#we welcome you all with open arms

[theplantbish]

I love the Käärijä fandom for taking in and showing love for every artist, photographer, makeup artist, dancer etc who works with K, I love how they end up posting about how they feel the love pouring from the K fandom to them and I'm so proud of all of us for it 💚

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

can you IMAGINE if marshal john turns out to be the traitor? i think id be more heart broken than if it was caspian

[stupidrant]

I MISS YOU 😭😭 I HOPE YOU'RE DOING OKAY 🖤🖤🖤 MY NUMBER ONE ANGRBODA BLOG. A MAGIC SPELL FOR YOU 🪄 HOCUS POCUS BETTER THINGS ARE COMINH YOUR WAY 🪄 WE ARE GOING TO SEE RESURGENCE OF ANGRBODA LOVE SOON 🪄

The stuff you guys say warms my heart to no end 😭😭💜💜💜💜💜 Im forever grateful to have you all beside me

[blessedmoonsoul]

ok might be my third world privilege but if i had the option to vote for someone who I agreed with 30-40% of their policies i won't be excited or pleased abt it but I'd be in that polling booth doing my part idk

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Can I ask when the last time “dick worshipper”, etc. has actually been used by a radblr woman? Not a black-pill orbiter; they’re awful to everyone and don’t tend to last long here. I mean from someone in radblr, claiming to be a radical feminist or supporting radical feminism. I know it used to be fairly common years ago. So did political lesbianism, which pissed everyone off for different reasons. Most of those people either left or just don’t show up in my circles anymore, and those that do again don’t last long. So where is this coming from? I see it referenced but no recent examples. I am seeing a hell of a lot of recent homophobia from women in radblr though. Every woman I’ve seen addressing the homophobia has stated the misogynistic terms aren’t okay, again, even though from what I’ve seen it hasn’t happened for a long time. Whereas I’m seeing a ton of defensiveness and doubling down in regards to the homophobia. And there seems to be this demand of all lesbians and non-lesbian pro-separatist women to denounce the “dick worshipper” type comments, and it’s like, A) they already have and B) if they’re not the ones who said it can you stop conflating pro-separatist arguments with that shit? Again, this is just what I’ve seen. Maybe the “dick-worshipper” comments are all over some areas of radblr, but they’re not from anyone I follow or have seen on my dash for years. I’d say for the last four or five years the only time I’ve seen it is from women asking not to be called that--which, I agree, I don’t want to be called that and I don’t want to see other women called that. It’s just, I haven’t been called it or seen it for a long time, so something’s not adding up.

[oc-lootcrate]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ ★彡ʜᴏᴡᴅʏ! ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ ꜱᴘᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍꜱ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀꜱ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ ʙᴀʟʟ, ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ, ꜱᴏᴜʟ ᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ !!彡★♥

★彡[ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ ꜱᴇᴍɪ-ꜱᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴏᴄ ʀᴘ ʙʟᴏɢ!]彡★

★彡[70+ ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ (ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ!)]彡★

★彡[ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴄ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ!]彡★

★彡[ᴍᴜɴ ɪꜱ 21+; ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴠᴀʀʏ; ʙʟᴏɢ ɪꜱ ᴍᴏꜱᴛʟʏ ꜱꜰᴡ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴘʟᴏᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍᴜɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɢᴇ!]彡★

★彡[ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ/ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅꜱ!]彡★

♥★彡[ᴏʟᴅ ᴘɪɴɴᴇᴅ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ (ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ!!)]彡★♥

♥★彡[ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ !!]彡★♥

♥★彡[ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ !!]彡★♥

★彡[Qᴜɪᴄᴋ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ!]彡★

★彡[ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰꜰ ʟɪᴍɪᴛꜱ, ɪᴛ’ꜱ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ, ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍᴇᴅ]彡★

★彡[ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴀꜱᴋꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅꜱ/ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ! ɪ’ᴅ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇQᴜɪʀᴇᴅ]彡★

★彡[ʟɪᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ/ᴏʀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴏʀ ɪɴʙᴏx ᴍᴇᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʀᴛ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ’ʟʟ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ! ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢɢᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏ ᴍᴇᴍᴇꜱ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ’ʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ꜱᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢɢᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ꜱᴀᴠᴇᴅ! ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ɢᴇᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴏ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ! :)]彡★

★彡[ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ! ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʟʟ,  ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ!]彡★

[artemx746]

Do people not realise that a person doesn't suddenly gain full maturity and knowledge of everything when they turn 18?

