she wouldn’t be able to stop him. So when she came and he said “you’re too late”??? It kind of said it all, in the fact that he was disappointed that he got his way. He still thought he did the right thing, but deep down there where he shoved all his thoughts and feelings he desperately wanted to be saved from himself.

So yeah, those are my thoughts. Feel free to eviscerate me if these are not Correct he is just my favorite girlboss who I feel the need to yell at

#tpn #the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #tpn norman #norman tpn #essay post #god why do i do this to myself #dear god help me this is 5000 words #rowan's hyperfixation essays

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