[rpfisfine]

ahhhh oh my god.. okay. i will make a new separate tumblr account tonight (i can't right now yet) for these purposes. because in all honesty i'm a coward. i'm a grown woman and shouldn't be having these uhhh thoughts. (and i'm not judging anyone btw it's just that i'm quite paranoid. i have to protect my privacy for Unrelated reasons.)

but yeah you've already responded to several anons i've sent indicating that you understand What I Mean. which is so reassuring to know that someone has the same genre of brain parasites i do. You are a true visionary i can't stress this enough... also i could share some other findings that you may or may not have seen! i'll be in touch... (disappears into the shadows mysteriously)

[soup-soup-soup-soup-soup]

This blog healed my eating disorder, wdym

im glad if you are eating well, anon friend :)

[strangehellhole]

MP100 fandom is in distress right now, after the release of the official fanbook.

And i’m sitting just sitting here, sipping tea and enjoy the chaos.

Oh boy what a day…

[djevelbl]

Honestly? It's THEIR loss - for how much we grieve what could've been, I'm not sure it would've been as beautiful as you described it if THEY made it; if nothing else, at least the fandom cares. The fandom loves the game and cares about it and one day, if we're lucky enough, someone will care and have the energy to invest into making THIS version of What Could've Been into What It Is with their own two hands. Someone one day will come along, see the potential that lay within it, and Make It Be.

Within what we grieve, here, there's still a What Could've Been that can be turned into an It Is - if nothing else, at least we got that.

had some time to think and watch people watch the minecraft movie trailer, and i think I've realized my main gripe with it. out of all the directions they could have chosen, why did they go with the one they did???

like. okay. i watched both phil and mumbo watch the trailer who had very different and opposite thoughts. i think mumbo was right in that it seems like it's trying to be an absurd, camp, and silly movie that makes fun of itself. the style (how ever mismatched) leans into that and the humor seems to go in that direction. and I think for what it's trying to be (camp, absurd, making fun of itself), it will probably be an okay movie! the focus won't be on minecraft, it will be on the minecraft world, if that makes sense. the look and mechanics over the feel and vibe.

on the other hand. i hate that they chose this direction. minecraft is such a game of stories, of the hidden stories, of what you make of the mysterious and wonderful world around you. you have the end poem. you have the music. you ha e the ruins. you have new expiernces and wonder and fear. yes it's a big world, but it also feels small. it's just you! in this abandoned and recovering world. and it loves you.

it just feels like that whole aspect of the game doesn't matter here. it's just the surface level appearance, mechanics, and look of the game. it honestly feels more like minecraft legends than normal minecraft, but even then it's missing the whimsy of legends.

yes it looks bad. yes it has like four different art styles. I think for what they're trying to do it will be Okay at best. but what it could've been. that's the real loss. It could've been about nostalgia. about love. about the universe. about making your own world with your own hands. about the quiet emptiness left behind you now have to live in. those raw experiences that won't be considered. whatever

[allylikethecat]

hey ally! i’m actually really glad that you dive into so many diff tropes that there aren’t many fics for in this fandom (omegaverse, mpreg, etc) are there any other tropes like such that you were thinking about writing?

Omg thank you so much 🥺 When I first started getting into the fanfic side of the fandom last year after being just a *fan* for years, I was 1) shocked to discover that there weren't really any fics exploring these tropes (Hockey RPF was the first fandom I ever published fanfic for and that place is the wild west lol) especially because Matty is Matty and 2) then got really nervous that people weren't just going to not be interested (which is totally fine and what I expected) but rather I was worried that people were going to be disgusted or angry that I was writing these types of fics.

INSTEAD I have been met with the most lovely, wonderful, supportive community ever (give or take a few anons lol) and I am so extremely grateful that y'all have not only given my fics a chance, but have been so supportive, and encouraging and welcoming. Last year was absolutely awful for me personally, and writing these little stories and interacting with people on the interwebs that didn't know how shit my life was, was so cathartic and I'm just SO GRATEFUL. Like I know I keep saying it, but I really am.

NOW to answer your question - hmmm those are two of the biggest tropes that I *personally* was surprised not to see and was like "Welp, time to write it myself!" especially after seeing so many jokes about Matty being in heat when he does his little whimper moans on TikTok. I know it's not in the same category as mpreg or the omegaverse, BUT I am super excited to write a Vampire AU - as a proud millennial who grew up on Twilight this is my MOMENT and I am READY (everyone needs some Vampire!Fictional!Matty in their lives and I'm honestly surprised there isn't more of it because VAMPIRES!!)

If there are any tropes YOU are looking for that you haven't seen much of and are interested in, please let me know! I don't want to commit to writing it, but also never say never, and am always looking for different things to explore (and it also helps knowing at least one person out there is interested in it lol)

Thank you so much for indulging me in this Talk Shop Tuesday situation - I want to try and make this a weekly thing because 1) i love chatting about fic and 2) Tuesday is like my fav fic day for obvious reasons lol

Thank you so much for reading and being so open minded and for the continued support! I hope you had a fabulous Tuesday and that the rest of your week is the very best!! Thank you again!

❤️Ally

[chastiefoul]

jjk men coming home and finding you crying

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji fluff and comfort

gojo satoru

you wiped your eyes quickly as you heard the door opened. you took a deep breath, making sure your voice didn’t come as shaky as you said, “welcome home, toru.” with a big grin and the usual paper bag filled with sweets on his right hand he planted a kiss on your head. “i’m home baby.”

you were just about to let out a sigh of relief when satoru suddenly knelt in front of you who’s on the couch, blindfold off as his blue eyes stared as if seeing right through you. “what’s wrong?” he said softly, his knuckles brushing over your cheek with such a careful gesture. “what do you mean?” you tilted your head, cringing inside at the bad feign. “you can’t fool my six eyes, baby. also what kind of boyfriend i’ll be if i can’t even notice when my girl is sad?”

you tried to form a sentence to say as an excuse but the kisses he peppered across your face wasn’t really helping. you chuckled as you whine softly, “toruu.” the white-haired man cupped your face, a gorgeous smile on his face. “my favorite sound, baby,” he said, kissing your lips. “tell me? pleaseeee.” you laughed once more at his emphasis at the last word. “it’s really nothing, toru.”

“i love listening to nothing. we even have some sweets here as snacks,” he said, opening the paper bag excitedly. “i think you just want an excuse to eat it at 8 pm,” you raised an eyebrow, as he grinned. “nonsense, baby. now c’mere, let me hold you while you tell your story.” he put you between his legs, your back resting on his broad chest comfortably. you sighed out of wonderment, thinking how you could be so lucky, being this loved by the man.

“here, pick whatever. this one is my favorite,” he rummaged through the bag that’s on your lap. you looked at him with fondness as his face leaned in beside you to see better. “yeah? you’ll give me your favorite?”

“there’s nothing in the world that you can’t get, baby.” he kissed the side of your face. “now start from the very beginning.”

geto suguru

“if you thought you were doing a great job hiding those tears i have some news for you sweet girl,” geto’s voice was gentle on your ear as he wipe the wet residue underneath your eyes with the inner sleeve of his robe. “i wasn’t really hiding it,” you frowned, somehow not liking the fact that he noticed your little moment of weakness. “yeah? so you were just rubbing your eyes all rough like that for no reason?” he gave you a little smile.

yeah, it was a battle you had lost from start.

he put his arms around you, rubbing your back in a soothing pattern. “what’s wrong baby, everything okay?” you melted right into his touch, resting your head on his chest right on the calming beating of his heart. “yeah, it’s not really a big deal,” you mumbled, your low spirit was really affecting him more than he would ever let you know. his hand kept moving as he once again kissed the side of your head, a low chuckled escaped him. “you’re cute when you think you have a choice on telling me what had upset you.”

you laughed softly at his playfulness, knowing full well to you’ll end up telling your boyfriend everything. “you’re right. but can i tell you later?” you asked, wanting just this peaceful moment to last just a little longer as you held him tight.

“’course baby, got all the time in the world for you.”

nanami kento

nanami already knew that something was off when the house felt a little quiet as he arrived. and then he found you hunched over as you stood behind the kitchen counter. “honey?” you wiped your eyes with what you thought was the speed of sound but it was clear to both of you that you had been crying. “hi ken, how was work?” you replied with a small voice, a smile nanami didn’t particularly like plastered on your face; only because it seemed forced.

“oh no, we’re not breezing past it. come here my love.” and his embrace enveloped you like a dream, all warm and perfect. he stroke your hair ever so softly as he whispered sweet nothings. when you calmed down a little he sneaked a hand under your jaw, rubbing his thumb on your cheek gently, a gesture with amount of love you could only guess. “what’s wrong, hm?” he questioned you, his eyes shone with adoration; there’s only you in that moment.

“i’m okay, ken. more importantly aren’t you tired from work?” there’s a deep crease between the blond’s man eyebrows he heard you say this, as if that was the most offensive thing he had ever heard from you. “��more importantly?’ there could be nothing that’s more important than you, dear,” he said, knowing that concern was from a good place, like he was worrying over you, of course you would fuss over him who just came home from work.

“still…” you hesitated, but he kissed it out of you quickly. “want me to prepare you a bath, love? you know i can get the perfect temperature for you,” he whispered, coaxing you. and he was right, even sometimes he would get it right more often than you. before you could even mumble out another excuse he continued. “and while you do that i’ll prepare dinner, okay? i’m sure there’re still some ingredients left to make that nice meal you like.”

“no, i couldn’t possibly let you do all the work ken-“

“love, i’m here. you can relax, okay? you always do so much for me, let me do this for you,” he reassured you, cupping your face as he trailed your cheeks with soft kisses. you’re still not convinced, as he smiled over your great concern. “do this for me, please?” he tried once more and there’s no way you could refuse that. you nodded, feeling another wave of tears coming out of gratitude for your boyfriend., “thank you ken, i love you so much.”

“i love you too. and when you’re ready to talk, i’m here okay? always.”

toji fushiguro

he lifted you up, your leg instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist as he grabbed both of your thighs to support you. you tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, resting your head on your shoulder, nuzzling closer to his neck; not wanting him to see your post-crying face.

he sat you on the kitchen counter, putting both of his hands on the hard surface, on either side of your body practically refraining you to run away. “what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asked you who’s currently staring at the fingers on your lap as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. he kissed your shoulder blade, intentionally lingering a little long to hopefully calm your nerves. “nothing, i guess,” you answered nonchalantly, like detaching yourself. “you’re shit at lying babe, you know that right? look at the frown that you’re wearing right now, it’s almost touching the floor,” he said as he kissed your neck next. “mean,” you meant to frown, and you realized you were already doing that for the past hour. fine, maybe he had a point, so what?

“nah, what’s mean is when my girl won’t even tell me what made her upset,” he said, tilting his head confidently, his big hand on your waist as he rubbed your side. the look on his face was enough to make you relent. “fine… you’ll force it out of me sooner or later anyways,” you mumbled as he smiled, knowing that you needed a little push is all to sound your worries. “atta girl.”

“tell me all ‘bout it yeah? don’t leave out a single detail. then maybe if you’re up for it, i can show you that i got many ways to cheer you up,”

[prince-ashitaka]

Lets create a house where yelling means we’re having fun. When you hear a door slam you know it was accidentally pulled with too much strength, not slammed out of anger. When there is silence, it is Contentment, not another passive aggressive fight. The dog is no longer barking to protect, he simply just wants the cats to play with him. Let’s create a safe, warm environment that makes you feel like you can breathe, not hold your breath. Let’s stomp on the eggshells we use to tip toe on. Together we will make this house into a home. And welcome all with open arms into this kind and loving space.

[blessedmoonsoul]

genuinely believe the lack of empathy in liberal/leftist spaces is one (ONE) of the major reasons right wing/fascist ideology is growing and spreading

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki.