#I promise I’m still reading though and I’ll post eventually

[kazscrows]

Crooked Kingdom Reread

Chapter 4: Inej

I like that this chapter starts right off with Inej trying to escape on her own

She’s not a damsel in distress sitting around waiting to be rescued

She’s going to try escaping on her own first

The room was pitch-black, and all she could hear in the silence was her own rapid breathing as panic seized her again.

She’d leashed it by controlling her breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, letting her mind turn to prayer as her Saints gathered around her. She imagined them checking the ropes at her wrists, rubbing life into her hands.

My heart aches for her

But what I love is how she leans into her faith

Her actions and her Saints aid her 💕

She did not tell herself she wasn’t afraid. Long ago, after a bad fall, her father had explained that only fools were fearless. We meet fear, he’d said. We greet the unexpected visitor and listen to what he has to tell us. When fear arrives, something is about to happen.

I think about this quote from Inej’s father a lot

Whenever I find myself feeling afraid it comes to mind

Well either this quote or Yoda’s quote about fear

Fear isn’t bad, but we can’t let it control us. Sometimes it can guide us to make slightly better decisions, but we can’t let it stop us in our tracks

So far Inej has thought of:

Her past kidnapping/trauma

Her saints aiding and protecting her

Her father

And finally how Kaz would already be free of his bonds if he were in a similar situation

Van Eck could not have chosen her jailer better. Bajan was Suli, only a few years older than Inej, with thick black hair that curled around his collar and black gem eyes framed by lashes long enough to swat flies. He told her he was a music teacher indentured to Van Eck, and Inej wondered that the merch would bring a boy like that into his household given that his new wife was less than half his own age. Van Eck was either very confident or very stupid. He double-crossed Kaz, she reminded herself. He’s leaning heavily into the stupid column.

Van Eck is hoping to lull her into a false sense of security with someone who looks familiar from her past

Her tune will change about Bajan soon

And heck yeah Jan Van Eck is extremely stupid!

He should have never tried hiring Kaz at all really. Conning him is like signing a death warrant

She thought of Jesper toying with his guns, Nina squeezing the life from a man with the flick of a wrist, Kaz picking a lock in his black gloves. Thugs. Thieves. Murderers. And all worth more than a thousand Jan Van Ecks.

They’re her friends. Her family-

Then where are they? The question tore at some hastily stitched seam inside of her. Where is Kaz? She didn’t want to look at that question too closely. Above everything else, Kaz was practical. Why would he come for her when he could walk away from Van Eck with the most valuable hostage in the world?

My heart is being ripped right in half—

They are coming!

He’s coming!!

Just hang in there-

Bajan wrinkled his nose. “Let’s not speak Suli. It makes me maudlin.”

Right before this Inej had called him “Shevrati” Know-nothing in Suli

If you’re like me you had to look up what maudlin means

It can mean sentimental or even sick

This is actually super interesting because for Inej to survive in Ketterdam she clutched onto her Suli culture and her faith

Remembering that is what has helped her survive

It looks like Bajan has done just the opposite by shunning who he used to be

That’s quite sad actually…

She knows Nina will try to come for her, and Matthias will follow because it’s what’s right

And Jesper would want to if he could

But she’s so unsure of Kaz…

…without Kaz, were any of them a match for Van Eck’s ruthlessness and resources? I am, Inej told herself. I may not have Kaz’s devious mind, but I am a dangerous girl.

I love her confidence in herself her though

It’s beautiful

Inej knew better than that. She’d learned from the best. Better terrible truths than kind lies. Kaz had never offered her happiness, and she didn’t trust the men promising to serve it up to her now. Her suffering had not been for nothing. Her Saints had brought her to Ketterdam for a reason—a ship to hunt slavers, a mission to give meaning to all she’d been through. She would not betray that purpose or her friends for some dream of the past.

She’s offered the possibility of freedom and a chance to be with her family, but she won’t betray her friends

Maybe Kaz and the others were coming for her, but she didn’t intend to wait around and see.

That’s my Inej!

Once Bajan and the guards had left, she’d slipped the shard of broken bowl from where she’d hidden it beneath the ropes around her ankles and set to work. Weak and wobbly as she’d felt when Bajan had arrived with that heavenly smelling bowl of mush, she’d only pretended to swoon so that she could deliberately knock her tray off the table. If Van Eck had really done his research, he would have warned Bajan that the Wraith did not fall.

She said she’s not as clever as Kaz, but honestly I think she could give him a run for his money sometimes

Oh gosh

Crawling through the tiny air vent would be so horrible

I never thought I was claustrophobic, but reading Inej describe the experience might be changing my mind-

Like this quote:

Every time she took a deep breath, it felt like the air shaft was tightening around her ribs.

She wished for her knives, for the comforting weight of them in her palms. Did Van Eck still have them in his possession? Had he sold them off? Tossed them into the sea? She named the blades anyway—Petyr, Marya, Anastasia, Lizabeta, Sankt Vladimir, Sankta Alina and found courage in each whispered word.

…Finally, her fingers hooked over a door frame and her hands wrapped around the knob. It wouldn’t budge. Locked. She gave it a tentative rattle.

The room flooded with light. Inej shrank back against the door, squinting in the sudden brightness.

“If you wanted a tour, Miss Ghafa, you might simply have asked,” said Jan Van Eck.

He stood on the stage of the decrepit theater, his black mercher’s suit cut in severe lines.

This scene feels very much like a play. It’s almost comical

But I guess it’s fitting considering the location

It’s also just super rude of Van Eck to just be there waiting in the dark for her to try opening the door like that

Like. It’s so ridiculously dramatic actually

And then she attempts to escape

And she fails…

It does take three guards to hold her though!

Inej is so incredibly strong. I forget that sometimes because of her physical stature

“You are not going to find your way out of this without my help or Mister Brekker’s. As he does not seem to be making an appearance, perhaps you should consider a change in alliance.”

Inej said nothing.

We’re almost to the part shatters me…. and now that I think about it that’s a really poor choice of words because of what almost happens to Inej—

“… Where is Kaz Brekker keeping the boy?”

“How could I possibly know that?”

“You must know the locations of the Dregs’ safe houses. Brekker does nothing without preparation. He’ll have warrens to hide in all over the city.”

“If you know him so well, then you know he’d never keep Kuwei somewhere that I could lead you to him.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I can’t help what you do or don’t believe. Your Shu scientist is probably long gone already.”

“Word would have reached me. My spies are everywhere.”

“Clearly not everywhere.”

Dab on him

Is that cringe to say in 2023?

I don’t care. This is the cringe™️ website for a reason

Van Eck sighed. “Remember that I have tried to treat you with civility.”

*eye roll*

I hate when the bad guy is like “now remember I used to be nice to you, but since you’re being frustrating now I’m going to be mean and hurt you mentally and physically-”

Like I don’t care how you used to be

You’re being awful Now—

You’re threatening to torture her!

And he was always awful actually

He kidnapped her and kept her bond in a tiny room- that’s not civil—

“Wait,” said Van Eck. He was studying Inej as if he were reading a ledger, trying to make the figures line up. He cocked his head to one side and said, “Break her legs.”

Inej felt her courage fracture. She began to thrash, trying to get free of the guards’ hold.

“Ah,” said Van Eck. “That’s what I thought.”

All she can manage is repeating “Don’t” over and over again but then…

“He’ll never trade if you break me!” she screamed, the words tearing loose from some deep place inside her, her voice raw and undefended. “I’ll be no use to him anymore!”

It hurts

Every single time—

Van Eck held up a hand. The mallet fell.

Inej felt it brush against her trousers as the impact shattered the surface of the table a hair’s breadth from her calf, the entire corner collapsing beneath the force.

My leg, she thought, shuddering violently. That would have been my leg. There was a metallic taste in her mouth. She’d bitten her tongue. Saints protect me. Saints protect me.

Just. Chills.

Horrifying chills

Oh Inej, I’m so sorry—

Inej could not control her shaking. I’m going to cut you open, she vowed silently. I’m going to excavate that pathetic excuse of a heart from your chest. It was an evil thought, a vile thought. But she couldn’t help it. Would her Saints sanction such a thing? Could forgiveness come if she killed not to survive but because she burned with living, luminous hatred? I don’t care, she thought as her body spasmed and the guards lifted her trembling form from the table. I’ll do penance for the rest of my days if it means I get to kill him.

Van Eck made a mistake making an enemy of the Wraith

Bajan moved to place the blindfold over her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know he intended … I—”

“Kadema mehim.”

Bajan flinched. “Don’t say that.”

The Suli were a close people, loyal. They had to be, in a world where they had no land and where they were so very few. Inej’s teeth were chattering, but she forced out the words. “You are forsaken. As you have turned your back on me, so will they turn their backs on you.” It was the worst of Suli denunciations, one that forbade you the welcome of your ancestors in the next world, and doomed your spirit to wander without a home.

Bajan paled. “I don’t believe any of that.”

“You will.”

Bajan is such a sad character

He turned his back on his own people

In her early days at the Menagerie, she’d believed someone would come for her. Her family would find her. An officer of the law. A hero from one of the stories her mother used to tell. Men had come, but not to set her free, and eventually her hope had withered like leaves beneath a too-bright sun, replaced by a bitter bud of resignation.

Kaz had rescued her from that hopelessness, and their lives had been a series of rescues ever since, a string of debts that they never tallied as they saved each other again and again. Lying in the dark, she realized that for all her doubts, she’d believed he would rescue her once more, that he would put aside his greed and his demons and come for her. Now she wasn’t so sure. Because it was not just the sense in the words she’d spoken that had stilled Van Eck’s hand but the truth he’d heard in her voice. He’ll never trade if you break me. She could not pretend those words had been conjured by strategy or even animal cunning. The magic they’d worked had been born of belief. An ugly enchantment.

But it’s not true Inej

Kaz will always come for you

Always. No matter what!

Keep your faith in him

End of Part One

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[hazbinhotelxreader]

Yandere Carmilla x Alastors! daughter reader (platonic)

Words: 2.1k

Requested: I_Love_Carmilla_Carmine

“Here to Stay”

A/n: sorry I haven’t posted for a while! I’m working on my school and have been busy! I’ll probably be writing more again on the weekend! Sorry the fight scene is bad!!!

Info: the reader gets left to Carmilla to take care of, Carmilla loved the reader like her own child, and doesn’t want her to leave. And Carmilla will go far to ensure she won’t

Sitting at her desk in her office, Carmilla writes and reads her documents. During this time she hears a knock on her door, she says a stern “enter” for whoever is out there. Turning around to face the door, she sees..Alastor? And a young child, you, near him. “Alastor? What is it that you need?” She asked stern, a little confused and polite.

“Hello Carmine! I have some business I need to attend to! And I came here asking for a favor!” He states in his usual radio and happy tone, a large smile planted on his face.

“Do tell..” Carmilla waits for what he wants, wondering why an overlord like himself would be asking for a favor in the first place.

“You see this little darling? This is my daughter [Name]! And I need you to keep her under your wing for a while.” He motioned to you, gently pushing you forward to see Carmilla. Shy and young, you look down and avert your eyes from Carmillas, she really was much more intimidating.

Carmillas gaze softened as she looked down at your shy form, then looked back at Alastor. “How long are you expected to be gone?”

“Oh, not that long..maybe a few days, but this little darling won’t cause you any trouble!” He said in his usual tone, smiling.

“I guess I can make some time for her..” Carmilla says looking down at you. She had a thing for children, she loved them, and when looking at you her heart softened.

“I give you my thanks” Alastor smiled and knelt down to you, a genuine grin on his face. “I will see you soon my dear, make sure you’re behaving for Carmilla here.” He said and gave your shoulder a pat.

“Okay..” you say and give him a quick hug, Alastor hugged back and stood up, saying his good byes and walking out the room. You turn to Carmilla, looking up at her.

“Come now little one..” she held her larger hand out to you, waiting for you to take it. You hesitated, but eventually took her hand, maybe you’d get use to Carmilla when your fathers out for the next couple of days.

…

…

…

Seven years. It’s been seven years since you’ve seen your father…that man that raised you in your earlier life..the man you wanted to see again. You got use to Carmilla after a few weeks when your father didn’t return like he promised. You were young and needed comfort, and study life and household, and lucky for you Carmilla was willing to give it to you, along with a caring mother figure, herself, and her daughters being your older sisters.

Though, she did act a lot more protective over you. You never had a mother so you just thought that mothers do this and it’s completely normal. It went from small things like telling her exactly where you’re going when you leave the house, and then started to get worse to the point she won’t even let you leave.

She grew possessive and overprotective. She was still kind, caring, and motherly, just more controlling. She loved you, like you were one of her daughters. You basically were, you spent seven years of your life at her house, being raised by her, she’s practically your mother.

Sighing softly, you stand up, looking around your room, which Carmilla had provided you a few years back. It was a medium room, larger than the one you had at your father’s place..and Carmilla made sure you had everything you needed. Clothes, a comfortable bed, and desk, food, everything. Right now, it was currently Saturday, so you headed to the kitchen, seeing Carmilla already making breakfast.

“Buenos Dias Hija, how are you?” She asked, serving you a plate of food. As always, the food smells and looks delicious, she really was the best cook you knew.

“Morning..I’m fine..” you say and start to eat. You’ve grown accustomed to her Spanish, she actually taught you how to speak it a few years ago. Odette and Clara woke up soon after, sitting in the living room and flipping the Tv on, like usual, this is how your older sisters started their Saturday mornings.

Turning your attention to the Tv in the living room, taking bites of your breakfast, you saw they were watching Vox’s channel. One of the VVV’s. Carmilla sighed and ignored the tv, she never liked the VVV’s, to her they were respect-less or inane, she never respected them as much as she did to the other overlords.

You watched it with your sisters, seeing he sounded like he was sorta singing? That was normal in hell so you weren’t surprised but…what he was saying caught your attention. “So, the Radio Demon is back in town”

…

…

…

…dad..?

He was back? You stopped eating and moved to the living room, sitting on the couch and watching…oh shit..he’s back..and you felt yourself grow excited that he’s back, wanting to see him, wanting to hug him, but also slight anger with how long he left you.

You stand up and rush to the door, but Carmilla grabbed your arm before you could. “[Name]? Where are you going?” She asked, worried.

“Didn’t you hear the tv! My dad’s back! I need to go see him!” You exclaim excitedly, thinking that Carmilla will be glad for you and let you.

Carmilla tensed and shook her head, eyes widening slightly at the thought of you returning to that man. “No..no my dear..it isn’t safe for you to go with him..”

You look at her, confused. “What..? Why not? He’s my father..” you asked, why was she keeping you from seeing him? She trusted him right? She trusted you right?

“That means nothing…he’s too dangerous and I will not allow him near you” Carmilla narrowed her eyes, and yanked you away from the front door. Carmilla sends a look at Clara and Odette, making them stand up and head to their rooms. “We will not discuss this any further. You are not going out to see him.” Carmilla demands.

You couldn’t believe it, your father finally came back and now Carmilla wasn’t letting you see him? You decided to fight back, not obeying her wishes. “No! He’s my dad! I want to see him! I miss him.” You say and tried to pull your arm out of her grip, but she’s stronger.

“I said we will not be discussing this! That man left you, he is the Radio demon! He is far too dangerous for you to be living with him!” She raised her voice more, usually when she did raise her voice, you’d back down..but not this time. You wanted to see him, you wanted to see your father.

“Let me go!” You yelled back at her, pulling and tugging at her arm, not letting your guard down, not going to give in.

“No! Listen to your mother!” She raised her voice even more, her pupils dilating at your stubborn form, she grits her teeth, her sharp fangs exposed.

“You’re not my mother!” You yell at her without a second thought. Carmilla froze, then she glared down at you. How dare you say that. She is practically your mother, the closest thing you had to one. And here you were, wanting to run back to the father who abandoned you.

Her grip tightens on your arm, she gave you a harsh tug and pulled you closer. “You will not see him. Do you understand?! He is not your father, he is not your parent and you will never see him again!” She snarled. You looked down, starting to tear up. You didn’t want to believe it, but it you knew it was true. “And for your disobedience…” she started, then dragged you upstairs to a room. She pushed you inside, slamming the door and locking it shut from the outside.

You panic and try opening the door, banging and banging on it, begging from the outside to make her let you out. But your cries fell silent on her, her heart hurt for your cries, but she knew you needed to be kept away, she knew you needed to be with her, your her family. And she will make sure it stays that way.

…

…

…

It’s been a few days. You ave been stuck in that room the whole time, crying. You knew Carmilla was protective but not this protective. She did come in and see you, offering you comfort and food. At first you didn’t take the comfort, mad at her still, but you gave in after the first 3 days, you felt so alone.

In her office, Carmilla was gathering and working on some paperwork, when she heard a knock on her front door, she demands one of her hellhounds to answer it, and then they come running back with their tail between their legs.

“Ma’am..it’s the radio demon” they inform. Carmillas eyes narrow. She stands up and thanked the hellhound, making her way to the door.

“Alastor?..Lovely to see you. I see you’ve returned after all that time..how are you?” She stated calmly with false politeness and welcome.

“Ah! Well I was quite busy you know! My business went a little longer than I wanted it to! “He continued to smile and speak in his usual upbeat tone. “Now for why I’m here…I haven’t forgotten about my precious girl, and I am thankful that you have been taking good care of her, but I can take her under my wings again” he said and held his hand out.

Carmilla narrowed her eyes. You were not his precious girl, not anymore. He abandoned you, and she wasn’t going to let that slide. “Actually..she is quite happy here now. She doesn’t wish to go back.” Carmilla stated, standing up tall and looking down at Alastor with a hard glare.

Alastors kept his smile, though a hint of malice was shown. “Oh I don’t think I was asking there Carmine. I want my daughter back.” He said a little more demanding.

“And I say no. You are no longer a guardian in her life. You left her in my hands to raise, and so I did. You are taking one of my children away, a mothers child. Do not come back here again” Carmilla sneered, trying to keep her cool. Alastors eyes narrowed at her.

“Now now, no need to get so pissy, just hand her over and I’ll be out on my way, don’t make me take her from you.” Alastor threats. He wanted to see you again. Sure he left you due to some…business, but he still loved you dearly.

“Leave. Respectfully. I do not want to force you either.” Carmilla placed her clenched hands behind her back, attempting to look more stern and calm. Alastor tried to walk into her house, but Carmilla blocked him, her sharp fangs bared and a glare on her face. “Leave us be.”

Alastor chuckled, angered and irritated. “I didn’t want to do this the hard way darling…” he grabbed his staff (???), and hit it on the ground, weird black tentacle looking things came out of the ground, headed towards Carmilla. Carmilla reacted fast, quick on her feet she dodged and jumped into the air, her angelic shoes sharp, she lands a kick on one of the tentacles, slicing it in half. Alastor sent another source of attack at Carmilla, some green gooish power. Dodging once again, Carmilla aims her attack At Alastor, kicking him harshly, Alastor grunts and gets thrown onto the ground, his mouth and head bleeding, smiling and growling softly he tries to get up, grabbing his staff(??). Bug before he could Carmilla stomped on it with her angelic shoes. Snapping it in half. She placed a leg over Alastors torso, inches away from sinking into it and stabbing him. “You have 10 seconds to leave before I end your pathetic life.” Carmilla sneered with pure venom.

Reluctantly, Alastor faded off, the black goo covering and disappearing while he leaves. “I’ll be back dear” he says before escaping to recover.

Carmilla led out a deep breath. Glaring at the small amount of black goo that was left behind. She looked up at the picture on the wall with you, her, and Clara and Odette.

“I will protect this family …no matter what.”

[shibaraki]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: slow to heal and forced on sick leave, a lonely Todoroki Shouto decides to download the latest popular app, Enigmail, to cure his boredom. he finds you. the rest is… well. moderately disastrous.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, pen pal au, hero personal assistant reader, prohero shouto, strangers to friends to lovers, injury recovery, online friendship + eventual romance, feelings development, misunderstandings, identity reveal, pining, sexting, masturbation (male chara), making out + heavy petting, getting together, *slaps roof of fic* you can fit so much fluff in this thing

wc: 17K

It started unexpectedly—with a tremor.

Rather, it started with Oda Shuichi, the prolific villain known as Tremor. At the time of the incident his quirk had been unregistered, but doctors quickly found that it severely affected an individual's motor neurons. According to them the length of time that he has a five point touch hold on someone influences how long they will lose motor function—and how poorly their muscles atrophy.

Shouto spent three uninterrupted minutes trapped in his clutches.

“I promise I’ll come by and visit whenever we can. You’ll still get updates and reports through your work email,” Midoriya tried to assure him with that signature smile, brows drawn together into an almost pleading expression. “It’s just for a little while!”

“For a month,” Shouto pointed out petulantly. Nori, his elderly adopted cat, stirred from her place on his stomach while restless fingers combed over her short pale fur.

“A month,” Midoriya parrots. He offers an apologetic grimace and leans over where he lies horizontal, slumped and agitated, to fluff up the couch cushions behind him. The newly crowned Symbol of Peace obviously felt needlessly responsible for the situation at hand. Shouto had only allowed Tremor to grab him so Deku and Suneater could get the hostages out, after all.

“Taking a break isn’t so bad, Shouto. And Hawks told me you’ve yet to actually use any of your vacation days,” he continued. “Even Kacchan takes time off. Do you know how many hours you have to work to outdo Kacchan?”

“I’m sure you could tell me exact numbers”.

“Don’t be mean,” Midoriya said, dithering as he peers around the room, slightly unfamiliar now that the furniture has been temporarily moved around to make navigating the space easier. Thanks to an on-call specialist Shouto would still be able to walk in short bursts, but he’d have to gradually build up strength and stamina over the weeks to come.

A pleased sound reverberated in Midoriya’s throat as he finally discovered the TV remote, setting it beside Shouto’s phone on the arm of the chair. “Okay. There,” he hooked an ankle around the coffee table and dragged it a little closer. “If you need us to get you anything from the store just text us”.

Shouto grumbled. Midoriya sighed, fondly exasperated at the childish display. Before leaving he moved the nearby pair of crutches within reach, listing off all the things he can think of, “Hey, maybe you can catch up on Quirky Hearts now! Or read that series Iida said you’d enjoy. There’s that new app I heard about, too. Enigmail? That might be fun”.

The anonymous pen pal app, Enigmail, exploded in popularity after its release in the spring. Shouto barely knew a thing about it, only that you needed to be over eighteen and chatting partners were assigned at random. Nothing about that sounded tempting.

Midoriya’s suggestion hung over his head for the rest of that afternoon. Quirky Hearts droned on in the background. Halfway through the first episode Shouto had yet to retain any information. Nori hardly left her spot. Jaws stretched wide around a yawn, lips pulled back to display what remained of her teeth. He liked to think she sensed his inner turmoil, though realistically, she was likely too lazy to move.

Curiosity prevailed in the end. The logo featured a pink post mounted mailbox, the slot unhinged to receive a folded paper plane. Shouto opened the app onto a pretty basic interface that followed an almost pastel theme. The profiles are barebones. He supposed that was purposeful. It asked for pronouns and a nickname, offering the option to pick an icon from their default library, but nothing more.

From what he could discern skimming over the rules he would be assigned to a random chat room with another person in a speed dating style interaction. A timer would count down from two minutes and upon completion prompt the user to either switch partners or remain talking.

A simple concept. But anything had sounded better than sulking horizontally and staring dead eyed at reality television for the remainder of his night. And when was the last time he met somebody new?

Almost every username he could think up had been taken. Even his hero name was unavailable. In a last ditch effort he settled on a miraculously accepted Sooba and scrolled through the icons. “Hey, it looks like you,” he murmured, pleased by the regal white cat icon. She hadn’t heard him, but sunk her dull claws into the meat of his forearm as he turned the image to her, those dramatic yellow eyes dilating at his coo, “Don’t worry. You’re the only Nori in my life”.

Shouto clicked start.

The first few users are odd, and without tact. Others communicated in languages he couldn’t understand. He stuck around regardless—luckily the developers had thought to include a translation tool, and Shouto managed to befriend one or two people with innocuous pictures he’d taken on previous patrols alone.

Then there’s…

XpLoveGuest ▻ Hey sexy

By that point early evening had already flooded through his balcony doors and drenched everything in a gauzy orange glow. His nose wrinkled. “You have no idea what I look like,” he thought aloud, switching to his right hand to roll the ache from his left wrist

▻ ASL?

Shouto frowned in faint confusion. He minimised the app to search up the term. Results flowed in, and after a brief look over everything he discovered they all repeated the same description. It’s an old acronym.

His thumbs tapped across the keyboard in quick succession.

Sooba ▻ Age: 27 ▻ Location: Tokyo ▻ Sex: No thank you

The chat immediately disappeared. A loading symbol blinks in the centre of the screen. He snorted, and suddenly a new chat opened with a different username blinking at the top corner. It’s a bit on the nose.

‘InsertNameHere’.

You shared the same default cat icon, which he took as an immediate plus.

But a minute elapsed and nobody spoke. There was an unusual trepidation on your part. Shouto chewed his bottom lip. He contemplated starting the conversation when suddenly three dots skipped across the screen, indicating the other user was typing something.

InsertNameHere ▻ You’re not going to send me a picture of your dick, are you? ▻ If you have one that is.

Shouto’s mouth parted in soft surprise, then pressing defensively thin, and he had glanced around his living room as though someone were there to witness this weirdness alongside him.

Sooba ▻ I have one.

InsertNameHere ▻ Ok. Well I don’t want to see it.

Sooba ▻ It sounds like you see a lot of dicks.

Not once taking his eyes away from the screen, Shouto felt for the TV remote and paused the show, brow arching at your next response.

InsertNameHere ▻ And it sounds like you’re new here.

Sooba ▻ I am. My friend recommended I try this to cure my boredom while I recover.

A few beats passed. He eyed the countdown looming over your shared interaction, conscious of how little time is left. You were the first interesting person he’s come across. Though he supposed that isn’t saying much.

InsertNameHere ▻ Recover? That sounds bad. Are you alright?

Sooba ▻ Injury at work. I’ll be fine in a few weeks.

Just as you were beginning to respond, the timer cut out. Shouto reflexively expelled his frustration and Nori lifted her head toward the abrupt movement of his chest, ears twitching. She blinked up at him in disapproval for shaking her. “Sorry sweet girl,” he murmured, wearing a small smile as he scratched under her chin. So temperamental.

A familiar pop up in the cartoonish shape of a postcard covered the chat. Your messages blurred into the background. It read: Do you wish to continue corresponding?

Shouto clicked ‘Yes’. And apparently you did too, because your contact pinned itself to his in-app mailbox.

A melodic chime pinged from his phone. Confetti burst across the off white background in pixelated blooms.

✎ CONGRATULATIONS! You have a new pen pal ✐

InsertNameHere ▻ Guess I can keep you company in the meantime. ▻ You’re the only sane person I’ve come across so far.

Shouto smiled, even as the muscles in his cheeks protested. It’s a stubborn reminder of his condition. He repositioned himself to lessen the strain on his wrists, chin tucked to his chest where his phone is propped, and said:

Sooba ▻ I’d like that. :)

The fortnight that followed is slow to pass. An endless cycle of wake, stretch, eat, lightly exercise as instructed by his physiotherapist, play with Nori, eat, watch Quirky Hearts, stretch. Midoriya stopped by, bringing Iida along with him. Jirou sent him playlists to listen to. Fuyumi called every evening and shared the phone with his mother, gentle in their fretting. He assures them all that he’s coping just fine from the Shouto-shaped depression in his couch cushions.

But there’s also you; the stream of consciousness keeping his seams together, lest he fall apart from the complete and utter boredom he’s been forced to endure. In the beginning he wasn’t sure of the rules. Talking online is not his forte and neither is making new friends. That entire first morning was spent ruminating whether or not texting you ‘good morning’ was strange, and estimating how many times was appropriate to message you before he violated some invisible social boundary.

Normal had been irrelevant until now. Normal, to Shouto, consisted of avoiding his father’s phone calls, sending the occasional concussive text message—indecipherable to even the greatest cryptanalysts—and giving Nori updates in the 1A Grad group chat.

Sometimes he’ll open the app to see you typing, pausing, typing. Imagining you, a faceless someone, equally uncertain about your footing pleases him a little. In the end he figured if you didn’t want to talk to him, you wouldn’t respond. Evidenced by how you often saved him the trouble by messaging first, sometimes as early as five o'clock in the morning. Apparently you worked irregular hours in a rather unpredictable industry. Shouto weighs the possibility that you might be a fellow hero—or something close—more than he cared to admit.

Any trepidation he felt would always dwindle as soon as a notification lit up on the screen. He reads your username and his insides turn over.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ve escaped to the break room. ▻ Do you ever think about how we don’t have muscles in our fingers? How fucked up is that?

Shouto smirks, pulled away from the conversation at hand. He unlocks the phone in his lap, beneath the kotatsu to remain hidden, an attempt at being inconspicuous as he replies.

Sooba ▻ I try not to think too much about anything.

You throw back a few laughing emoticons and satisfaction washes over him. “You’ve been texting a lot. Who’s got you smiling like that?” Natsuo asks slyly. He’s cross legged, tie tossed irreverently over his shoulder, shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, having come straight from work. “A special someone?”

Shouto forces the muscles in his face to relax into feigned nonchalance. “Nobody. Nothing,” he says unconvincingly.

Rei enters the room with a modest tray of dango before Natsuo can open his big mouth. She’s wearing a bi-coloured hoodie. The sleeves slip as she sets the treats down on the table beside the green tea Fuyumi brewed earlier; another gift from Yaoyorozu’s family travels. Natsuo’s face twitches under Shouto’s unbroken stare, which is daring him to bring it up while their mother is here.

Then his phone vibrates and any possibility of peace is shattered.

His mother glances curiously at him, expression soft in the dewy afternoon light, and she smiles. “Are you speaking to one of your friends?” she asks. “Please tell Deku ‘thank you’ for sending me your new Shouto hoodie. It’s very warm”.

The words fill something cavernous inside him. Soothes the ache with gentle wonderment. She smiles down at his hero logo printed proudly across her chest, rubbing the hem between her finger and thumb. A younger Shouto could have only ever imagined it.

“I’m not so sure it’s a friend this time,” Natsuo teases, spoken with a playful, sing-song cadence. “Shouto wouldn’t text at the table and risk facing Fuyumi’s wrath just for a friend”.

Shouto does not pout. “I would risk anything for my friends,” he says, affronted; anything maybe except his older sister's well intentioned nagging. “…It’s a new friend, that’s all”.

Rei perks up, settling on her knees and laying the kotatsu blanket over her thighs. The quiet sound of plates and cups clinking together fade in from the kitchen. Natsuo hums, unconvinced, and hides a smile behind his mug. It's moments like this, when the people he loves are gathered in one place, and he can hear them in every corner of his home, that he’s glad for buying a smaller apartment.

“That’s wonderful, Shouto,” Rei murmurs as Fuyumi pads into the room, Nori not long behind her, threading through his elder sister's ankles. She too arrived right after work, donning a suit-skirt and blouse. “What’s their name?”

His thoughts stutter. Fuyumi’s nose wrinkles seeing the panic stark on his face. “Who are we talking about?”

“Beats me. Ask him,” Natsuo says, taking a stick of dango between his teeth as he tries not to grin when Shouto’s phone vibrates a second time. “I want to know who’s so eager to talk to my little brother”.

InsertNameHere ▻ Sooooobaaaaaaa ▻ I’m on my lunch keep me company

Shouto snatches up his phone to respond. He brings it closer to his face to allow Nori access to his lap. She monopolises the space instantly. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Shouto,” Fuyumi laments. “No phones during family time”.

“I know. I’m sorry, nee-san. I just need to…” his thumbs dance over the keyboard, head ducked in amalgamated shame and apology.

Sooba ▻ Question ▻ InsertNameHere ▻ What is your name?

InsertNameHere ▻ At the personal info stage already? You move fast. ▻ Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.

That stirs a faint unease in his gut and he understands better then. Anonymity is what gives people a sense of security and he isn’t exempt from that. In truth, right now he doesn’t want to know what might change if you knew who was on the other end yet.

Sooba ▻ You can call me whatever you want.

“Shouto”.

InsertNameHere ▻ That’s not even a line is it. ▻ Man. You’re dangerous.

Sooba ▻ ???

Shouto stares at the flickering dots by your username. You type, then stop. Type, then stop. As if you were deleting and starting over again. A habit of yours he’s quite endeared to. “Shouto!” Fuyumi huffs, poking a manicured finger into his side. Though short, the nail still causes him to flinch, and he’s quick to stretch his phone out of reach as her hand swipes through the air. “I mean it!”

Nori is jolted. She voices her immediate displeasure and Rei titters into her sleeve. The sleeve with his name stitched into the fabric. He breath catches, like it always does when his mother laughs. “Shouto doesn’t have to tell us anything until he’s ready,” she assured, offering him a gentle look—a look so sincere he feels awful for being evasive.

And his feeble resolve fractures.

“I don’t know,” he confesses bluntly. Natsuo and Fuyumi frown, at one another and then back at him, in unsettling synchrony cultivated through siblinghood. Shouto shrugs and pulls at a stray thread in his jeans cut loose under Nori’s claws, “I can’t tell you a name because I don’t know it”.

Natsuo appears mildly surprised. Fuyumi sinks into disbelief, feet curled beneath her body, going lax at his side. She drops her arm. “You… don’t know it?” she repeats.

“The app is anonymous,” he supplies hastily, attention flickering to his mother, far more worried about discerning her reaction. She’s unreadable. “My name isn’t on there either. We just talk about stuff”.

“Stuff?” his siblings' voices overlap, told apart only by the difference in tone. Natsuo’s shock has melted into some strange mix of pride and innuendo. “Is it that penpal thing everyone has been talking about? Enigma?”

“Enigmail,” he mutters. Natsuo lights up. Fuyumi does not share the sentiment.

“You’re a hero, Shouto! What if it’s someone with bad intentions?” she frets, brows drawn down and together, mouth pressed thin. “They could be tricking you. The internet is rife with predators, and—!”

“Nee-san. I’m a grown man. I understand the importance of internet safety,” Shouto interjects.

Natsuo slumps onto the table with a mawkish sigh, the sound steeped in fondness. “Let him have fun. You know he’s right, ‘Yumi, he’s an adult. It’s a wonder where all that time went,” he says. A few beats later he’s abruptly straightening his spine, “Gods, Fuyumi. You’re almost thirty five!”

Fuyumi glares from behind her glasses. She reaches across the kotatsu and swats lightly at his bicep, “Do you have to say it like that? You’re thirty one!”

“Please. Stop arguing,” Shouto says. He pets the unperturbed cat curled up on his thighs, “You might startle Nori”.

“Shouto. She’s deaf”.

Rei cuts their bickering short as she breathes, “When did you all get so big…” a serene smile hung on her lips, not a hint of grief to be seen. The answers surrounding your identity—or lack thereof—are lost to the nostalgia cloying in his throat.

They return to enjoying tea and dango after that. Shouto sets his phone face down on the floor and turns off vibrate. For now, he wants to ward off further interrogation.

His mother intuits this and steers the conversation in another direction, “Natsuo, how have things been at your new job? Are they treating you well?”

Things are good. Fuyumi’s class would soon be graduating, an award for Best Teacher polished and positioned on her desk. Natsuo had landed the job he always wanted—a medical welfare officer working closely with trauma survivors—and was already making waves. His mother, Rei, finally finished cultivating her traditional garden, weaving tales of lush foliage and water spouts. Touya too has been improving in his rehabilitation programme, according to his psychiatrist’s reports.

A tremor quakes through the tendons in Shouto’s forearm as he lifts his tea to sip the remaining dregs. Yaoyorozu outdid herself this time. If he hadn’t already known the price he would have discerned it from the refreshing, uniquely sweet taste. Thoughts of you cross his mind in these instances without warning. Would you like it? What’s your favourite tea?

Shouto scrunches his eyes shut as if it might wash those thoughts away. How is it that the stranger in his pocket possesses the ability to awaken such yearning in him; he feels mildly ashamed to have realised his loneliness with an audience.

The hour rolls into another. Shouto scrapes the last dango along the skewer with his teeth, jutting his chin to evade Nori’s curious sniffing. “This was lovely, Shouto. Thank you for having us over,” Fuyumi expressed as she carefully ran her hand along the feline's back.

Sensing the finality, Shouto motions to stand and sets Nori on the couch. Everyone protests it. He huffs, sliding a crutch over from where they lay nearby and letting it take his weight. A good decision, he thinks, inwardly grimacing as the blood rushes to his feet, prickling like violent white noise under his skin, and his knee almost gives out.

“I’m okay. The doctor told me I should be trying to move around more anyway,” he tells them, deigning to mention that he expended most of his energy tidying up this morning before their visit. “You’re my guests. I want to walk you to the door”.

Shouto tries not to bristle under their wary scrutiny. A cool hand slips around his arm then. His mother’s natural chill seeps through the sleeve of his shirt and allays the irritation. “We appreciate it, sweetheart,” she says.

“We do,” Fuyumi gently insists. “We’re happy to see you recovering well. Right, Natsu—?”

“Kiss tax!” Natsuo exclaims, oblivious to his surroundings. He scoops Nori up from the arm of the couch. She is comically tiny pressed against his chest. A continuous indignant drone rumbles in her throat as his brother peppers firm kisses to the top of her head.

“Put my baby down,” Shouto deadpanned.

“She isn’t your baby,” Natsuo slides one hand under Nori, the other carefully tucked into her armpits. He holds her close to Shouto’s face. Dramatic round eyes stare back; a flat expression emphasised by prominent cheekbones. Barely a hair's breadth between them, Nori begins to swipe her rough tongue against his scarred cheek. “See? You’re her baby”.

“Mine, too,” Rei rises to her tiptoes and scratches behind Nori’s ear, turning a smile toward Shouto. That same hand moved to cup his cheek. Though far taller than his mother, Shouto tips his head and finds himself feeling incredibly small as she presses a kiss to his forehead. “Your hair is getting long again,” she adds as she pulls away.

“I can trim it if it’s bothering you,” Fuyumi nods, sidling up beside Rei to survey the growth together. She brushes back the wayward strands framing his face and Shouto blinks. “Though, I think I like this look on you. What’s it called? A wolfcut?”

“I’m not sure. This is how Mina cut it a few months ago,” he replies.

Natsuo interjects without Nori in his grasp, now notably covered in short cat hair. He claps Shouto on the back and pulls him into a firm side hug, “She did good. Our handsome little Shouto”.

Initiating physical affection with his family was still a weary affair after all this time, though patently one sided. Having them touch him so freely always left him a little stupefied.

After they depart, Shouto hobbles to find his phone with all the grace of a newborn fawn. It is face down under the kotatsu cover right where he left it. And as it blinks to life, he skips the notifications from the 1A group chat to find your screen name at the bottom.

InsertNameHere ▻ My boss has these awful little nicknames for everyone in the agency. Mine’s ‘Maestro’. Nerd and butterfingers, too, but mostly Maestro. ▻ To do with my quirk and role, I suppose. Good for morale etc. His creativity astounds me (๑ಕ̴ _̆ ಕ̴) ﾝ？ ▻ Not that I don’t appreciate it but. Well shit, what about my morale? Lol ▻ You there? ▻ Sorry if I scared you off by getting personal.

Shouto worries at his bottom lip. Maestro. Something new about you. A foreign feeling churned in his chest. Faint, barely there, but new enough for him to notice. He’s not sure how to pin it; whether your mention of working at an agency bothers him or the fact that others, people who are not Shouto, get to see you everyday, close enough to give you a personal nickname.

Sooba ▻ Sounds like you have a good relationship. I’ve got a close friend who sounds similar. People say it’s just his love language ha ▻ And you didn’t scare me off. I’m the one who asked. Some family came to check on me.

He barely thinks it over before adding:

▻ My mother said hi by the way.

Your reply isn’t immediate but it is quicker than he expects.

InsertNameHere ▻ You’re right. I do like my boss sometimes. Maybe. And I love this job but I think it has aged me ten years. My ulcers have ulcers! ▻ Also—telling your family about me now too? We really are moving fast.

A soft huff of laughter jumps in his throat. There’s a distant clamoring near the kitchen. The sound of Nori’s bowl being pushed around the tile. Her absence clicks in place when he looks at the clock. He should feed her soon.

Sooba ▻ Technically it was only my mother, older sister and brother. ▻ But I can relate about the work stuff.

InsertNameHere ▻ Yeah? You mentioned being on leave because of an injury. Do you like your work?

That’s a question he has never asked himself, nor has he ever felt the need to. Heroism was the path life handed to him. The path he ultimately followed of his own volition. Shouto loves his family, his friends. He’s good at his job—enough to have made it into the top ten. And isn’t that all that matters?

Sometimes he would take a long, weary look out the revolving agency doors, recognise the heaviness in his bones and give the entire thing a second thought. But that never made any difference. Because people needed him. And he needed them too.

There’s a fleeting urge in that instance; a temptation to come clean, if only to sate his own curiosity. To compare the idealised image of what you looked like or how you sounded. He’s spent many a shameful night thinking up romanticised scenarios in his mind about what it would be like to meet you in real life. Shouto always squashes it. He doubts you’d believe him.

Ever perceptive to his moods, Nori chooses that moment to pad in from the kitchen and sit herself directly in his line of sight. She wails, demanding attention and lacking any volume control.

Right now he is not a hero but a man alone on two unsteady legs with a small living thing reliant upon him. He’s just Todoroki Shouto. He’s just—

Sooba ▻ As of right now my occupation is ‘Nori’s dad’. I like it pretty well.

Your reply is immediate.

InsertYourName ▻ Oh you have a kid?

Nori’s frustration grows. Her tail swishes back and forth, agitated. “It isn’t time to eat yet,” Shouto tells her, pulling up his phone camera and zooming in. On her next yowl the shutter goes off. The picture is perfect. Mouth wide open, large ears flat and nose wrinkled in displeasure, lips curled up to display her pink gums.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_0243] ▻ Something like that.

It’s a risk and he knows it. Though infrequently his team has posted Nori to his social media in the past at the delight of his fans—she was younger in those pictures, but if you were well acquainted with him there was the possibility of you putting the puzzle pieces together.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh my god sooba. She’s so cute. Give her everything she asks for, you monster. ▻ Hey. Are those Ingenium themed crutch pads?

Anxiety rockets through him. He pulls up the photo and sure enough, his crutches are in the corner of the frame, laid within reach beside the couch. Secured around the handles are Ingenium themed pads to cushion his palms.

Sooba ▻ They are.

InsertNameHere ▻ Is he your favourite hero?

He turns his phone over in his hands before he types, overcome by an abrupt restlessness.

Sooba ▻ One of them. ▻ Do you have a favourite hero?

Nori wanders off in his periphery and not long after he hears the telltale sound of cardboard being torn apart. You stop typing, replies coming to a halt. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

It becomes clear you’re offline. Shouto spends the evening imagining your answer—ducking sheepishly at the idea that you might say him, then cringing at his reaction—and reading through his work emails.

Partnering with Hawks hasn’t been the worst thing in the world. Despite his carefree demeanour and general lack of personal space Hawks was professional and meticulous when it came to his work. As promised, Shouto was CC’d into every important thread and forwarded every significant incident report each day. Apparently there’s a big fundraiser tonight that he is unable to attend.

Hawks suggests matching Endeavor’s donation in spirit. Shouto doubles it.

The night air barely touches him. Leaning against the balcony railing he surveys the cityscape. A kaleidoscope canvas. He stares until the pinpricks of light stretch and bend, streaking his vision, regaining shape when he blinks. Nori is curled around his calf, playfully kicking her back legs at his ankle. She’s careful to never break skin.

It’s nearing midnight when you get back to him. A disconcertingly vague reply of:

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ve had enough of heroes.

Shouto waits for you to elaborate before presuming anything nefarious. He would hate for Fuyumi to be correct. She’d never let him forget it.

▻ Shit that made me sound bad, didn’t it? I promise I’m not a villain

He snorts, reclining himself into one of the chairs on his patio. Yaoyorozu insisted upon helping decorate the space. This piece in particular had been chosen by Uraraka, if only for its cocoon, egg-like shape. She always sat in it if she came over; Shouto can’t say he blames her, now curling up inside it himself, leaving one foot flat to the floor for Nori to cling to.

Sooba ▻ Only a little bit lol.

InsertNameHere ▻ I just mean for today! I’ve had enough for today! ▻ There’s… a whole lot of them at this work event I’m attending is all. ▻ See! ▻ [IMG_0589]

It’s the first picture you’ve ever sent to him that wasn’t a meme. Your legs are crossed, turned inward to show more of the showroom floor. There are people everywhere. You’ve overturned your lanyard in your lap, straps dotted with the charity logo, to display the back of your security pass. No identification. Just proof that you’re there—

Proof that you’re a real person, giving colour to the vague, shapeless figure in his head. The figure once outlined only by random tidbits, like your favourite food, the music you like, the movies you loved as a child. The figure now clad in tight fitting, seemingly pearlescent sheer material from the waist down.

—Shouto swallows dryly.

You have nice hands. He tries not to linger on that.

▻ That’s why I disappeared, btw. Sorry about that. ▻ I feel weirdly underdressed.

The logo on your lanyard has recognition prickling in the back of his mind. Hours earlier Midoriya had texted him two pictures from the ‘HEROKIND’ fundraiser Hawks mentioned. One being a selfie of him and an aggrieved Bakugo, each wearing their own fitted suit, and another of Uraraka in an evening gown stood behind the imposing silhouette that was his father, stealthily pointing her middle finger at his back.

He saved that one to his camera roll.

Sooba ▻ In that case I will close the HPSC anonymous tip line ▻ Sometimes people try too hard at those events and forget why they’re there. You look good from what I see.

InsertNameHere ▻ How very gracious (´・｀ ) ▻ Sounds like you have some experience with this kind of thing. My condolences lmao ▻ But thank you. I’m glad you think so.

Shouto entertains the idea of sending you something back. His eyes surreptitiously flicker around as though being watched. Nothing revealing who he is, but enough to maybe—

The camera captures a few of the modest flower beds and cat grass lining his balcony, Nori coiled around his bare ankle. He looks at his hand. Shuffles his hips further down to mirror your angle and flexes his fingers in his lap. Heat floods his body, guided by the shameless desire to inform the image you might have of him in your own head, too.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_288] ▻ At least you’re having more fun than I am.

You type for a long ten second interval. Then restart. A tedious minute elapses and just as regret creeps in, your messages come through.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’m not so sure about that. ▻ Actually it would probably be more bearable if you were here with me.

The sound of his heartbeat floods his ears. So warm it’s like he’s standing under the sun. Shouto belatedly realises it’s just his quirk, as the steam blows out through his nose. Nori butts his ankle in complaint. He bends to take her into his arms, feeling ridiculous and somewhat bad at being a person.

Sooba ▻ Think so? ▻ Just so you know I have been called socially inept on numerous occasions.

InsertNameHere ▻ Then we can hide together in the corner, get tipsy and sneak bits of the fancy spread.

This—doesn’t happen to Shouto. “Nori. I have feelings for a person I’ve never seen,” he pushes his face into Nori’s fur, and she purrs, feeling the vibrations of his voice. Admitting it aloud only highlights the absurdity. He feels out of his depth. And he decides he’s glad for the anonymity. Grateful, even. Lest he publicly humiliate himself and set off every fire alarm in the vicinity.

Sooba ▻ That sounds perfect.

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ll hold you to that. There’s another one of these coming up in two weeks. ▻ Prepare yourself (ꈍᴗꈍ)

“You’re really not helping,” he continues. Nori rubs insistently under his chin. “Fine, fine. I get it,” She croaks as he presses into the touch, mimicking her movement and cradling her as he gets up.

Before retiring to bed he pulls up Yaoyorozu’s contact. He settles into a comfortable position in the covers, propping his phone on his stomach, and he types:

Shouto : 00:14

I think I need help.

Consciousness eases into him slowly. It’s a sleepy pastel morning. Dust dances in the soft spotlight cast through his curtains. Shouto’s jaw unhinged to release a long yawn, limbs stretching every which way under the covers as his joints click.

Shouto props up on his elbow, twisting in place to reach and unplug his phone. He blinks away the blurriness hemming his vision and squints at the stack of messages from Enigmail right at the top of his notifications.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh shit. Hero Shouto donated double the amount of what Endeavor gave and he couldn’t even be here tonight. That’s hilarious. Can that guy get any hotter ▻ I didn’t intend for that to be a pun. ▻ These cocktails are becoming suspiciously easy to drink. ▻ You’re probably sleeping like a good boy but I miss you. Wake up! ▻ Have you ever had feelings for someone you’ve never met

The loose tongued messages stop there, at around one o’clock in the morning. Then there’s a seven hour jump to only ten minutes ago.

▻ Oh my god. Please ignore all of that. And then kill me.

Hardly awake, sleepsand still crusty at the corners of his eyes, Shouto’s mind reels as he considers pinching himself. He doesn’t know which part to focus on. Your apparent—and unknowing—attraction to him as a public figure or the implication that you had feelings for Sooba.

But you’re obviously embarrassed. So he bites back a smile and starts with something simple.

Sooba ▻ Good morning to you too ▻ Remember to drink water and take some bufarin.

Sitting upright with legs hung over the bed, Shouto clicks out to his text app by way of distraction. There’s another photo from Midoriya. This time it’s just him. Speckled light glitters along his cheeks, expression beaming as the hero holds a piece of sashimi in front of his pink face. Shouto heart reacts to the text.

InsertNameHere ▻ Send more Nori

He chuckles, sleepy. That makes known Nori’s absence. Strange, he muses. She is usually the one to wake him. Rather than search he scrolls through his albums to find a photo you hadn’t seen yet. It was taken a few months ago. He’d slipped his camera under her chin and pressed the shutter when she looked down, looming over the viewer with a dumbfounded look.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_142]

After a few minutes with no response, assuming that you had accepted his bribe and sought out some painkillers, Shouto braced against his bedside table and stood, phone in hand. Every muscle in his body felt like wet sand, held together by too tight skin. This morning, though, the incessant ache that beat alongside his heart was gone.

Walking still felt as though he was wading through molasses but strength was steadily returning to his physique.

The floor is cool under the soles of his feet as they shuffle down the hallway. There’s a noise in the kitchen that gives Shouto pause. A voice, hushed yet high pitched voice, cooing like someone might to an infant.

He drops into an ungainly defensive stance, pyjama bottoms and all. Worst case scenario they at least hang low on his hips, loose around his legs, leaving room for flexible movement. He rounds the corner without a sound.

And relief beats like a drum in his chest.

Yaoyorozu meets his gaze from the kitchen island where one hand is petting a very happy Nori, sipping from a glass of water with the other. Her face is bare, shadows soft under her eyes, hair pulled haphazardly into a low ponytail as if she had just rolled out of bed and rushed here. Creati in a bleach stained hoodie and leggings. The press would have a field day.

The sight brings a small smile to his face. Their schedules have been misaligned for months. It’s good to see her—if only her expression had not then darkened. “Todoroki Shouto,” she says with all the authority of an older sibling, “What on earth was that text last night? You had me worried sick”.

“Text?” he parrots dumbly, looking to check his phone.

InsertNameHere ▻ Painkillers acquired. Thank you Nori ▻ I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night.

“I let myself in with the key you gave me. I hope that was alright,” she continues, quiet and apologetic now. He skims over your reply and switches to check his text app. Sure enough the last thing he sent to her was an ambiguous plea for help.

“Of course it’s alright,” he replies, regarding her with a meaningful look to cover for how sheepish he truly feels. “I gave you the key because you’re always welcome here”.

Yaoyorozu smiles on the end of an exhale, idle hands smoothing down Nori’s cheeks. “Of course,” she echoes, examining his form closely now her anxiety is assuaged. Over him comes the muted awareness that he’s being judged. “How about we go on a short walk for once, since I’m here? The weather is quite pleasant”.

Shouto steps forward with mouth downturned, “Momo, I assure you I’m fine. You don’t need to walk me like a dog,” he says, wincing thereafter at his bluntness. She only hums.

“When was the last time you went anywhere?”

Very uselessly he replies, “I go places”.

Yaoyorozu’s potential to lead and assert had never escaped him, not even in his teenage years, and it was something he staunchly admired her for. But never has he resented his own affinity for compliance more than he does the moment she ignores his pouting and tells him to finish his morning gait training and get changed.

Dressed casually and statuesque in the centre of his living room, left leg lifted to mimic a flamingo, Shouto’s limbs shake far less than previous days. He can hold his phone while he balances now, too. You haven’t sent any new messages. Probably waiting for him to assure you that he isn’t upset, but even so he’s a smidge disappointed.

Sooba ▻ I’m here. A friend appeared in my kitchen. ▻ You don’t need to apologise for anything, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I've received worse drunk texts I assure you.

He switches to his right leg and chews the inside of his cheek. Facing villainy was far less daunting than navigating his feelings.

▻ I thought it was cute.

That’s about as brave as he felt today.

Yaoyorozu resurfaces from the coat closet with a jacket in hand and a pep in her step. There’s something else coiled around her wrist. Nori’s cat leash, red and attached to a blue harness, matching Shouto’s hero colours.

“Can we bring her along?” she asks, bouncing in place. Upon recognising the leash Nori makes her opinion known, releasing a drawn out yowl. “Oh please, Shouto”.

Nori didn’t regularly enjoy walking but she had been trained to do so from a young age. She was peculiar and picky, and Shouto trusted her to let him know if ever she wanted anything—something she never failed to do.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, bending to tap her nose. It wrinkles, a stray tooth flashing between her lips. “If you get tired I won’t carry you”.

Nori blinks. A lie and they both know it.

Shouto sighs, defeated. “Okay. She hasn’t wanted to in a while so I can’t really deny her”.

“Wonderful,” Yaoyorozu breathes, handing him his jacket before undoing the harness and crouching to slip Nori’s paws through one by one. “We can grab a warm drink to go from the cafe downstairs and talk”.

Shucking the jacket on and flattening the collar, Shouto dithers in the genkan with his crutches nearby. He tucks the wayward strands of hair into a knitted hat and loops his mask around his ears. The scar couldn’t be helped but atleast this way a majority of people would not think to look twice.

They leave the apartment together, all three. In the short time it takes to step out of the building's lobby you still haven’t replied. He shoves his free hand in his pocket, fingers clasped around his phone in case it vibrates.

The establishment across from Shouto’s home has been open for longer than he’s been alive. An elderly couple named Pierre-Louis and Tsutomu run the place. The two men moved back to Japan decades ago to care for Tsutomu’s sick mother, and with Pierre-Louis’ incredibly unusual coffee quirk ‘Bean Boost’, opening a cafe seemed the right route to take.

Since moving here they’ve endeared themselves to Shouto. If they see him on his way to work Tsutomu will often rush to offer him a takeout cup. This morning is no different.

“Mon petit chou!”

Tsutomu slides open the walk up window and calls his name, beckoning them closer. The breeze tousles the short grey curls around his ears. Shouto’s heart near stops when the older man leans out to greet Nori as she stretches upward and almost loses balance. “Tsutomu-san, please be careful,” he says.

“I am still rather spry, young man. Don’t worry about me,” he returns happily, gaze moving to Yaoyorozu when he rights himself. “Lovely to see you again, Momo-chan. Have you come to rescue our prince from his cave?”

Indignant, Shouto grumbles, “I wish you would all stop acting as though I’m a hermit. I haven’t been stuck indoors that long”.

The two level him with a look of doubt. Tsutomu gently pinches his cheek and rubs a thumb over the swell above the mask. “Your pallor betrays you, Shouto. Let the sun kiss you more, no? We worry”.

“Tout va bien?” another voice interjects. Pierre-Louis squeezes up next to his husband, ignoring his disgruntled noise, and brightens when he sees Shouto on the other side. “Mon chou, you’ve emerged! And with two beautiful girls at your side”.

Yaoyorozu muffled a laugh while Nori busied herself chewing on the nearby grass, leash never pulling too far. “Pierre-Louis,” Shouto murmurs, unable to keep the fond lilt out of his voice. “It’s good to see you both”.

“And you,” he beams. The wrinkles by his eyes deepen. Shouto never met his grandparents but he thinks perhaps this is the closest he’ll get. “Are you going anywhere special?”

“We’re just taking a walk, Pierre-Louis. I thought it might be nice to get a warm drink for the journey,” Yaoyorozu spoke warmly and nudged his side. “Where better than here?”

“Bien sûr! Will that be one earl grey and one green tea?”

Shouto nods at her questioning glance, “Loose leaves today, please”, he adds.

Pierre-Louis disappears to make their drinks, shortly returning with two takeout cups, steam pluming softly from the mouth. Shouto swaps his crutch to his right side and accepts the green tea with his left hand, heat seeping through the cardboard sleeve.

“How much will it be—?”

“Nonsense,” Tsutomu interrupts with a sudden switch to English. He shakes his finger, silencing any protest, and his husband gives a resolute nod in support. “Take it, mon chou. Call it a family discount”.

Shouto bids them a dazed goodbye, leaving the walk up window; a lump in his throat that he tries to wash down with hot heat, tongue impervious to the temperature. “They’re very sweet. I’m glad you have them,” Yaoyorozu muses. “What is it they call you? ‘Chou’?”

“Mon petit chou,” he repeats clumsily, accent slightly gawky. “I asked Aoyama a while ago and he told me it means ‘my little cabbage’”.

Yaoyorozu pauses and Nori continues ahead, leaping up onto a nearby half wall with her tail hooked high. She pounces on a crack between the bricks, blissfully unaware of the nearby traffic, trying to eat a ladybug.

“My little cabbage?”

Shouto hums, squinting up at the early sun, rising in a blanket of pale blue and mottled grey clouds. The air is refreshingly cool. “Apparently it’s something French parents call their children,” he shrugs, as though he were not then warmed from the inside out at the reminder that they truly did see him as one of their own.

“That’s lovely,” she says, slowing to match his pace. He’s not tired so much as he is enjoying the morning dew. They follow a familiar path. Turning down a hidden narrow walkway that leads to a neighbourhood park. Nori’s chitters fill the spaces left by comfortable silence.

Yaoyorozu suggests sitting at one of the picnic tables. Tall trees flanked the area on either side, columns rising to create a weave of foliage that shrouded them in gold. The old wood is cold under his thighs. Nori hops up onto the bench, ears flat to her head, and hisses at a dog across the way which hasn’t even noticed her presence.

“So,” Shouto glances over toward Yaoyorozu as she speaks. Her arms are settled on the tabletop, fingers curled around the disposable cup and swirling the liquid inside. “Are you going to tell me what you were panicking about last night?”

He picks at the cardboard sleeve, twisting it, and supposes this was inevitable. Slipping down his mask, Shouto brings the tea to his lips in distraction, grasping for a way to articulate his situation without simply saying: “I have feelings for my anonymous online friend”.

In the end he realises there really isn’t any other way.

Yaoyorozu listens intently, as he expected she would. Of all his well intentioned friends Shouto knew she’d be the most open to his reasoning. Her expression visibly softens while he wrings his hands and rambles about the palpable connection that he first attributed to his own loneliness—

Rambles about you; you, the one now carried with him everywhere, the presence weaving his days into tapestry; you, accepting of his random thoughts, giving of your own; you, unintentional charm and bad jokes and sharp wit; you, faceless and voiceless, the one to receive first and last thought.

He expels his fears. Concerns of who you really are. Of what you might think upon learning his identity—if you wouldn’t like him anymore, or if his own feelings might change after meeting you offline, and if that makes him a terrible, shallow person.

Then he mentions the photo from the Herokind event and her head cocks in interest. “May I see?” she asks. Shouto murmurs his agreement and pulls his phone out from his pocket.

You’ve messaged him.

InsertNameHere ▻ Appeared? Like, teleported?? ▻ I’m glad we’re ok. I would miss you otherwise. ▻ But you can’t know I’m cute. You’ve never seen me lol

Shouto is typing back with unfounded confidence before he realises it.

Sooba ▻ I don’t need to see you to know that.

Then his eyes flicker to Nori, staring up at him clad in her Shouto themed harness, lip caught on her scraggle tooth. He takes a quick picture. Examining it before sending, he notices Yaoyorozu’s slender hands in the background, and wonders if you might be jealous.

He scoffs inwardly at his own childishness and sends the photo.

▻ Not teleported hah, just came in with a spare key. We are out walking now.

“Sorry—I just wanted to reply first,” Shouto clears his throat and presses his phone into her now proffered hand. Given without question.

Something flickers in her expression at your photo; it’s a brief shift that flies over her gaze like a shadow. Her thumbs pinch and part on the screen as she zooms in. “I was there for a few hours last night,” she says. “I recognise this outfit. Would it not be easier to check the list of attendants?”

“…That doesn’t feel fair,” he admits soberly. “I know that’s silly”.

“It’s not silly,” she affirms with a small smile, fingers now moving as she types. “You are aware of your position. You have the resources to find them and presumably they do not. Of course it seems unfair”.

It’s testament to their friendship that he feels no need to check what she’s doing. Her brows furrow slightly, then arch into her hairline, eyes brightening. Pleased, Yaoyorozu locks the device and hands it back.

“What did you do?”

“Don’t worry. I didn't do anything untoward,” she replies. “But I do know who you’re talking to now”.

Shouto’s fingers flex around his phone. “You do?” he breathes, incredulous. Just like that?

Yaoyorozu nods, lending her attention to Nori. “I don’t have a name. But if you want to find them I think you’ll want to speak to Bakugo-kun”.

“Bakugo…?” Shouto echoes.

“I believe your friend may work for him,” she clarifies. Ah. The clamouring in his head comes to a halt. In hindsight it’s clear. Your nicknames make sense now.

“I’ll think about it,” he swallows, bringing his tea to his face for another sip. He finds it tepid and warms it again with his quirk. Yaoyorozu doesn’t push.

They spend the hour catching up on the things Shouto has missed in the weeks he’s been absent, and the weeks prior. Midoriya’s claims of him being a workaholic become a reality he can’t outrun. Tea finished, Shouto takes both cups and disposes of them in the recycling bin. Yaoyorozu stands from the picnic table with Nori cradled to her breast—Nori stares back at him, smug—and they make their way back to his apartment.

“Shouto,” she coaxed, now standing outside the tall glass doors leading to the lobby. Nori’s claws sink into the collar of his jacket as she’s passed to him. He takes her leash from Yaoyorozu, bunching it up; and she covers his enclosed fist with her hand.

“Go for it,” she tells him, giving a firm squeeze. “I’m rooting for you. Just be safe”.

Stepping back into his apartment, his cheeks are warm and his limbs are trembling. You’ve buzzed inside his pocket three times.

InsertNameHere ▻ Oh my god. How can such a perfect creature exist? And her harness! Shouto colours? ▻ I hope you’re having fun. <3 ▻ You know, you never answered my question from last night

“You don’t think I’m hopeless, do you Nori?” Shouto asks the thin air—Nori has already scrambled toward the nearby shoebox, bunny kicking at the corner as she chews. He sighs.

Yaoyorozu’s encouragement rings loud in his ears while he replies.

Sooba ▻ Yes. I think I’ve had feelings for a person I’ve never met.

And it feels like a confession.

Shouto sees the week come to an end before he finds enough strength, physically and mentally, to visit Bakugo’s agency.

Your conversations have evolved. They carry a flirty undertone now, the verbal toeing of the line that makes his heart pitter patter. You send pictures throughout the day. Always angled away from your face. Swathes of skin. A pen between your fingers. Stacked paperwork and an empty coffee cup. The burgeoning skies on your walk home. Comfortable at home, your legs crossed over the other, a fluffy slipper hanging at the end of your foot.

He never knew so much thought had to go into making a photo appear candid, effortless. At one point he purposefully shuffled his workout shorts lower on his hips and spent the remainder of the afternoon mortified with his head deep between the couch cushions.

Liking another person is humiliating. He feels exposed, like a flesh wound that you won’t stop prodding.

InsertNameHere ▻ [IMG_412] ▻ I hope you have a good day!

You’re sitting at your desk, presumably. A slide knot bracelet hangs loose around your wrist. Hand held out over the mouse and keyboard, you’ve pinched your thumb and finger—smudged with black in—together to make a heart shape. It’s cute. You’re cute. He files the pose away for any later run-ins with paparazzi. His PR has been getting on about trying harder when they photograph him for months.

Shouto’s body rocks with the train car as it careens down the tracks and readjusts his grip on his crutch. He smiles behind his mask, sinking into the confines of his hood which he has pulled over his cap. There are eyes on him today. It can’t be helped in such close quarters. But they’re uncertain—too afraid to bother him and be wrong about his identity.

Sooba ▻ You too :) ▻ Remember to take breaks. I read that you should spend five minutes away from your screen every hour.

InsertNameHere ▻ You have to stop making me smile at work. My coworkers think I have a secret husband or something.

Sooba ▻ I promise to send you off with a homemade bento tomorrow morning.

InsertNameHere ▻ And a kiss.

Shouto grabs the nearby pole as he is almost knocked on his feet. Passengers board, others depart, and his heart hammers in his throat like a fist.

Sooba ▻ A kiss?

You’re still typing a reply when Shouto hears the hesitant evocation of his name. It’s timid and hushed, belonging to a person trying to restrain their excitement. She covers her mouth with a gasp when he meets her eyes.

“It is you,” she bubbles. A metallic taste pervades the static air around her, short hair wiggling on end as if it were responding directly to her excitement; behaviour unbefitting of a typical reporter, he notes.

Your text box jumps onto the screen in his peripheral vision, bumping up the chat. He jolts and angles the phone away from her just to be safe.

InsertNameHere ▻ Yeah! A bento box and a kiss to get me through the day, obviously. As my husband.

There are three others a few feet away, huddled together beside a pillar and abuzz with energy. Mild dread churns in his stomach. Definitely not a reporter, then. “If you have a moment…” the young woman spares a glance over her shoulder and her friends excitedly encourage her forward. “Um. Would you maybe be interested in—”

“No,” Shouto replies. The young woman winces at his tone. Ah. She’s embarrassed now. He really should make a habit of lying in consideration for other people's feelings. Fuyumi did mention that, though not in as many words. Before her face can crumple further he continues, “I’m very sorry, that was rude of me. I’m in a bit of a hurry”.

Her relief is palpable, near contagious. Expression softened with understanding she folds her hands against her stomach and ducks into a slight bow. “Of course, I understand,” she says. Somehow it makes him feel worse. “And—I’m glad you’re well, Shouto-san. We’re all wishing you a complete recovery”.

Gratitude bubbles inside him. He smiles, pressing a finger over his mask, and her complexion turns a bright shade of pink. She nods in understanding, scurrying to her friends.

Shouto departs the train without disruption. The conductor takes stock of his gait and the crutch at his side, offering to lay out the ramp, but he politely refuses, stepping onto the platform with ease. He feels good; closer to his other self, the one before his muscles were run through a metaphorical centrifuge.

Sooba ▻ Obviously. ▻ I suppose I can add ‘house husband’ alongside ‘Nori’s dad’ on my list of occupations now.

Blast Zone isn’t far, a fact for which he’s grateful. Bakugo insisted on rooting himself in the centre of the city, right in the spot where all transport routes seemed to meet; there stood the symbol of victory’s headquarters, imposing in the skyline.

According to journalists at PowrStruct magazine The Blast Zone agency is an ode to modern architecture. A steel frame structure surrounded by reinforced concrete, an outer coating embossed with a texture that gives the award winning building the fragile appearance of having been meticulously glued back together while simultaneously being both blast proof and earthquake proof. Shouto cares not for design in general. He does, however, steal a mini Dynamite themed pen from the front desk while he’s waiting to be signed in.

There’s a thin chain attached to the cap with a Chibi Bakugo hung on the end. Sue him.

“He’ll see you now, Shouto-san,” the receptionist states, pupil-less eyes blinking back at him. Shouto tucks the pen into his sleeve, feeling foolish and somewhat nervous. “Head on up to the office on the twelfth floor. He knows you’re on your way”.

Shouto clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says, weakness in his knees that has nothing to do with his nerves. The Ingenium handle pads cushion his palm as he braces onto his crutches, supporting him toward the nearby lift. There are eyes on his back as he goes. They’re heavy, lingering like physical touch. Something in him spoils at the unnecessary pity.

The lift remains mercifully empty. He presses the twelfth floor button and it glows green. The ride up is smooth, and quick. Double doors slide open onto a sprawling office space flooded with natural light. No one bothered to glance in Shouto’s direction as he gawked. If he remembered correctly this area was specifically for employees that worked closest to Bakugo. They’re all so nonplussed and focused. No nonsense. He likes that.

“Loser,” Bakugo grunts. He appeared from thin air, standing aside with arms crossed over his chest, eyeing Shouto’s stiff form with suspicion. “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re still on leave”.

Shouto makes a noncommittal noise, inwardly miffed. He straightens his posture and takes more of his own weight. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. Maybe I missed you,” he says. Bakugo’s expression suddenly soured, as though he swallowed a lemon, mouth thin against his teeth.

Amusing as it is, acknowledging the disconnect aloud makes him truly accept the distance he had put between himself and his friends; how he’d worked too hard, untied himself from the tangle of their lives and ended up isolated.

“Nori told me to say ‘hi’ by the way”.

Bakugo sweetens. “She like that cardboard house I sent you?”

“She already destroyed it,” Shouto admits. And Bakugo laughs, irritation split by a crooked grin.

“Atta girl,” he nods in approval, turning on his heel and starting toward a pair of towering doors. “Oi. You comin’? Or are you going to stand there all damn day?

Dynamite’s office is anything but corporate. Professional, yes, but it’s also so plainly personal in a way that screams Bakugo. A setup reconfigurable for days that he can’t sit still, a folding treadmill under his large mahogany desk to keep him moving. Bakugo works better on his feet, something Shouto knows well.

Built in shelves line the accent wall, filled with framed pictures of friends and family, newspaper clippings and awards. There are even fan creations—mostly from his debut era, when being favoured felt far more significant, but Shouto finds it sweet all the same.

Walking ahead of him, Shouto approaches the desk. Bakugo lingers for a beat to holler something out the door before returning to his desk.

Two consult chairs face the head office chair opposite. Lowering into one of them, Shouto props his crutch up and takes his phone out of his pocket. Ever hopeful, he unlocks it, opens Enigmail and refreshes the chat list. There are new messages from a few other people he added in the beginning, but nothing from you. He tries not to sigh too obviously.

“What’s got you all fuckin’ mopey?" Bakugo leaned over to look down at the phone. Shouto hastily locked it and the explosive hero narrowed his eyes at the impassive veil Shouto pulled over his face.

“Nothing. How did the first Herokind event go?” he asks, fiddling with his newly acquired Dynamite pen. “Midoriya always sugar coats things for me”.

“Went fine. You didn’t miss anything,” Bakugo waves off. The leather office chair creaks as he leans back. “Boring as all hell since it was just the kickstarter. Food mild enough for a toddler to eat and too much alcohol. The auction will be more interesting. That birdbrain partner of yours was hilarious, though”.

“Hawks?” Shouto’s mouth twitches, failing to conceal his mirth. “What did he do this time?”

“Spent the night antagonising your shitty old man,” Bakugo pauses for a brief moment and rescinds his words. “Or aggressively flirting. Can't tell the difference with him”.

Shouto keeps his thoughts to himself on that one.

“Ended with Endeavor triggering all the sprinklers at the after party though,” Bakugo ends, eyes crinkled under the weight of his wicked grin. Shouto pursed his lips tight. Amusement huffed through his nose. He imagines his father standing in the middle of the room, pathetically soaked through, wisps of smoke rising from his put-out embers, and he laughs.

Bakugo looks rather pleased by the reaction. But then his gaze flickers over Shouto’s shoulder and his brow arches expectantly. “Did’ya need something? I shouted for the Egghead because I thought you were on your break”.

Shouto’s laughter dwindles as he follows Bakugo’s line of sight. His breath catches. An employee stands in the doorway peeking around a tall box of paperwork. Wide eyed as they examine him.

Wrapped around their wrist is a familiar sliding knot bracelet.

“I just—uh…”

His head spins. There’s a smudge on your finger where your pen's ink leaked, just like in the photo. Could this be you? You are—

“What the hell has gotten into everybody today,” Bakugo tuts, pushing up from his desk and striding over to receive the box himself. Your shoulders slump when you are relieved of the weight. Bringing your hands to your chest and massaging the joints.

—still looking right at him. Cute. He cannot help but think how cute you are, tripping over your words, losing your footing.

“Oi, maestro,” Bakugo clicks his fingers in your face and startles you out of your stupor. “Get it together. I need you with a clear head when that sleepy bastard from the HPSC gets here”.

You glare at Bakugo, “Mera-san is the least of your problems, Dynamite. Worry about yourself and the six unanswered emails I forwarded to you from the claims manager”.

You’re beautiful. And your voice, it’s so—his lips part, and he tries to speak, to interrupt Bakugo’s incessant teasing, but words fail him.

“Whatever. Those insurance claims are bullshit and you know it,” Bakugo mutters. He turns and moves to shove the box of paperwork beside the desk. His mouth downturns into a smirk when he stands and notices your attention drawn to Shouto once again.

“Is that everything? I’d appreciate it if you stopped gawking,” Bakugo drawls, a dry rasp to his taunting that seems to embarrass you further. Shouto isn’t sure he’s breathing. You’re right there. You’re within reach and he’s rooted to his chair.

“You’re such a—! Y’know what, no, I’m leaving now,” replying harshly you start toward the open door where you come to an abrupt halt. Shouto feels the distance like the pull of a leash. You incline your head into a short bow, losing strength in your voice as you acknowledge him, “Have a good afternoon, Shouto-san”.

Then you’re gone. He stares after you dumbly. In all the years he has worked in the hero industry Shouto has never been more thankful for choosing to make his given name his brand than he is now.

Bakugou falls heavily in his chair and sighs.

Shouto swallows, “Who was—”

“Don’t,” Bakugo stresses the command, as though telling a dog to heel. Shouto can feel the heat behind his pointed glare. Undeterred, his eyes linger after you, stuck on the spot where you once stood, heart beating like a hummingbird’s wing.

“I mean it, Halfie. Run off the only competent PA I’ve ever had with your pisspoor flirting and I will kill you,” Bakugo barrels on. There’s no true malice but it comes through gritted teeth, like he has resigned himself to the impending stupidity. Because Shouto is already looking back at him with that small, impish curl to his lips.

“I’m not that terrible at flirting,” he says.

“Making eye contact for three uninterrupted minutes is not flirting,” Bakugo scoffs.

Shouto hums. “And what is? Pulling their pigtails for ten years?”

“Watch it,” Bakugo grouses, bottom lip jutting. He kicks the leg of Shouto’s chair and he laughs; he’s missed this.

Hoping to get back on track then, Shouto asks, “Will you be attending the charity auction, then?”

The other man grunts an affirmative. “I’ve put some memorabilia and shit up to be sold. Sparky somehow convinced Eijirou to auction himself off for a date,” Bakugo snorts and gives an amused shake of his head. “I’m willing to bet he’ll rake in at least ten million yen. Minimum”.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Shouto agrees. Kirishima had grown a lot since graduation all those years ago. Pair a stocky build with a big hearted guy like him and everyone is tripping over themselves to get a piece. “Is he nervous that he won’t make much?”

Bakugo clicks his teeth, interlocking his hands across his midsection and getting comfortable. “He really hasn’t got a fucking clue. The HPSC schmuck I’ve got to talk to today has already suggested extra security in case certain high profile guests get resentful,” he says. Crimson peeks through narrowed eyes, considering, calculating. “Are you gonna go? You’re looking steady enough”.

The last Bakugo had seen of him was directly after the incident—crumpled into the fetal postion and involuntarily spasming with six second intervals. Unable to speak, to walk, to turn his head. Worst case scenario presented on scene was that he could lose the ability to function at all, and Shouto had been thrown into a pit of depression so oppressive that he withdrew from himself all together.

There’s an underlying relief in Bakugo’s question that comforts him in ways he wasn't aware he’d been seeking. Pleased, Shouto drags his crutch between his thighs and twists at the padding around the handle. “I’ll be in attendance. I plan on bidding on a few things. David Shield’s original design sketches maybe,” he admits. “…Will ‘maestro’ be there?”

Bakugo seems to parse the response carefully, as if it cracked open a hole into Shouto’s psyche. “Izuku is shooting for those, you know. I’m the one that’s gotta deal with him cryin’ if he loses”.

“I know,” Shouto’s mouth splits in a wry, intentional smile. “If I’m not outbid then I’m happy to give him whatever I win”.

“Shill bidding? Ha. Izuku never believes me when I tell him you’re secretly a dick,” Bakugo smirks. A thought visibly crosses his mind. He props his elbow on the arm of his chair, chin resting in his palm and considering Shouto closely. “…My PA will be there for the auction. Working. So if you show me up—”

“I won’t,” Shouto interjects.

“—I will see you to the pearly gates myself,” Bakugo continues, unperturbed. There’s no true malice to his tone, moreso fond resignation, and Shouto’s chest bubbles with affection for his hard headed friend.

“That’s nice of you,” he says sincerely.

“Get fucked. You want an update on the cases we opened this week or did you seriously come here just to annoy me?”

“To annoy you, mostly,” Shouto ducks away from the hand that swiped at him. “Hawks forwarded me the arrest report. Tremor ended up going for a plea deal?”

“Yeah. Sold out the extras that helped him gather the hostages,” a forceful click of the keyboard; Bakugo slaps the spacebar to wake his monitor and makes clear his disapproval. “They went too fuckin’ easy on him,” he sneers. “Deserved a longer sentence”.

“As long as they’re off the streets,” Shouto muses. He isn’t one to hold a grudge against villains who’ve harmed him, but he can understand his friends' frustration. Had it been Bakugo or Midoriya, Shouto too wouldn’t be so quick to accept this outcome.

The gentle light flooding through the office windows recedes a fraction as a dense cloud covers the sun. His visit to the Blast Zone is but a blip of time, cut short by the foreboding ring from Bakugo’s emergency pager. He’s up and moving immediately, routine woven into him like muscle memory, and Shouto can’t help feeling jealous.

Under the door to his office, Bakugo clears his throat. He cocks his head toward the impending rain, “You need me to have someone drive you home?” And appears to regret it right away as Shouto smiles up at him, touched by the suggestion.

“No, thanks but I’ll be fine,” he waves off. Bakugo departs with a grunt, demanding he take an umbrella from the receptionist, because who doesn’t check the weather before they leave the house. The thud of his work boots reverberate off the walls as he disappears around a sharp corner, and Shouto shifts in the residual silence.

He takes out his phone as he pushes upright on his crutch; a habit rather than necessity. You haven’t messaged him since before your paths crossed—though you wouldn’t know that. He sighs. A niggling guilt has burrowed into his chest but it remains largely outweighed by his impatience.

Employees greet him on his short journey to the lift he arrived in. Bowing their heads, evoking his name with appreciation and awe while he’s scanning the space for signs of you. It’s a fruitless affair. Coming up short he steps inside, frown etched into his brow, and presses the ground floor button.

The speaker alerts him that the doors are about to close. He turns on his heel, leaning a hand on the support bar. Looking up from his shoes his eyes fall on your figure. You’ve stepped out from one of the closed off rooms, thumb tapping away at the phone in your hand. Shouto swallows, watching his own with trepidation.

Sensing a heavy gaze your eyes flicker to meet him at the last second, contact through the crack right as it shuts. He can hardly think. If this were a scene in Quirky Hearts he thinks he might just cast aside his dignity and sprint up the fire escape to confront you. The mere idea has heat simmering under his skin; it makes him want to fold himself into singularity. Shouto, a top five hero, a sword without ire.

Waiting dutifully, the receptionist hands him an umbrella from behind the staff desk. He squints at her name tag, muttering “Thank you, Akiyama-san” while he tucks the umbrella under his arm, deigning to mention the murky blueish blush that floods her skin, those pupil-less eyes shimmering. Shouto pulls his mask up over his nose, breath warming his cheeks, and takes a moment to observe the street.

Throngs of people scurry along the pavements to get away from the unforgiving chill. Raindrops can become a thousand paper cuts when the wind wills it. Afternoon starters amble into the lobby with wet shoulders. In his departure nobody so much as looks his way.

Sooba ▻ Hope you didn’t forget an umbrella today. Stay warm.

His thumb stopped mid-air, right above the “send” button. Sparing a lasting glance to the upper floors, Shouto quickly presses it, pockets his phone and opens up the umbrella. Stepping into the storm white noise fills his ears, tapping harshly on the PVC canopy over him.

Shouto tugs his jacket closer to his chest. The pavements are soaked, water fed into the uprooted cracks. He threads through the moving bodies back toward the station. With the streets overcast he feels better concealed.

A train is already waiting at the platform, decorated in yellow. The colour identifies it as a slow running train, taking the local stops route rather than the rapid one. He hides in his collar and stands in the corner of the carriage, umbrella collapsed and hooked over his wrist.

Six stops later—rather than three—and Shouto is closer to home. In the time it took to reach his street the rain had thinned out, now a sparse sun shower as the clouds pushed eastward.

Nori yells accusingly the very second his key slots into the door. He turns the lock and pushes it open, holding out his foot to keep her from rushing past. “I know, I know. I’m sorry sweet girl,” he scratched her head while bent to line up his shoes. “I missed you too. Bakugo said ‘hi’”.

She mewls and circles in place on her delicate paws, flicking her tail at him. Shouto takes it as forgiveness. “I think I met someone special today,” he recites to her, “The one I told you about…”

Stopping in the middle of his warm apartment, Shouto becomes unbearably aware of how damp his clothes are. He fishes his phone and wallet out from his pockets and sets them on the kitchen island before padding toward the bathroom.

A thorough rinse and long soak later, Shouto sprawls himself across his couch, phone laid on his chest and arm hung loosely over the edge while Nori plays with his fingers. She clings to his forearm as he cups her full belly, lazily dragging her back and forth across the floor.

He’s sipping on the mouth of his water bottle, mindlessly watching as Aki-or-something begs for Saeko-or-other to take him back after going on a date with another contestant, when your messages come through on Enigmail.

InsertNameHere ▻ Guess what happened today ▻ Saw Pro Hero Shouto at work. ▻ I think he might hate me? lol

Shouto inhales sharply, choking on his mouthful of water. Tears prickle behind his eyes as his diaphragm spasms, and he tries to catch his breath, fist thudding at his chest. Oscillating between mortification and delight—it really had been you.

Sooba ▻ Why would you think he hates you?

InsertNameHere ▻ I left an awful impression. And he looked at me like this (⊙＿⊙’) the whole time.

Heat burns at his nape; embarrassment spilling over into every crevice of his body. The air around him distorts and he exhales, steam curling from his lips. Nori watches on from the floor in fascination, sparing no sympathy. Maybe Bakugo had a point.

Sooba ▻ Maybe that’s just his face.

InsertNameHere ▻ Maybe… ▻ It is a pretty face though. Prettier in person.

Shouto feels all the air deflate from his body. He sinks into the couch, head lolling against his shoulder as he turns to press a grin into the cushions, gripped by a sudden rush of endorphins. It had been you. You’re real. More importantly, you are attainable.

Now did he want to do anything about it?

Sooba ▻ You think so??

The typing dots bounce along the chat room border as you reply.

InsertNameHere ▻ I know so. I was there. Beautiful even when he is staring right through me (￣ロ￣lll)

The memory of you speaking his name echoes like a broken record. He has yet to tire of it. Though he’s lightheaded and hazy, your features are still clear in his mind. The sure fire in your eyes, your sharp tongue and your pouty lips. A slow, warm tension trickles into his gut, swooping in anticipation and breathless longing as he imagines the face you might make if he touched you.

Sooba ▻ That’s presumptuous. He was staring at you. Why wouldn’t he be

InsertNameHere ▻ I. ▻ You’re so unfair you know that ▻ If you were here I would

His breathing picks up ever so slightly.

Sooba ▻ What would you do with me

InsertNameHere ▻ Are we veering into sexting territory right now

Sooba ▻ Unintentionally.

Shouto shifts his hips. The movement pulls his sweatpants tighter around his hips and a familiar tingling rushes below his waist. When was the last time he touched himself? He brings the phone to his forehead for a moment of clarity, peering up at the screen through his eyelashes.

InsertNameHere ▻ Is this the part where we come full circle and you actually send me a dick pic

He tucks his chin, a lazy smile playing on his lips. The gentle throb in his briefs pulses throughout his body and he answers, reaching to squeeze himself through the fabric, just for relief.

Nori sneezes. He falters, reminded of her presence and overcome by the urge to cover up. Proverbial tail between his legs, Shouto retreats to the privacy of his bedroom, shutting the door with a quiet click. Evening filters in through the windows, mauve and rosy. He kneels on the bed and it yields under his weight, frame silent while he crawls to the headboard and reclines back, phone in hand.

▻ Shit, sorry. I was joking you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to

The message goes over his head. He opens the front camera and stares back at his flushed, disheveled face before tilting the device, angling it toward his body.

Frosted fingertips trail up his stomach and it jumps, laying the hem of his shirt across his chest. Down again to the fine dark hair below his belly button, goosebumps rising across skin, blood rushing to the surface. Hooks his thumb suggestively into his waistband, hand splayed across his hip, and takes the photo.

Sooba ▻ [IMG_628] ▻ I want to

Shouto. Shouto. Shouto. Abuzz with salacious apprehension he wonders what would it sound like above him? Under him? Breath knocked from your lungs, whining through the motions. He traces the outline of his clock. Covers his eyes with the crook of his arm and releases a shuddered breath, hips rising into the heel of his hand. A hand too big to be yours. Sweatpants pushed halfway down his thighs he pictured it anyway—you laid on your side, at his side, loose fist stroking him root to weeping tip.

Shouto thumbs at the head, smearing precum over his sensitive frenulum. Panting heavier, he squeezes his cock and wonders, would you tease him? Lick into his mouth and tell him not to be quiet?

The phone in his hand buzzes. Anticipation grips his heart. He almost drops it on his face when he squints up to read the screen.

InsertNameHere ▻ Fuck. You’re so gorgeous ▻ I can’t concentrate

Sooba ▻ You like it?

InsertNameHere ▻ I’ll show you how much ▻ [IMG_447]

Heat races through him. You’re in a loose tank top, touching yourself over pale boyshorts. The dark straps have fallen around your shoulders in an almost demure manner, collar slipping forward to reveal the soft cleavage of your chest. You’ve mirrored his position, albeit a little higher, enough for your mouth to be in frame. Wet and rouge, if he thinks hard enough he can imagine he left them kiss bitten.

Sooba ▻ I want to touch you

He’s desperate to know what you like. The way you want to be touched, how you might yield under his wandering hands. Patterns dance behind his eyelids as he reaches to knead his pecs, pinching the pert nipple with a breathy moan. He smooths over his abdomen, corded muscle tensing beneath the added sensation, arousal coiling hot in his belly.

InsertNameHere ▻ Touch yourself for me instead, yeah? ▻ Gonna think about you too

“Fuck,” he chokes. Shouto loses his phone amongst the sheets. Feet planted flat to the mattress, his knees spread until the waistband protests. “Please. Please. I’m so close,” he whispers to the image in his mind. His pace stutters, feverish as he fucks his fist. Your lips brush soft along the column of his throat to feel him swallow. He turns into the pillow, mouth parted for heaving breath.

“That’s it Shouto. So beautiful for me,” you’ll murmur, so at home in the crook of his body. Amidst the desperation you’ll straddle his thigh, rhythm synchronized, chests rising. Your hand—his hand—slips further, fingers curled to press up behind his balls. He’s on fire. “Cum for me, baby. Let me see you cum”.

Shouto’s head tips back into the plush of his pillow, every muscle clenched. Pleasure rockets through him. His cock twitches in his grasp. He cums with a strung out moan, breaking into short, wet pants as he catches his breath.

Riding the gentle aftershocks, his arm falls heavily to the side and hits his bedsheets with a quiet thud. The smell of old petrichor blows into his room with the draft draws his attention to the darkened window. Streaks of gold sunlight peak between the buildings across the street where it settles under the horizon.

The stickiness between his fingers is difficult to ignore. Drying steadily on his chest. Reality returns to him slowly as he stares at his soiled hand. After cleaning himself up with the wipes in his bedside table, Shouto tugs up his sweatpants and rubs at the pink splotches leading up his throat. With clarity comes a vague haze of shame and he is loudly alone; something vibrates and he is anything but lonely. He lifts his head, rummaging through the sheets to find his phone.

InsertNameHere ▻ Want you to feel good ▻ You there baby? ▻ Sooba? ▻ Hm. That’s not the sexiest of names

Shouto laughed through his nose. Endeared by your awkward jump from flirting to nervously making up for a perceived misstep.

Sooba ▻ sorry can’t multitask ▻ shouldnt make fun of your house husbands name

Exiting his bedroom is uncomfortably close to a wall of shame. He drags his feet; gait unsteady for far nicer reasons than a near career ending injury. Nori has acquired his spot on the couch, retaining warmth in his absence. She observes him, all knowing.

InsertNameHere ▻ No capitalised letters? Punctuation? What have you done with my Sooba lol ▻ How are you feeling?

Sooba ▻ really good. sleepy

He wanders to the kitchen and dithers over his next message, leaning his forearms on the cool countertop. This fleeting, unintended conversation could change everything and that fact is starting to nag at him.

▻ what about you

InsertNameHere ▻ I feel really good. And sleepy <3

The implication is not lost on him. He chews his bottom lip, flustered at just how pleased that makes him.

The next burst of chat bubbles appear in an instant, one after another. Typed hastily as though to outrun your own apprehension.

▻ Can I ask you something?  ▻ Did you mean it when you said you’d come to the event with me? ▻ I have a plus one. I want to see you. But you don’t have to 

Shouto swallows. Tugged between elation and fear. You’ve become all he yearns for and you could be just that, his, yet he panics all the same. Heroism had consistently been his lacquered shield. An excuse for his self isolation that people had to begrudgingly accept. Working himself to the bone afforded the luxury of never having to dwell on it. 

Exhaustion aside he was content with the humdrum life he hid behind. Before you, Shouto rarely wanted for anything. He had his family, and good friends, and a job that felt rewarding; it didn’t seem worth it to lay himself bare and be dissected on the off chance that someone new might love him. 

Because hectic work and risks aside, he’s profoundly aware of the ghosts he has yet to conquer. That somewhere, there is something fundamentally different inside him that you might find disappointing. 

Unthinkingly, Shouto grapples with the courage in him existing on the fringes and replies in much the same way you had. 

Sooba ▻ I meant it. I want to see you too.  ▻ I’d like to go with you  ▻ Don’t worry about a plus one. I’ll meet you there 

InsertNameHere ▻ Wow, okay. That was easier than I thought. I’m so excited  ▻ And super nervous

As it turns out the impending date motivates Shouto like nothing before. Days pass without fault or interruption. The man-shaped dent in his couch rises without the constant weight. He sticks closely to the routine his physiotherapist drew up for him. Walks longer distances and soaks up the sun daily, to Tsutomu’s great delight. 

Too wrapped up in his own coalesced anxiety and elation, he realises he hadn’t found it remotely odd that you hadn’t questioned his ability to get into the auction. 

His train of thought is interrupted by a firm hand coming down on his shoulder. “Man of the hour!” A familiar sharp toothed grin blocks his vision. Shouto clenches under the sudden weight to keep himself upright as Kirishima gives him a shake, “We missed you around here. You’re looking good!”

The charity event is in full swing. An anticipatory lull permeates the atmosphere as the chosen guests, heroes and civilians alike, wait for the auction to finally begin. Shouto arrived fashionably late, as Mina called it, after spending nearly three hours on a group call with her, Yaoyorozu, and his sister. 

The applause upon his entry had not been expected. His palms are still clammy. 

Compared to Shouto's charcoal three piece suit, tailored to precision, Kirishima dons a charmingly loud burgundy blazer over a dark turtleneck, pulled together by a simple chain. The material is tight across his broad shoulders. “Thank you, Kirishima,” Shouto smiles. He looks him over, “You look good too”. 

That signature grin grows weary. “You really think so?” Kirishima lowers his voice into a hush, tugging at the loose hair framing his face. “I wasn’t so sure about tying my hair back. What if nobody bids for me? I’m dying inside just thinking about it”. 

Shouto turns away from the sea of vibrant clothing and chatter to pat his friend on the arm and level him with a serious look. “A lot of people are going to spend money on you tonight, Kirishima. But in the impossible event that they don’t I’ll bid on you myself,” he tells him. “We can go to Mythoscape and try that new rollercoaster”. 

“Bro…” Kirishima’s eyes are wide and glassy. While Shouto expects the firm hug, he is mildly surprised by the long, dramatic kiss to his cheek. His breath smells faintly of white wine. “You’re the best,” he continues as he sets Shouto back on his feet. “But is it really okay for you to do that?”

A flash goes off. Shouto frowns. He scans the crowd and rubs away the wet mark left behind. Yaoyorozu catches his attention with a delicate wave from her place beside Kendo and Uraraka. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks, smiling back, yet distracted. You’re still nowhere to be found. 

“Well,” Kirishima draws breath through his teeth. “Bakugo kinda told me about your crush on his PA,” whatever he sees pass over Shouto’s expression has him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and scrambling to explain. “Nothing bad, man! You know he actually seemed pretty approving of it, in his own way”. 

The evermoving mass of bodies sharpens around a few other familiar faces. Midoriya is excitedly gesticulating as he rambles to a visibly overwhelmed HSPC shareholder. Bakugo watches the interaction with no intention of concealing his amusement. 

“I’m not sure about that,” Shouto rasps, narrowing his eyes at the man in question, like the pressure behind it might be enough to elicit his attention. Bakugo of all the people here would know where you are. The phone snug in his inside blazer pocket remains silent. A pout works its way onto his lips before he can stop it. “He said I’m bad at flirting”. 

Kirishima stifles a laugh and clears his throat when Shouto directs the petulant glare to him. “You are a little bad at it. But only when you’re actually trying! And even then that’s part of what makes it charming, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know”. 

“You’re the type to flirt without realising you’re doing it—or atleast people think you are, because you’re handsome and attentive and whatnot. But when you try it’s kinda obvious and bro, please stop looking at me like that,” Kirishima explains clumsily, tone pitching higher the longer he talks. 

Shouto’s lips thin as he tries to suppress a smirk. He rights himself as Kirishima nudges his side, catching a smile of his own, “What I meant is you have a chance. And Bakubro thinks so too. He wants you to be happy”. 

The sentiment warms him from the inside out. But it also makes apparent something trepid and cold in his gut. Regardless of his friends unfettered support there remains the real possibility that he will be rejected. That you will be disappointed or scared away by his status. That you could do as you please with the intimate parts of his life ‘Sooba’ gave you.

Scarier is the hope that you won’t.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Shouto announces, noticing Endeavor prowling around in his peripheral vision. Kirishima’s brow furrows, mouth parted in confusion, no doubt seeking to reassure him. “I’m okay, Kirishima. I just need something to do with my hands”. 

“Alright,” the taller man murmurs. Shouto finds himself at the end of a gentle smile once more. “Make sure to say ‘hi’ to Denks if you see him. He misses you too”.

“I will,” Shouto nods, ducking away from the inexpressible tenderness that has clung to him since stepping into the hall. People part to allow him through. His left leg has already begun to feel weak, not enough to worry but enough to notice, and he hopes he can later blame his gait on the alcohol. 

He reaches the bar and wrinkles his nose at the thick amalgamation of perfume, body odour and over-applied cologne. The bartender slides up to him. “Umeshu, please,” he says. “On the rocks”. 

Another body settles beside him. He shifts to accommodate them but doesn’t look; too distracted as he inhales deeply through his nose and exhales long out his mouth to allay his beating heart. Pulling his phone out from his inside pocket, the screen lights up and he finds it void of messages. 

After the… sexting, things had been fine. Better in a lot of ways. You both felt emboldened to truly act on your feelings. Sharing more pictures, secrets—though never your names—and laughter.  It is disconcerting that you would now go silent. 

The bartender sets his drink down and Shouto quietly gives his thanks, bringing it to his face, briefly caught in the soft glimmer, cubed ice submerged in liquid gold, tasting the sweet aroma at the back of his throat. He tips it back and drinks. 

As the glass hits the surface once more, the person next to him softly asks, “Are you waiting on anyone?” 

And his mouth goes dry. 

You’re bracing on crossed arms, watching him closely. Speckled in the warm low light reflected on the bar, you are more beautiful than he remembers, and just as nervous. There’s an air of uncertainty about you that shifts as your eyes meet, faint but palpable, encouraged by what he can imagine is the wonder on his own face. 

Shouto wets his lips. The plum taste lingers on his tongue. “…I might be,” he murmurs. You brighten at his reciprocation, a more charged kind of nervous—the kind that swoops low in your belly right before you take a leap. 

“If I’m wrong don’t laugh and don’t tell Dynamite,” you turn to face him and smooth your hands over your hips. This allows him a better look at your attire. Silken fabrics that form gentle lines around the waist, loose but elegantly so, not in a way that the clothes wear you. 

Your eyes dipped low, averted to avoid his stare. He cannot seem to direct it anywhere else. The auction has fallen away in its entirety. As far as Shouto is concerned there’s only you. 

“It’s me. And you’re…Sooba?” 

The tremble in your voice shrikes through him and it occurs to Shouto that you have always been the brave one.

He leans into your space, enjoying the way you quickly draw breath at his proximity, forced to meet his gaze. Rather than something remotely suave or cool, he dumbly asks, “You knew?”

Part of him wants to tuck his shoulders to his ears as you begin to laugh. They’re warm, undoubtedly red. Amusement is not at all what he prepared for. He thought this might all end up in his scrapbook memory, to be taken out and pined over now and then. 

“Shouto-san with all due respect, you came to my workplace with your very recognisable crutches and stared at me like a deer in headlights”. 

“Shouto,” he says. 

Your laughter simmers, “Hm?”

“Just call me Shouto,” he tells you, equal parts relieved and embarrassed. 

“Shouto,” you smile at him with a fondness that derails his thoughts. He has the vague urge to whine when it wanes. “I’m—I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. I swear I didn’t know until after you visited the agency. It all made sense after I looked up your socials and saw some old pictures of Nori”. 

“It’s alright. I knew and didn’t say anything either,” Shouto inclines his head, abashed. Then with a sudden sharp sort of clarity, he continues, “So then you knew, when you asked for a dick—?”

Words evade him under the warm press of your hand as you quickly cover his mouth. You glance around the room, closer than before, and you don’t seem to realise. Cautious, he touches your waist; he puckers his lips to kiss your palm; he feels your stomach jump under the silky fabrics. 

Your eyes darken, swallowed by pupil. “You’re a menace,” you simper, and reluctantly pull away. “Maybe we should talk about this somewhere with less…cameras”. 

Umeshu abandoned, Shouto wraps an arm around your lower back and allows you to direct him through the crowd. You weave through the moving bodies like thread through a needle, at one point reaching behind to take his wrist, becoming his tether.

Bakugo meets his gaze from across the room. His eyes flit to you, widening in surprise. Shouto flashes a boyish grin before disappearing through the side door. 

The door you choose next opens to a private bathroom. Shouto surges forward, taking you by the hips and crowding you against the bathroom counter, overcome by the need to feel everything that you are pressing into everything that is him.

He kicks the door behind him and settles in the clutch of your thighs as you scramble to balance on the marble edge. Your hands slide over his shoulders, splaying over each cheek. You’re both breathing heavily despite having done nothing at all.

“I said talk,” you remind him with a tremulous smile. Shouto knows you’re being playful. He apologises anyway; rests his head in the crook of your neck, letting the moment simmer, and you comb through his hair with your fingers. A shiver rolls down his spine. 

“Did you know it was me? Before you came to the agency, I mean”. 

He reclines from his crook to look at you. Eye level, silhouetted by the cheap bathroom luminescence. “When I saw you in there—and put it together I was so scared,” you continued. 

“Scared?” he echoed with a frown, knuckles brushing your cheek. 

“Not like that. I was scared of what you might think,” you turn into his caress and his pinched expression falls away. He can’t stop touching you and he can’t bring himself to be sorry about it. “I mean, I looked terrible that day, and you appeared out of nowhere and I wasn’t mad it was you. I was just…”

You swallow thickly, emotion swelling in your eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners. “You’re so big and bright. I didn’t want you to be disappointed”.

You were unaware of it—the profound cord you struck within him. How even in anonymity, your incorporeal fingers always seemed to find it. Even now, as you echo his own fears. 

“Momo first mentioned you might work for Bakugo. I didn’t know before I saw you that day. I still wasn’t certain until tonight”. You peer at him through your lashes then, listening intently. He brings your foreheads together and tells you, “There is no way you could’ve disappointed me”. 

“Oh? I could’ve been a villain”.

“My oldest brother was a villain,” he monotoned, wandering hands squeezing intermittently at your waist as though to make sure you’re still there. “My capacity for love and forgiveness knows no bounds”. 

You snort. The sound is abrupt and the force knocks your skulls together. “Oh—ow,” he grins, insides melting. Together you dissolve into a warm fit of laughter. 

“Hey, Shouto?” 

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes fluttering as your thumb swipes over the red mark below his hairline. “I like you,” you murmur. “I like you so much it’s stupid”.  

Plunged into an ice cold realisation, Shouto freezes to process your words. “You—like me?” 

“Yeah?” you said it like he was dense, like it was clear all along. “I can’t help it when you’re so…yourself”

And isn’t that all he’s ever wanted? To be loved without pretense, without a winner. To be special to someone for no special reason. 

“Oh,” he breathes. “Me too. I like you. I want—” his fingers flex at your hips, grounding. He blinks. “I don’t know your name yet”. 

Affection colours your features. Shouto likes you best like this—sure of yourself, of his feelings for you. You recite your name. He repeats it endlessly in his mind and rolls it around his teeth. He calls to you even when you’re right in front of him. 

“Can I kiss you now?” 

“You were waiting?” you laugh, tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s such a novel thing but it makes something monumental swell in his chest. “Kiss me. I want you to”. 

Given permission, Shouto traces the curve of your jaw with a bold shyness, from the sensitive skin below your ear to your chin. His finger hooks beneath. You’re lovely. He thinks he could spend an hour describing your demure half smile, how your lips yield under the light pressure of his thumb; your tongue darting out reflexively. 

He shakes at the desire that fills him. He’s not used to it—this wanting. It feels like a thousand insatiable butterflies in his chest. Dipping into your magnetism, his heart beat faster and faster with the simple brush of your lips. He kissed you, innocent and honest, and then he kissed you again, licking the seam of your mouth, arms coiling around your middle as you cling to him. 

You tip forward. Your thighs clench at his waist and drag him impossibly close. It brings you chest to chest. He tries to hold you steadfast as your hand wraps around his nape, softly scratching his scalp; he feels you smile against his lips when he shudders. 

You break for air. Arousal shoots through him at your half moan, the sound tapering into a happy hum the instant his lips trail down your neck, tasting your pulse before making his way down to your exposed collar. He peppers kiss after kiss on every swathe of skin he can reach, sinking teeth into every little reaction you give him. 

Big hands at your lower back arch your body into his. You yield, tension sapped from your limbs, grappling his shoulders to keep yourself from falling while you grind down on his lap. Shouto groans, grip slipping lower to cup your ass. 

“We’re getting carried away,” you gasp between kisses. That alone was obvious. His cock strains uselessly in his suit pants. But the light glints tantalisingly along your mouth, swollen and wet with saliva. Shouto kisses you again so you won’t have to tell him to attend to his responsibilities. 

A warm breath scores his cheek as you huff through your nose, nipping firmly at his lower lip. “I mean it. I am technically still at work,” you try again, voice lacking strength. “Dynamite will knock on every door in this building—don’t wrinkle your nose, you know I’m right”.

“Alright. I know,” he rasps, barely an exhale. It takes all his willpower to pull away. He steadies you on your feet, smoothing out the creases in your formal attire while you are quite pleased to simply watch on as he adjusts himself in his pants. “I’m glad my suffering is funny to you”. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” you murmur, pecking the corner of his mouth. “I'll hide with you in the corner like I promised I would. We can make up for lost time after the auction. You know. The one for charity”. 

Shouto hums and reaches for the door, knowing you’ve won. “Oh. I told Kirishima I’d bid for his date night,” he recalls as he turns the handle. “Would that bother you?” 

“Of course not baby,” you reply and take one last look at your reflection, less disheveled than before. The endearment ‘baby’ almost has him walking into the doorframe.

You straighten up. Shouto thinks he must look incredibly dumbstruck, if your concerned expression is any indication. “You okay?” you ask, proffering your hand. “You didn’t bring your crutches tonight, did you?”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” he intertwines your fingers, dizzy as you squeeze around him. 

“It’s just a tremor”. 

[fluffyartbl0g]

Redraw of the panels that SHATTERED MY HEART o(；△；)o!!! OG panels + Opinions on the Luffy separation arc under read more

Okay let me just go on a tangent about my feelings about the post-series Luffy separation arc, cause I think it gets way too much hate when it’s such a heartbreaking and well executed deviation from oda’s standard formula!!! I know that we all love monkey d. luffy and he’s LITERALLY the main character of the series, but it was also really nice to get more time to focus on the rest of the crew. But here’s the thing, even when Luffy wasn’t here, he was still here. And I’m not talking about the so called ‘blessings’ or whatever that kept SUSPICIOUSLY popping up around the crew when Luffy disappeared, I’m talking about the consequences that arised from him disappearing. We truly got to see how grand the effect luffy has had on the world around him, and how many lives he was able to touch ; - ; So even though luffy physically wasn’t present (I mean KIND OF but you know what I mean), this was still VERY MUCH a luffy arc imo. 

Oh man but I think Oda wrote luffy’s disappearance so well,,, I was sobbing for like 80 percent of this arc. Like just gradually seeing the crew’s deterioration as time passes by,,, but everyone has such unwavering faith in their captain, he HAS to come back cause Luffy always comes back. But here’s the thing, Luffy didn’t know what was happening to him when he started disappearing. But what he DID know is that he wasn’t sure if he was gonna be able to come back or not. And Luffy hates breaking promises- he’d never make a promise if he didn’t plan to keep it, and he’s not an idiot either, so when he just felt himself disappearing and saw zoro nearby... Instead of saying something like “I’ll be back!” and potentially making his crewmates wait for him forever, he tells zoro to “take care of the crew”... SOBBING AND CRYING T - T. So YES. the crew has unwavering faith in their captain. But. Luffy didnt say that he’d be coming back or anything. So what are they supposed to do really.

And it’s really hard to read at some parts, like it never loses the goofy tone that has been there throughout all of one piece and it’s really sweet to see everyone rely on each other to keep one another afloat, but the slight tension that keeps building up over the months while they keep looking for clues and answers... And how each lead keeps becoming a dead end... When it builds up and Usopp finally voices the thing that’s on everyone’s mind.

Oh man. I started crying so hard. It took 6 month for any one of them to say something. Like this is One piece. Of course Luffy is gonna come back eventually, it would be waay too dark otherwise... But Idk man, even I started to doubt that :((( But luckily. THIS IS ONE PIECE. So right after everyone started,,, well not exactly losing hope or anything (maybe a bit)? but going BATSHIT INSANE FROM THE REALITY THAT THEIR CAPTAIN MIGHT BE GONE FOR GOOD, they finally got a solid actual clue of what might’ve happened to luffy!!! And I’m SO GLADDDD!!!!

Omg and when they tracked down the pray-pray no mi user and finally got some answers out of him. OMG WAIT A MOMENT I REALLY LIKED IS WHEN PRIEST GUY IS LIKE “urerheg without luffy up there as a god the entire world may very well be destroyed cause the sun has been super unstable for centuries blah blah” and then Nami freaking PUMMELED THE GUY AND SHOVED HIM DOWN WITH HER STAFF AND

SOBBING CRYING SOBBING. THEY WOULD POTENTIALLY BLOW UP THE ENTIRE WORLD IF IT MEANT THAT THEIR CAPTAIN WOULDNT HAVE TO BE LONELY ; - ; KILL ME.

URGH I was really hoping that Luffy would return right once they beat him up cause I really really missed my boy, but honestly I think the final method of getting Luffy to return was super clever and absolutely worth the extra 3 weeks of waiting!!! I know that it was foreshadowed across the whole West Blue Saga and everything but I honestly had no clue it would end like that, DONT MAKE FUN OF ME :(((

When the crew finally got their captain back after 8 months of waiting... I mean they’ve been separated before for even longer periods of time, but they always knew that they’d be back together. This time they didn’t know. BUT AREHAHRGE ALL THE PAIN AND SUFFERING WAS SO WORTHIT WHEN THEY ALL FINALLY REUNITED T - T!!!!!! UWAHHWHAHWUAAGGHA!!! AND SEEING ALL THEIR ALLIES AND FRIENDS THEYVE MADE JUST CHEER AND CRY WHEN THEY HEAR THE NEWS!!!! I WOULD CHUCK ALL THE PANELS HERE IF I COULD BUT ID JUS T REACH THE IMAGE LIMIT BECAUSE ALL OF THEM MADE ME CRY ; - ;!!! Literally just read those 5 chapters in the arc finale cause,,,, man so good T - T

Anyways TLDR: The post-series luffy seperation arc is NOT BAD and you guys are JUST COWARDS AND LIARS!!!!

[lucyswinter]

i’d loveeee some jonathan crane x reader headcanons where he’s jealous because his gf is a baddie 🫣🫣🫣

pairing: jonathan crane x fem!reader

genre: fluff (with a hint of smut)

warnings: mentions of SEX!!!! (���😏)

(a/n): hey guys!! sorry for ditching y’all for like a month but I’m back!! I’ve just been busy with school and work but I have a lot of recs to fill so I’ll be posting some this week! recs are still open btw for anyone interested! also shoutout to aki for explaining to me what a baddie is😭

♡ ♡ ♡

-when jon gets jealous, he gets protective, and having a hot and confident girlfriend who other guys like to stare at can get him very jealous

-he looooves treating you when you go shopping. oh you want that lipgloss? done. that dress? it’s yours. the prada bag? pulling out his credit card as you speak

-he’ll even invest in those ridiculously scandalous outfits you love so much. even though he doesn’t particularly enjoy it when you wear the skin-tight dresses or the see-through tank tops around anyone besides him, he enjoys seeing you happy, and he enjoys eventually tearing them off of you every night

-despite spoiling you so much, he tries to be controlling sometimes, but you could not care less because you think it’s cute when he gets jealous

-“you can’t possibly believe that im going to let you out in public wearing…that…” “well i do, because what are you gonna do about it?”

-whenever you go out, he secretly death stares every guy that sneaks a peek at your ass or your tits when you aren’t paying attention

-he’s gotten into multiple violent altercations at bars because guys have hit on you while he was in the bathroom or buying you a drink.

-“baby, that creep was flirting with you! i was simply standing my ground. that poor excuse of a dress wasn’t helping much though…” “sorry, what was that last part?” “nothing…”

-to remind people that you’re his, he likes to have his hands on you in some way. around your waist, holding your hand, fingers gripping your ass, whatever it was to assert dominance on anyone he thought was competition

-in private though, this man is the king of body worship. like he makes sure you know that every part of you is perfect, even though obviously you need no reminder

-even during sex, when he’s always the one in control, you still like finding little ways to tick him off

-“remember, you’re mine” “sure sure…”

♡ ♡ ♡

(a/n): thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 next up is a neil lewis blurb, and then a hotch blurb! stay tuned for those!! I promise i won’t go mia b4 posting those lol

[mountttmase]

Don’t Do This

Note - so this is the fic I thought I’d posted but actually never did 🙄not too sure if this is the right time to post anything but I’d really appreciate some feedback on this please 💙

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 5K

Warnings - smut and angst with a smidge of fluff

‘Last day huh?’

‘Yes Chilly, it’s my last day. You know this’ you huffed, looking at him as he stood leaning up against your door frame. ‘Have you come to help carry some boxes?’ You asked, batting your eyelashes in attempts to charm in into helping. It must of worked though as he begrudgingly rolled his eyes, but lifted a few boxes anyway.

‘Do you think I can claim this as extra gym work?’ He laughed, following you down to your car and packing it into the boot. ‘You said goodbye to everyone yet?’

‘Most people’ you nodded, your eyes fluttering down so he couldn’t read your emotions and thankfully he changed the subject for now.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind’ he teased, gently bumping his shoulder into yours making you laugh as you began to walk back inside the building.

‘Since my replacement starts tomorrow, I think it might be’

‘But Cobham won’t be the same without you. Everyone loves you here’ he reasoned, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You looked up at him with a questioning face and he laughed lightly, clearly catching onto what you were implying. ‘Okay well most people do’

‘It’s fine, I can’t be everyone’s cup of tea’ you shrugged ‘I’m not leaving because of him you know, this is a really good opportunity for me’

‘I know I know, I just wish he wasn’t such an arsehole for no reason’ he huffed as you made it back to your office.

‘That’s all of it then, just got a few more emails to go over and I’ll head out’

‘Well I only came up to say goodbye, so get in here’ he laughed as he held his arms out for a hug. ‘Keep in touch yeah? And I mean it. I’m not just saying that cause that’s what you’re supposed to say’

‘I know Chilly, I promise I will’ you told him, voice heavy with emotion as you said goodbye to one of the first boys on the team who spoke to all those months back. Taking you under his wing and showing you around, acting as if he was your work big brother.

You tried to get on with your final few bits of work but you we’re constantly disturbed by people coming to say goodbye, so when the clock struck half six and you were finally done, you weren’t surprised to find the building empty. Eventually you packed up the last of your things, taking the long way out so you could have one last look around the place before heading to the car park.

As you were passing the gym, the door opened to reveal Mason, the only person who hadn’t spoken to you today. In fact he rarely ever did. Your eyes met, both looking shocked to see each other still here before his gaze dropped to the floor like usual.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him though. He hadn’t been around too much due to an injury so you were unsure if he even knew you were going but you couldn’t tell either way due to his usual stand offish nature.

He looked completely different from the last time you’d seen him, the floppy locks that once made home on his head had gone, a pretty harsh buzz cut in its place and you hated the way it made your tummy flip. Mason seemed to harvest a special power in his hair, the longer it got the cuter and more boy next door he looked yet right now like this, he was intimidating but in the best way possible and all you could think about was feeling the back of his head under your fingers. The thought making you blush and you quietly coughed so you could speak to him without making a fool of yourself.

‘H-hi Mason. I heard you were back. How’s the recovery going?’

‘Yeah, fine thanks’ he nodded, chewing on his bottom lip as he still stared down at the floor. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t tear your eyes off of him and his new look or the way his features seemed so much more prominent now. His cheek bones lifted and the the red patch of skin across his nose that you’d always secretly adored was even deeper than before. ‘You off then?’ He questioned quietly, and your heart thumped at the sound of his voice as he finally looked up to meet your gaze. It was unfair how good he looked, the freckles that washed over the tops of his cheeks making you want to reach out and touch him but you stood your ground so you could give him a coherent answer.

‘Yeah, just on my way out now’ you told him and he nodded his head whilst folding his arms.

‘Well, good luck with everything’ he breathed but before you had time to reply, he was walking passed you and off to get changed. You were about to call after him but figured there was no point. As much as he was a delight to everyone else, there seemed to be something about you that he couldn’t get on with. Choosing to keep his distance and only speaking to you when necessary which wasn’t very often. You wondered if you’d done something wrong to make him be like this with you but he’d always been standoffish from the start.

At first you thought it might of been nerves, but once you realised he was only like it with you, you figured you just weren’t his type of person. He was never rude, always giving you a small smile if you saw each other passing in the halls and holding doors open for you if you were around but you wished you’d of got to experience the Mason you saw around other people when he didn’t think you were watching.

You eventually made it to your car, setting the last of your things in the back seat before getting behind the wheel. You went to grab your phone to plug it into the charger but after rummaging around in your bag and realising it wasn’t there you huffed, trudging back inside as you remembered it was still plugged into the socket next to your desk.

After a quick chat in reception to explain why you were heading back in, you opened the door to find Mason sat at your desk, his elbows propped up with head in his hands but as soon as he heard the door creak, he turned to look your way, his glassy eyes staring into your soul as you both froze, not knowing what the other was doing there.

‘I thought you’d gone’ he panicked, standing up but freezing again as if he didn’t know what to do.

‘I forgot my phone’ you breathed, pointing to it sat on the side and he gulped as he looked at it. ‘Why are you in here?’ You questioned softly, carefully stepping towards him but you could see he was panicking and you didn’t want to overwhelm him. ‘Mase, talk to me’

He gulped at the use of his nickname, one you’d never called him to his face and you flushed when you realised. He dragged a hand over his face before looking at you again, his eyes now a little harder now as he looked for an escape route.

‘It doesn’t matter’ he mumbled attempting to walk passed you, but you shut the door and stood in front of it so he couldn’t get past and his brows furrowed a little at he looked at you. ‘What are you doing?’

‘You’re not leaving until you talk to me’

‘You can’t hold me prisoner here, y/n. Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone’

‘As of an hour ago I’m no longer an employee, so there’s not much anyone can do’

‘Come on, just move’ he huffed, attempting to move you but you held your ground. ‘

‘No Mason, you need to tell me-‘

‘What’ he snapped, frustration pouring from him and he turned away from you to walk towards the window. ‘What do you want me to say?’

‘The truth. Why you were in here? And what I ever did to make you hate me whilst your at it’ you spat and he turned back to you full of shock and confusion as he took a few steps towards you.

‘I don’t hate you, why would you think that?’

‘Well you’ve never exactly been friendly with me’ you scoffed and he shut his eyes whist taking a deep breath at having been caught out. ‘I see how you are with everyone else and yeah you’re not a total dick with me but I know you avoid me when you can. Like this is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had. It’s not exactly a nice felling’ you told him, a hint of hurt in your voice and you felt your eyes fill with tears. You didn’t know you were this upset by it but saying it out loud made you realise your were.

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid’ he snapped his eyes looking desperate and you were about to step out of the way but something inside you told you that you needed to know what he was doing in here. So you stood your ground even though you knew this might end badly. You knew he’d never hurt you but the crazed look in his eyes was egging you on. Thinking he was about to snap and you wanted answers. ‘What do you want me to say y/n? That I feel like a complete twat cause I couldn’t tell you how I really felt? That I can’t talk to you properly cause you make me nervous and I know if I spend time around you then I’ll fall for you? So I kept away from you cause it was against the rules? That I was sat in here cause it’s just hit me I’ve missed my chance and I wanted to feel close to you?’

You were shocked, your eyes growing wider as he laid all his cards on the table. Only realising he’d shared too much when it was too late. He stopped abruptly, his fingers interlocking behind his head as he turned away from you, muttering a a slew of curse words into the air.

‘If that’s the truth, then yeah I want you to say that’

‘Please, y/n. Don’t do this’

‘Fine’ you breathed, opening the door and stepping away. He clearly had some things he needed to work through and holding him hostage was just irritating him even more. You watched him vanish quickly out, biting your lip as your mood sunk even further. You didn’t want this to be your last memory of being here and you were annoyed at him for tainting it.

You grabbed your phone so you could get out of there as quickly as you could and not bump into him again. As soon as you we’re heading to the door, you saw him storming back in, his dark eyes set on you as he grabbed a hold of your face and crashed his lips into yours.

You became paralysed under his touch, his lips moving against yours but you were frozen for a few seconds until yours finally began moving against him. The sound of him kicking the door shut made you jump slightly as your hands traveled to his chest, feeling his heart thrum against your fingers but he walked you backwards until your legs hit the desk behind you.

He lifted you by your thighs and you squealed as you were plonked down, never once taking his lips from yours as he kissed you with all he had. You were unsure at first as to why you were kissing him back, but you knew deep down this is what you were longing from him. Yeah friends would be nice but you’d craved this sort of contact with him from the second you saw him. His new haircut wasn’t exactly helping the situation and with it seemed to of bought a new sense of dominance to him.

You moaned into mouth as he brushed his tongue against yours, the kiss still messy and desperate as your hands traveled down his body and dipped under his shirt. Your palms laid flat on his abs and felt them tense under your touch as he moaned into your mouth before pulling away.

‘Do you trust me?’ He breathed into your mouth as his hands moved to grip you at your waist before his lips trailed down your neck. Did you trust him? When you thought about it, you’re barely knew him but you were too caught up in whatever was happening right now to ruin it so you nodded. He smiled into your neck before helping down and moving you to then hidden area of your office.

That was one thing you’d miss about this office, the L shape of it meant there was a small section hidden out the way when you first walked in and you always used it to your advantage. Keeping a mini fridge and a small sofa there for cheeky afternoon naps. Currently only the latter was there and Mason looked ready to use this to his advantage.

You weren’t sure what was happening so you tugged on the hand he was holding to get him to stop and he turned to face you. His eyes were wild, his cheeks flushed as he started you down with parted lips. You were about to ask him what he was doing when he grabbed your hand before placing it on his crotch. You could feel him hard as a rock underneath your touch and you sucked in a deep breath as your heart hammered at the contact.

‘You have no fucking idea what you do to me, do you?’ He questioned, his voice low and rough, his words causing your thighs to clench together. ‘Like you said, you’re no longer an employee now, so we’re both safe’

‘Mason’ you breathed, a slight panic in your voice as it was now clear he wanted to fuck you in your office. He face softened at the sound, as he moved your hand away from his bulge and placed it over his heart instead, cupping your jaw as he looked at you intently.

‘Tell me to stop and I will’ he mumbled but you were way past that. The only thing in your mind was having whatever he was hiding in his boxers buried inside you, so you shook your head and he gave you a devilish smile. ‘Good choice’ he teased as you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

He slipped his hands around your waist and pulled you in front of him so he could guide you to where he wanted you, his bulge now pressing into the back of you and your tummy flipped at the feeling. Once you were at the sofa, he pushed you forward again with his hips so you were forced to kneel on it, facing the wall as you held the back for support and you felt his hands dip under your top to stroke your waist.

‘Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined being locked in here with you, bending you over this sofa just like now and fucking the life out of you’ he growled and the shock of his words made your knees weak but you were thankful for the fact you were already being held up by the sofa.

Mason had only been in your office a handful of times in the ten or so months you’d been working at Chelsea, but you remembered the first time like it was yesterday. He’d come with Chilly and you were giving them a little tour. You’d managed to get the sofa in that morning so you were showing it off but Mason seemed in his own little world like usual however thinking back you could now tell from the flushed face and lack of eye contact that he was imagining what he could do with you on there.

‘Or how many times I’ve thought about sitting here watching you between my legs with my dick in your mouth. You drive me insane’ he told you, pulling flush against him as he spoke into your ear. You loved how rough he was being with you, but his hands were still gentle and it was sending you nuts. The thought of tasting him made your eyes roll back in your head and you were willing so say or do anything at this moment to make that happen, so you pressed back into him further which made him whimper and drop his head into your shoulder.

‘Let’s start with that then’ you murmured and he held you tighter and seemed to shiver at your words. He didn’t say anything else, just helped you back off the before taking a seat in the middle and standing you between his thighs so he could start to undress you. ‘Wait’ you said in a panic and he stopped what he was doing instantly. His hands flying back to hold up beside his head as if in surrender.

You quickly dashed across the room to shut the blinds, and then over to the the door to lock it before returning to him, a cheeky smile dressed on your face as he’s looked up at you with wide and nervous eyes.

‘Just wanted to be safe’ you winked before grabbing the bottom of your shirt and whisking it off in one swift motion. You heard him breathe out heavily and he bit his lip to take you in, thankful you’d worn a nice bra that day. You felt his hands grab you at your waist to pull you in a bit closer to him, leaving kisses all over your ribs as you attempted to get out of your joggers and once you’d kicked them across the room he watched his eyes flicker all over you. ‘Like what you see?’

‘Always have’ he told you before getting up to take his hoodie and top off together. You looked at him in awe as he moved, the muscles flexing under his skin making you feel hot all over, his prominent collar bones and bulging arms making you want you reach out and kiss all over his body. ‘Like what you see?’ he winked, repeating your words before tugging his joggers off too and you waited till he was up looking at you again before answering.

‘Always have’

With that, his lips were on you again, and you could feel his burning skin touching yours causing you to whimper into his mouth. He pulled off you with a smile, your lip between his teeth and it snapped back into place as he let go.

‘Sit down for me’ you whispered seductively, pushing on his chest lightly so he’d collapse onto the sofa before you could straddle his thighs and bring him in for another heated kiss. The feel of his hands on your skin was driving you wild and it wasn’t long before you were pushing yourself up so you could slip between his legs.

‘Y/n, are you sure?’ You heard Mason whisper as you reached up to the waistband of his boxers in order to free him.

‘I’m sure’ you told him and you watched him gulp as he lifted his hips to help you out, his impressive length slapping against his abdomen made your mouth water and you couldn’t wait to give him what he wanted.

All thoughts of arguments or not getting on we’re out the window as you took a hold of him in your hand, the breathy moan tumbling from his lips only spurring you on as you finally wrapped your lips around him.

‘Jesus Christ, y/n’ he whimpered, his hands trying to fist the sofa cushions but he couldn’t get a grip on anything. In the end you took his hands and placed them on your head so he could lace his fingers through your hair and he waisted no time in doing just that. He didn’t try and move your head at all, just kept your hair out of the way as you slowly took him in deeper, feeling his thigh muscles flutter under your fingers. ‘Fuck you’re so good at that’

You slowly pulled off of him whilst your hand took over, pumping him lazily as you looked up at him through your lashes. He looked so beautiful, his pouty lips were slightly parted and he started down at you, the bridge of his nose and cheeks a healthy pink and it was only getting deeper the more you turned him on.

‘Please’ he whispered, his hips bucking up into your hand you you smiled at him lightly. ‘Please baby, I need to feel your mouth around me’

You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head before leaning forward to take him back in your mouth, your eyes on him the whole time and you could tell he was struggling to keep his composure as you tried you hardest to make him feel good, but he next time you were coming back up for air he was pushing you off of him so he could help you up.

‘Kneel back up here for me’ he whispered, planting your knees on on the cushions as he jumped up and settled behind you. He gripped the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down until they were halfway down your thighs before getting on his knees behind you. ‘You’re dripping’ he laughed before you heard him let out a breath, licking one long stripe against you whilst moaning and kissing over the backs of your thighs but a knock on the door made you both stop in your tracks.

Panicked, you both froze in silence. Breaths held in as you waited for a sign to move and the eventual sound of footsteps retreating made you let your breath out and look down to Mason with a panicked expression.

‘Mason-’

‘I know I know. But I’m not leaving here without fucking you. We’ll be quick yeah’ he told you, standing up and gripping your bum so he could spread you out a little further for him. ‘Just relax’ He didn’t give you a chance to protest, not that you were planning on it, pushing himself in and out of you slowly until you started to moan a bit louder and he picked his pace up.

‘God Mase, keep going’ you breathed gripping onto the back of the sofa for dear life before he pulled you up and against his body, on arm around your waist and the other dipping in between your legs so he could tease your clit and get you further along the line.

You had nothing to hold onto eventually throwing your arm back to grip the back of his head whilst you held onto his other arm as he ploughed into you as quick as he could. It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first time with Mason, not that you ever thought there would be one, but he was hot and sweaty and you were more turned on than you ever could remember being. Drops of sweat dripping down your skin as his lips placed heavy kisses on your neck.

‘Come on baby, I need you to cum for me. I promise next time I’ll go slower’ he groaned, but you didn’t need much more convincing, the promise of next time tipping you over the edge and the feel of you pulsing around him made Mason finish just seconds after, his head buried in your neck as he tried to stifle his moans but you relished them, secretly proud that you could make him feel that way. ‘Right, plan of action. We quickly get dressed, you leave the way you came and I’ll head the long way round and leave out the side door yeah? Then I’ll meet you in the car park’

‘What if they ask what took me so long?’

‘I don’t know, say you had to take a personal call or something. That’s why the door was locked’

‘You’re sneaky’ you laughed but it quickly turned into a gasp as he started pulling out of you, wiping you clean with his boxers before putting his joggers back on with nothing underneath. You got dressed as quickly as you could, adjusting your hair in the reflection in the window before you both set off. Mason giving you a quick kiss before you went your separate ways and you fretted the whole way back about lying to the reception staff to the point your face was blood red by the time you got there.

Thankfully they believed your story, giving you one final good bye before you you raced back to your car. Mason already putting his stuff in his boot a few cars down but he soon wondered over to see you.

‘Do you wanna follow me back to mine maybe? Unless you have plans or something?’

‘No I’d like that’ you smiled, nudging his shoulder gently before you both got into your cars and drove off. Thankfully Mason lived a lot closer than you did and you parked up next to his car when you arrived before he took you inside. There was big smile on his face as he walked you through to the kitchen and you felt yourself being a little awkward about everything. Just over an hour ago the boy in front of you couldn’t bare to be around you and now you were at his house after you’d had a quickie your old office. You were overwhelmed and he picked up on it pretty quickly, directing you over the the sofa and sitting down facing you so you could speak but nothing seemed to be coming out of your mouth.

‘Is everything okay?’ He asked tentatively

‘Yeah sorry just a bit overwhelmed’ you laughed. ‘We seem to of gone from 1 to 100 pretty quickly’

‘Yeah I guess I’ve got some explaining to do’ he chuckled, brushing his hand over the top of his head and you had to restrain yourself so you didn’t reach out and touch it too.

‘Did I ever do anything to-‘

‘No no’ he interrupted, tentatively reaching for your hand and you let him link your fingers together.

‘What happened then?’

‘I didn’t mean it’ he whispered, cautiously getting closer to you until he was sat right next to you. You heart was hammering and you willed your tears to stay in your eyes. His other hand touched your arm as if to comfort you as he let out a soft sigh, your eyes searching his sad ones to figure out what you should say to each other. ‘Sorry, y/n. It was never intentional. I’d hate for you to think I didn’t like you cause I do’ he told you softly, almost as if he was admitting it to himself as well as you and in return you offered him a small smile. ‘I think it’s just I didn’t want you to like me’

‘Why not?’

‘Cause I knew if you did then I wouldn’t be able to keep away from you and I didn’t want to jeopardise anything for you. I know you love your job and you’re so good at it so I didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t have it. Seems like that’s happening anyway though’ he sighed in disappointment as he rubbed circles in your hand. ‘I feel like I drove you away’

‘You’re not why i left, Mase’ you told him, cupping his jaw to hopefully get him to look at you and you felt your heart hammer when he finally did. His dark brown orbs staring straight through to your soul and you both gave each other a small smile. ‘I’m only up the road. And it’s not like it’s another football team. I’m still a Chelsea girl’

‘I guess I could learn to like cricket’ he huffed, pulling you into his lap where you both just sat in each others arms for a little while. Finally gaining the courage to reach up and brush your hand over the back of his head, feeling just the way you imagined it would and you smiled as you heard him hum into your neck. You chuckled when you saw the dimple pop in his cheek, thinking this was probably the first time you’d been the reason for it.

‘Hey, Mase? Why did you cut all your hair off?’

‘I get hot in the summer if it’s too long’ he laughed before looking at you shyly. ‘Why, do you not like it?’

‘Quite the opposite, I think it’s very sexy’ you winked, causing him to blush and look away before turning back to you with a sparkle in his eye.

‘Is that so?’ He asked and you just nodded whilst biting your lip seductively. ‘How about I take you upstairs and show you how sexy I’ve always found you? Properly this time, I barely got to taste you before’ he whispered against your lips, drawing circles on your thigh and even though you’d had him not that long ago you were itching for more so you nodded before kissing him quickly to let him know you were ready. He surprised you by throwing you over his shoulder, your laugh ringing throughout his halls as he made his way up to his room.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you thought as it really helps motivate me to want to write more 🩷

[goldenhypen]

⌏⎯ TAKE ME

pairing… jake x fem!reader | genre… fluff | wc… 0.7k | warnings… none

a.n… idk if y’all remember my post ‘gorgeous’ but y’all seemed to rlly like that one, so if you’re looking for smth similar,, i suggest you read this one 👀 no promises it’ll satisfy but i’m just rlly missing this man and needed to do smth about it :’) enjoy <3

jake checked you out from behind, his eyes slowly trailing down your figure, and then back up as you looked at yourself in the mirror, making final touch ups to your appearance as you were almost ready to leave.

"can i come?" you heard, jake’s voice low and soft as he stepped closer to you.

immediately, his hands met your waist, circling around from behind as he pressed his body against yours.

but before letting yourself melt under him, you turned around under his fingertips, placing your hands sternly on his chest and almost pushing him away, "no, it's only the girls today."

ending with a shake of your head, you looked into his eyes again, expecting to meet an understanding gaze, but to your surprise, his stare was strong, intense. at this, you parted your lips to speak, but the words found themselves stuck in your throat, and suddenly whatever you had on your mind escaped your grasp.

he leaned in closer, his eyes intently on your lips. and before you could even react, he was already kissing you, not even a second later, already somehow managing to take your breath away.

the passion poured into the kiss caused your legs to grow weak, but his strong hold prevented you from going anywhere even if you tried.

eventually, he pulled back, leaving you in a daze and whining at the loss, finding yourself leaning in for more.

but his next words stopped you.

"can i come?" he asked again, an almost hint of amusement in his voice.

eyes never leaving his lips, without thought, you nodded, the desire to kiss him again still clouding your mind. and before you knew it, you were grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back in.

however, unable to even fully savour the moment, he pulled back, a cheeky grin plastered on his lips.

"great!" he exclaimed, a look of joy spreading across his face. he leaned in closer again, looking deeply into your eyes. "i’ll get ready then,” he whispered before giving you a wink and walking away.

blinking a few times, you stood there dumbfounded. it took a moment for reality to sink in, and when it did, you realised, he really tricked you.

wasting no time, you followed him frustratingly, upset that he not only fooled you into letting him tag along for something he wasn’t invited to, but he also left you craving for more kisses, and the fact that he left you longing for more fired something up in you.

you stormed after him, opening your mouth to speak, but before your words could escape, he already beat you to it.

"you know, i was only teasing you," he started, turning around with a chuckle, making you feel both relieved yet foolish at the same time. “i wouldn’t ruin today; i know how much you’ve been looking forward to it,” he paused before continuing in a playful tone, “even if it means having fun without me.”

“you wouldn’t ruin it,” you clarified.

“you get the point,” he said. “you look really pretty today, by the way.”

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. you chuckled, resting your arms around his waist and head on his chest.

“thank you,” you let out softly. “i wish you could come, you know i do.”

“no, i know,” he laughed. “you can just make it up to me by taking me out next time, yeah?”

“you’re acting as though this is some sort of long goodbye—like we’re not going to see each other for a long time,” you smiled.

“i mean, i don’t know about you, but to me, four hours without you feels like forever.”

you pulled away slightly, narrowing your eyes at him before smacking his chest.

resting back down, you let out, voice just above a whisper, “so cheesy.”

you remained there, cherishing his warmth for just a few moments more, but eventually you pulled away.

he noticed as your eyes met his lips, and taking the hint, he quickly met you in the middle.

“i’ll see you later, okay?” you said, resting your forehead on his, a small smile lighting up your face, a sight that never failed to leave jake’s heart doing crazy flips in his chest.

he pulled you in once more, his hands holding the sides of your face.

“continue when you get back?” he suggested as he finally pulled away, a smirk growing on his face.

you left one last quick kiss on his lips.

“i’ll be back before you know it.”

a/n… ahh first work since the hiatus hehe hope this put a smile on your face :)) as always, reblogs, feedback, etc are always always appreciated !! love u mwah <3

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello hello!

I saw your “Them comforting reader after a long day” post and i thought how about a “reader comforts them after a long day” with Furina/Mona and whoever you choose. I’m gonna go back to bing read your posts now! Take care!

Comforting them after a long day

characters: Furina / Mona x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: maybe slight hurt/comfort, but mostly fluff

a/n: Couldn't exactly go the full comforting route in Mona's path, bc let's be honest. That girl is too proud to show even a little bit of weakness or vulnerability, but this should do as well.

Oh, also: FINALLY A REQUEST FOR MONA I LOVE HER SO MUCH I- SOJDVNIJSDVNSIDVNSIDJVNIJSDNV

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

Even though Furina had promised herself not to hide behind a facade any longer, there were times she instinctively fell back on her old habits, the 500 year old autopilot that made it possible for her to keep her secret for so long not disappearing overnight. So when she finally closed the doors to her apartment, only to immediately turn around, lean onto them and let gravity do its job until she had slid down to a sitting position, Furina finally closed her eyes before letting out a heavy sigh she had held back for far too long.

“That was a big one. Want to talk about it?” Your voice suddenly rang out, causing her eyes to snap open and quickly land on your silhouette in the hallway as she struggled to leap back up, embarrassment flaming up in her as she tried her best to play it off as if nothing happened, only for her to end up leaning awkwardly against the door.

“Want to talk about what?” Furina shot back immediately, only to silently cringe at the way her words came out, putting on a smile as she slowly took off her shoes and coat and made her way over to the living room, being closely followed by you.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s also fine. Can I take your hand for a bit?” You eventually stated with an understanding smile, grabbing her head once she gave you a nod and starting to massage it by pressing your thumbs against different spots.

It wasn’t like Furina didn’t want to tell you… actually getting her complaints off her chest probably wouldn’t feel so bad. There was nothing stopping her except old habits and the fear something bad might happen once she opened up, that she inherited from her “former life” as Fontaine’s Archon.

“ No, I want to. But I’ll warn you. It might be a long and ultimately boring tale, so are you sure you want to list–” Furina interrupted her melancholic monologue when you pressed against a particular point on her hand, causing her to suddenly yelp in pain as you briefly stopped and looked up at her once again, your face asking her if you should stop. Just like with her opening up, your hand-massage was painful, yet also felt… pleasant and before long she signaled you to continue before reopening her mouth. “–so are you sure you want to listen to it?”

Without a moment of hesitation you responded, giving her a determined nod as you continued to carefully massage the same spot until stopped being painful, showing Furina one last encouraging smile until her complaints and worries started to pour out of her mouth. The former Archon talking until she felt the corners of her mouth dry up, with you intently listening to each and every one of her words.

…Maybe being more open every once in a while didn’t feel too bad.

Mona

Being an Astrologer was what Mona had always dreamed of being, so when it came to it, she wasn’t scared of pouring every single second of her free time into her work, even when chances were her research would reach a dead-end. Because even with fate ordaining everything that ever happened or still lied in the future, there was no way of knowing how things were going to turn out without at least giving them a shot.

So having her the last couple of weeks worth of work turned out to be for nothing when it became clear it wasn’t going anywhere was nothing Mona was unfamiliar with. It was simply a part of her job after all… but even though the great Astrologer Mona Megistus would never admit to being bothered by setbacks, you knew her better than to fall for her unaffected facade.

“Do you have ingredients at home?” You suddenly asked in the middle of your walk, immediately gaining Mona’s attention as she quickly got lost in thought, trying to remember what food she had used up and what still remained, only to eventually give up and shrug her shoulders, letting out a small sigh as she straightened her hat.

“There might still be some left. I can’t say for sure though, keeping stock of my supplies wasn’t exactly something I kept in mind these last few days,” she admitted only for you to quickly whip around your head, a smile adorning your lips as you came up with a suggestion.

“Let’s go out and eat something! That’s something we didn’t do in quite a while.” Considering Mona’s thoughtful look and how she paused in her tracks for a few seconds, it was fair to say that she wasn’t completely against your proposal, even if you were sure it would still require a lot of convincing to get her to finally agree.

“I’m not sure. Going out to eat when you could just as well buy ingredients and cook something is a waste of money isn’t it?” She hesitantly responded, still pondering as her fingers continued to scratch her chin. Truth be told. You couldn’t agree with her more. You had recently spent a lot of your money on things that in hindsight didn’t exactly prove to be the wisest investments, but even so, you felt as if it was your duty to get Mona to eat something tasty today, even if it meant eating nothing but bread and butter for a few days.

You knew Mona better than to not notice how demoralized she seemed the last few days, her sudden mood change and her increase in free time coinciding too well for it to mean anything except her latest research turning out to be for naught. Of course you knew better than to confront her directly about it… something that would only lead to Mona getting defensive as she’d deny feeling down about anything, too proud and stubborn to open up. And so, the only option left was for you to do what you did best.

“I know… But you’ve been so busy these last few weeks so I couldn’t see you all that much and... I’ve missed you,” you explained while trying your best impression of a puppy, “So can we please go out today?” When you saw Mona’s face heat up slightly as she quickly glanced around the two of you, looking if there was anyone in earshot, you knew your plan turned out to be a success, having to do your best to stop your lips from curling up into a smile when she let out a yet another deep sigh. 

“Fine, but stop saying embarrassing things. We’re in public.”

[shakespearean-dream]

i would adore ur ted ideas he is so interesting 2 me!!!!!!

ask and you shall receive!!!!

ted. teddigan. theodoreigan my boy. i have so many mixed feelings about u💔

this drawing was a pain in the ASS to make for some reason?? my first go at him was way too close to canon for my liking so i threw myself out there n got to a place i liked thankfully, plus halfway through i forgot how to draw hands and almost cried (joking) cause i thought i had them down at this point!!!!— but trust me, even if you have 9 years of art experience (like me unfortunately. someone take me out i’ve had a good life) ur gonna forget the basics sometimes. warm yourself up and try again cause i did and i eventually remembered 😭😭😭

doing these character studies and drawings have seriously improved my way and process of drawing faces which is so nice 🥲 i think i just need to start looking at the bigger picture again so i don’t forget how to draw everything else. like hands. or full bodies. foreshadowing ;)

i wanted my ted to look just a wee bit unsettling because my general consensus of him is that he is totally fucked in the head, lmfao. born a nepotism baby who ended up scamming people more for fun than for actual cash, horribly sexist but dependent on women to validate him, paranoid as all get out, selfish and self centered as all get out, just his canon personality’s all in one and turned up a notch. 🥲

i don’t think he’s totally beyond redemption, especially because he’s been cooped up with ellen, who is a highly decorated in the engineering field black woman, benny who’s gay and gorr “FREEDOM FIGHTIN’ LIBERAL🇺🇸🦅🦅🔥🔥” ister for 109 years. in that time he’s definitely slipped up and they’ve definitely corrected him (along with nimdok too LOL). i think with some intensive therapy, a shower and a trip to the tolerance museum (south park reference) he’ll be a little better.

i’m a mild ted/AM shipper (as seen in the bottom right hand corner) but more in the “ooohehheh they’re flirting!!… oh no. oh this is not going to end well. this is definitely a toxic relationship” way and less the “awh cute maybe they can have mutual redemption arcs!!!” way because i love seeing gay men suffer romantically (don’t cancel me i am a bisexual man suffering romantically i swear😭)

i’m not too partial to any other ships honestly, ted/ellen makes me nauseous (just cause of the way ted talks about/treats her in the franchise, no hate to my tellen shippers i promise) and i can only see gorrister with his wife 🥲 with benny and nimdok i have no clue if either of them rlly have romantic interests but im not a fan of them with anybody so erm… i do love the whole groups found family vibes though :”””] they’re all cute together and the mutual suffering but all the while growth is comforting to me

i think that’s about all my thoughts!!! another thank you for the support on this blog recently i love yall sm. i’ll eventually post on my transformers blog but i am STILL SCARED because robots are hard to draw. stay tuned for it though. 💀

thank you for reading if you did!!! let me know which of the guys yall want me to do next; benny, AM and nimdok are left on the chopping block. ❤️

[blue-jisungs]

medicine

a/n. i promised myself to focus on the events and only post them but since i’m in a good mood today, here’s a small self indulgent thing i wrote yesterday at 3am :^)

warnings. reader is sick, a bit of language barrier + messily written n not proof read (i’ll regret that later)

it came off extremely weird to chan that suddenly you called him to inform about your business trip. “i’ll be gone for five days, maybe a week… sorry i’m letting you know just now but i found out like, an hour ago” was what you said two days ago, throwing a little ‘i love you’ and hanging up.

besides that you didn’t even go and see him to say goodbye before you left. he would lie if he said he wasn’t offended but, maybe it was urgent… besides, he’ll get lots of kisses once you’re back, right?

wanting to surprise you and help you a bit, chan decided to go and clean up your place. if you left in a rush, there was probably a mess. huge mess, knowing you. he also missed you so he thought while he’s at it, he’ll steal a hoodie or two of yours. just so smell your scent…

but was be surprised when he walked into your place, keys in his hand, a cough echoing from your bedroom. chan frowned, closing the door and walked towards the source of the noise.

and his heart skipped a beat, shock washing over him. you were curled up on your bed, laying under two blankets and warm pair of socks on your feet. painful cough ripping from your throat as you tried to reach for the glass with water.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who walked into your place without you knowing. when you turned around, his heart clenched.

glossy and puffy eyes, nose all red due to constant blowing and pressing tissues, flushed cheeks and tear stains adorning them.

you mumbled something incoherent, plopping down onto your bed again. chan hurriedly walked over tho you, putting his hand on your forehead.

“oh my god, you’re burning up! did you take some medicine? how long have you been sick?” he asked, grabbing your hand with his free one. you sniff, looking away in embarrassment. but chan isn’t having any of it, stern yet concerned look on his face “y/n.”

you sigh and try to sit. chan helps you, placing a pillow behind your back before you rest it against the headboard. he sits down at the edge of the bed, both hands grabbing yours and ebony eyes looking at you in anticipation.

“well, there’s no business trip. i got sick and–“ you cough, covering your mouth with your elbow. chan sighs, looking at all the tissues laying in the floor. once the attack stops, you groan “i didn’t want you to get sick too… and other reasons”

the last part is mumbled so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it. but he did, which resulted in him frowning.

“is it about me seeing you like this? y/n, we’ve been dating for three years now… it is weird i haven’t you sick before but trust me, i lived with seven other guys for the last few years of my life. i’ve seen a lot” he giggled, a smile tugging at your lips too

“well this too but also…” you trail off, this time he didn’t understand a word you said.

“what?” chan huffed, squeezing your hand encouragingly. you sigh and look down.

“well… i didn’t understand the meds descriptions and i was too scared i’ll mix them up” you murmured, cheeks turning even more read. even though you’ve been living in korea for three years, the medical language still leaves you clueless.

“oh baby” chan grunted, hands moving to cup your cheeks “you should have called me”

“i know i just… didn’t want to bother you. and then i was too exhausted to look it up, my eyes watering after mere seconds of looking at my phone. i thought it would go away eventually…” you explained quietly, finally looking at him.

and his features are nothing but soft. as much as chan would love to gush about how cute you are, he knows he has a task ahead.

so he gathered all the medicine available in your house, quickly making you some hot soup and warm water with honey to ease your throat pain.

once you’ve eaten and took a quick nap, chan is sitting next to you and explaining slowly each medication and what is it for. occasionally looking up at you with loving eyes, he makes a mental note to write it all down later and put it in the medicine container.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

[fluentmoviequoter]

Christmas on the Clock

Day 12 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Summary: Deacon gets called into work on Christmas Eve, and you (his neighbor) watch his kids until he gets back with a special Christmas gift.

Warnings: fluff, canon typical danger and action, Annie's fate is up to you (I personally imagined the story as if she hadn't recovered in season 1 but I think divorce would work too)

Word Count: 3k+ words

A/N: I cannot believe it's the end of the 12 fics already! I hope you've enjoyed them and thank you for reading!! I've tried my hand at a few new characters this month and appreciate the feedback and encouragement more than you know. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

(PS check out this post if you'd like to participate the in the unofficial after party!)

Matthew, Lila, and Samuel are Deacon’s pride and joy… and some of the cutest kids you’ve ever seen. As Christmas grows nearer, you’ve seen more of them around Deacon’s house, and they never fail to put a smile on your face. Deacon moved in next door to you a few years ago after some familial issues that you never pried about. Deacon has his kids with him most of the time, is a good dad and neighbor, and is certainly not hard to look at, so you have no complaints. Being so close puts you in the perfect position to offer to watch his kids if he ever had to leave suddenly, an occurrence which isn’t unusual in his line of work. It took some persuading, but Deacon eventually took you up on the offer, and you watch the kids occasionally and pick them up from school several times a month. Every time he comes to pick them up or you walk them home, he tries to pay you, not understanding that time in his presence and with his amazing family is the only compensation you will ever need.

As you exit your car, back from a Christmas shopping trip, you hear someone yell your name. Your smile appears when you see Lila racing across your front yard. She crashes against your torso, wrapping her arms tightly around you before tilting her head back to give you a gap-toothed smile.

“Hey, Lila,” you greet, happily returning her hug.

“Sorry about that,” Deacon apologizes as he approaches.

You shake your head at him and smile, a hand still resting on Lila’s back.

“What did you buy?” Lila asks, looking at the bags in your car.

“Just some boring Christmas stuff, nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Any toys, like trucks?” Matthew asks, appearing beside Deacon.

“Or Nerf guns?” Samuel adds.

“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to think. “I think there might be, but I can’t remember. I know I bought a turkey, and some new ornaments, some mistletoe… and, yes, I remember, I bought a few toys. But they have to be wrapped first, right?”

Deacon’s eyebrows raise at the word ‘mistletoe.' Though you notice, you keep your eyes on his kids to minimize the heat crawling up your neck at his attention.

“We should let you get back to that wrapping then. Right, kids?” Deacon interjects.

You nod at him, giving Lila one more hug before waving them off with wishes of a Merry Christmas and promising to bring them treats if you bake anything.

Looking over his shoulder, Deacon mouths, “Thank you.”

You smile, responding with a silent, “Anytime."

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon’s phone ringing tears his attention away from his Christmas dance with Lila. He groans when he sees Hondo’s name on his phone.

“Sergeant Kay,” he answers, apologizing to Lila with furrowed brows.

“I’m so sorry to do this on Christmas, I know you’re with the kids, but we need you down here. Now,” Hondo explains. “There’s a hostage situation with kids in a mall.”

Looking at his own kids, Deacon nods. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and grabs his keys. “I have to go to work for a little bit.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Matthew says, setting his homemade Christmas ornament aside.

“I know, buddy. But I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” he asks, kneeling and brushing Matthew’s hair aside.

Matthew nods, and Samuel hugs Deacon.

“What about us?” Lila inquires.

“I’m going to ask you favorite neighbor to keep you company.”

Lila perks up at the idea of you coming over to spend time with her, if only slightly. Her dad is leaving on Christmas Eve, after all, and she’s distantly aware of the fact that he may not come home for Christmas or at all. That’s a lot for a little girl to think about so close to the happiest day of the year.

“Can we finish Rudolph when you get home?” Samuel asks.

“Absolutely. We’ll make hot chocolate, and we can all sit together to finish Rudolph,” Deacon assures. “It is Christmas.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You answer the phone after the second ring, slightly breathless from hanging garland.

“Hey,” Deacon greets. “I know it’s Christmas Eve but I just got called in and-“

You cut him off and say, “I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out.

You hang up and grab the small bag you keep in your closet for times like this. After the first emergency call, you’d had to take the kids to your house while you gathered some things, unsure how long you’d be with them. Since then, you’ve narrowed it down to a few must-haves that fit in a small backpack. You’re always ready to run when Deacon calls.

Lila is standing in the doorway when you walk onto Deacon’s porch.

“Daddy has to go to work but he said he’ll be back to watch Rudolph with us,” she states.

You lock eyes with Deacon over her head and see his sadness and disappointment.

“Of course, he will,” you agree.

“Sometimes his work takes longer than he thinks. Christmas is tomorrow.”

You set your bag beside the door and kneel, eye-to-eye with Lila as you say, “But we have Christmas magic this time, right? Your dad will be home for Christmas, even if I have to go get him with my own sleigh.”

Lila smiles and grabs your hand, turning to hug Deacon before he leaves. She hears her brothers trying to pick a board game to play with you and releases both you and her dad to go help them. Deacon stops beside you, looking between you and his kids.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“It’s not a problem, Deacon. I’m always happy to do it.”

He nods and picks up his keys, but you place a hand on his bicep to stop him in the doorway.

“Be careful,” you whisper as he leaves.

He nods and smiles, his hand rising to rest over yours. “Always. Merry Christmas.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“There’s at least 50 hostages. A mall Santa, couple kids, parents, plus the few employees still there,” Hondo explains.

“I thought all stores closed early on Christmas Eve,” Street grumbles.

“Welcome to the age of greed and capitalism,” Luca states. When everyone turns to look at him, he asks, “A little too much like Buck, wasn’t it?”

Hondo shrugs and answers, “Stay liquid.”

When Black Betty reaches the side of the mall, Hondo and Deacon approach the first responders and check the thermal imaging they had captured to attempt a headcount.

“I’m getting everyone home for Christmas, but we’re breaching early,” Hondo announces.

His promise means something, even if it’s an impossible guarantee. Getting home for Christmas is the only thing on everyone’s mind.

“The hostages are gathered in the center of the mall, where Santa’s village is set up. We breach the south entry, come from the west and get our suspects down,” Hondo continues.

“Flashbang?” Luca asks.

Hondo gives an affirmative while Deacon looks at the layout.

“Hondo, I agree with approaching for the west, but I have an idea,” Deacon says.

“Let’s hear it.”

“What if we walk in the front door? It should be unlocked, they won’t expect it, and it’s far enough to the west they won’t see us or hear us.”

Hondo looks at the thermal blueprint and nods. “Change of plans. Enter west, travel east, flashbang and get our suspects on the ground before Santa can say ‘Ho, ho, ho’! Everyone clear?”

“Yes, sir!” 20 David agrees.

As they approach the main entry, the automatic doors slide open, not a sound from within audible. Hondo nods at Deacon before Street sends a tap from the back, signaling that the team is ready for entry. Deacon takes a deep breath and remembers his promise, home for Rudolph.

✯✯✯✯✯

The sun sets as you finish playing Candy Land with Lila and Matthew. Samuel has opted to be on a team with you, coloring until you ask for his help. As the night grows darker, Lila’s eyes keep going to the front door, waiting for her dad to return.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie?” you ask.

“We’re waiting to finish Rudolph with Dad,” Matthew answers.

“I see,” you reply with a nod. “Then what about a book? I have lots of Christmas books at my house.”

“Like what?” Samuel asks.

“Let’s see… How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Eloise at Christmastime, Frosty the Snowman, Olive the Other Reindeer.”

“Who’s Eloise?” Lila interjects.

“She’s a little girl, a lot like you actually, who spends Christmas in a grand hotel with her nanny, her turtle, her dog, and a lot of friends.”

“I like the Grinch,” Matthew adds.

“Maybe we could read both?” you offer.

The kids nod before yawning, and your heart sinks a little (but doesn’t shrink; you’re not to Grinch levels of despair just yet) as you realize Deacon won’t be home before they fall asleep. He always lets you know when he’s out of harm’s way and when he’s on the way home, but you haven’t gotten either of those texts yet. Matthew, Lila, and Samuel promise to stay where they are while you run across Deacon’s lawn and into your house, gathering the bag of gifts, a case of baking supplies, and the stack of Christmas books before returning.

“You look like Santa,” Samuel says, laughing as he points at the big bag tossed over your shoulder.

“It is Christmas,” you reply, smiling as Lila and Matthew join the laughter.

✯✯✯✯✯

No one expected the suspects to be patrolling the entrances, so when Hondo sees the first, 20 David falls back into a store to regroup.

“We’re flashbang-ing anyway, why not go early?” Luca poses.

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Hondo sighs.

“What if Street and I go around to the other side and we get ‘em from both sides?” Deacon suggests.

“That’s a better idea,” Hondo says. “Sorry, Luca. Radio when you’re in position.”

As Deacon and Street move silently through the empty, dark hallways of the mall, passing a toy store, Deacon thinks about all the presents his kids will be getting tomorrow and how they’ve never asked for more than they needed. He misses them, so he needs to stay focused and get the job done to go home to you and the kids. When he envisions getting home, it never involves you leaving to go back to your place next door. Thinking of home, you’re always there, and Deacon finally realizes why.

✯✯✯✯✯

“The end,” you finish quietly, closing the fourth finished book as the Kay children rest peacefully in their dad’s bed.

It was the only spot where they could all lie down to listen to the stories, so you hadn’t argued. Besides, Deacon could carry them to bed if he needed to. You’ve grown worried for him, checking your phone every few minutes to see if he’s provided an update. Closing the door gently behind you, you enter the kitchen and begin baking. Quiet Christmas music fills Deacon’s kitchen and living room as you arrange your gifts to the Kays beneath their tree and place cookie dough on a baking sheet. Your phone vibrates, and you practically dive for it, praying for a Christmas miracle.

✯✯✯✯✯

 Street and Luca coordinate their flashbangs so both sides of the crowd are disoriented. Screams and threats tangle with each other in the smoke, but Tan, Chris, and Deacon get the three suspects to the ground and remove their weapons quickly. Deacon sees the children in Santa’s village as he hauls the handcuffed man to his feet.

“What kind of a monster does this on Christmas Eve?” he grumbles.

“It’s just another day, man,” the criminal in his hold argues.

“No, it’s not. Especially not to them,” Deacon snaps, gesturing toward the terrified children clinging to their parents.

As he passes the man off to another officer to be transported to his home for the holidays, county jail, a small hand tugs on Deacon’s pants. He looks toward the hand, surprised to see a girl not much younger than Lila looking up at him with wide eyes.

He bends his knees, squatting in before her as he removes his helmet. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi. Thank you for saving us,” she says quietly.

“Not a problem, it’s actually my job.”

“Like a superhero?”

“Sort of like a superhero.”

“I asked for a superhero costume for Christmas.”

Deacon looks over at the young couple watching the girl and nods at them. They return it, expressing their gratitude with hands joined over their hearts.

“Well, after seeing how brave you were today, I’m sure you’ll get one.”

“Merry Christmas,” the girl says before running to her parents.

“Merry Christmas,” he calls, standing.

“Get out of here, you have your own kids to wish merry Christmases to,” Hondo demands, slapping Deacon’s shoulder.

“Thanks. Merry Christmas, guys!” he tells his team, rushing outside to get home.

If he’s lucky, he’ll make it before midnight.

✯✯✯✯✯

The phone vibration was just a random notification. You’ve made two batches of cookies, rearranged the gifts, and paced the living room twelve times since then, waiting to hear something.

“I need to calm down,” you tell yourself, returning to the kitchen to frost some cookies.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon turns into his driveway, smiling when he sees you turned all his Christmas lights on. He's unsure whether or not it was because of his children nagging you. Grabbing a gift bag from the passenger seat, Deacon exits his car and walks into his house, met by Christmas music, the smell of cookies, and the sight of you in his kitchen. He decides that you fit perfectly, even if he’s not sure where.

You’re humming along to the music playing from your phone, oblivious to his entry. A gift bag lands on the counter before a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

You turn quickly, your eyes wide until you see the big brown eyes you’ve grown to love.

“You scared me,” you accuse quietly, setting the piping bag of icing to the side.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t look or sound very sorry, but his arms are still around you, so don't care.

“I brought you something,” he says after looking at you for a moment.

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

He looks pointedly at the pile of gifts under the tree that was not there when he left.

“Most of those are for Lila, Matthew, and Samuel,” you point out.

“Well then we’ll be even,” he says, passing you the bag.

You tear your eyes away from his as you pull a small snow globe from the bag. Inside is a replica of the park down the street.

“The place we met?” you ask, your voice low.

Deacon smiles. “It’s got a lot of good memories. There’s more.”

You carefully set the snow globe aside, looking at it until you feel the card in the bag. Deacon takes the empty bag, his arms returning to hold you as you read the note. It’s more of a list of occasions and things he likes about you or is thankful for.

“What is this?” you ask.

“An opening to tell you that I’m falling in love with you,” he whispers.

“Are you sure?”

His eyes widen as his smile grows. “This isn’t a spur of the moment decision; I ordered that snow globe a few weeks ago because I finally realized and am ready to admit it. It’s time to move on, and I want to do that with you. Only if you want that, too, of course.”

You turn away from him, feeling his grip on your waist falter as you set the card down. Turning back, you lean into his arms and wrap your arms around him.

“I want to be with you every day for the rest of my life, Deacon. I’m falling in love with you,” you whisper in his ear.

You pull back to say more, but his lips meet yours, and the words die on your tongue. You can show him instead, you suppose. He kisses you, and it feels like home. Everything that Christmas is supposed to be is in Deacon’s kiss, his hold on you, how you feel like you’re home in his arms. It’s perfect, and you want it to last forever, but no good things do.

Your phone timer buzzes, and you reluctantly pull away to turn it off. As you lean back in for more, Deacon chuckles.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“The other batch of frosting is ready to be used.”

He looks over at the cookies cooling by the oven. The human shapes represent his family: he is the bigger one, Samuel and Matthew are shorter, and Lila has a built-in skirt shape.

“Where’s your cookie?” he asks.

“I might have eaten it.”

He laughs again, and you press your face against his neck.

“I needed to make sure they turned out okay,” you argue halfheartedly, losing yourself in the feeling of his hands on your back.

"That's where the mistletoe went," he muses as he looks up.

"Couldn't leave it at my empty place," you point out.

"No, that wouldn't do," he agrees playfully before kissing you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Christmas morning, as Lila, Matthew, and Samuel open their gifts with both you and their dad, they are happier than Whoville after Christmas is returned. Deacon tells you several times that you bought them too much stuff, and you disagree every time.

He leans in to give you another kiss as gratitude for his gifts. Lila sees and giggles, and you send her a quick wink, smiling as she walks to you, hugging you and thanking you for the great gifts. After all the presents have been opened, Deacon ends up at the bottom of a dogpile while Rudolph plays on the television screen. You’re tucked beside him, like part of the family, and he realizes where exactly you fit: in his house, life, and his arms.

You are the luckiest recipient of all the perfect gifts unwrapped because you got a happily ever after wrapped in an LAPD SWAT uniform.

[suniix]

i love you | yuta x reader

synopsis | yuta tells you he loves you for the first time before he leaves

word count | 526

note | sorry for being dead. got discouraged from posting bc my stuff won’t show up in tags if i have any links 💀 idk if im shadow banned (how does one tell?🙃) or maybe tumblr is just being dumb.. anyways i kinda gave up at the end idk if you can tell

“I love you.”

His words of affection broke the peaceful air. The trees stopped rustling and the cicadas stopped their summer song. It seemed as though even the world became quiet to listen to his confession.

You could only stare in surprise. When Yuta had asked you to hang out one final time before he left for training you were expecting a sad talk about his journey to becoming a jujutsu sorcerer, not a confession.

The world grew impatient at your lack of response. A gentle breeze started up again, a little fiercer than before, and Yuta’s freshly cut hair moved along with it. You remember the day Maki told you about Yuta getting his haircut. You nearly dropped to your knees in the middle of practice at the news.

This is it! You thought. He’ll come in with an ugly haircut and I’ll finally get over him!

What you weren’t expecting was him to look even better with his new haircut. You didn’t know whether to cry out in joy or pain. Maki could only roll her eyes at your exaggerated response while Panda and Inumaki snickered on the sidelines.

After that day Yuta seemed to carry himself differently. He stood straight and no longer mumbled when talking to others. Yuta’s gentle eyes still remained the same, but now there was a determined look in them. Those same eyes stared deeply into your own, waiting patiently for a response.

You almost forgot you were in the middle of a confession.

You opened your mouth but no sound left it. You wanted to respond, you truly did, but you were scared. Curse Yuta, why did he have to drop something that big before he left. If you hadn’t known this information his departure would have hurt less. You would have eventually gotten over your feelings and moved on, maybe. Now you’ll be forced to live without him, imagining what could have been if you had taken the risk and said something earlier.

Yuta noticed your hesitation to speak and gently grabbed your hands with his. You failed to notice the shake of his hands, focusing more on how cold they were. Was it always this cold during the summer?

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?”

Alright? How could you be alright? The moment you find out your love is reciprocated he has to leave. Your heart ached, already missing him despite him being right in front of you. It felt as though he was miles away from your reach.

“Please don’t leave.” You whispered, afraid if you said it any louder your heart would be forced to accept reality and the tears building up in your eyes would spill.

Yuta gripped your hands tighter. “I’m sorry, but I have to.” He let go of your hand and cupped your cheek. You allowed yourself to accept the affection, nuzzling into his hand. His hands were warmer now.

“I promise I’ll come back, stronger than before, and when I do, I will still love you the same.” He whispered, placing his forehead on yours.

That night your love left, taking your heart with him with the promise of returning.

thank you for reading till the end! :D

[ceebit]

birthday aches ✦ j. hong

note : happy birthday ?? to my bestie ?? crying crying crying ok. hope he stuffed himself full with cake and rests well :’) idk what else to say that isn’t me just crying so here’s a birthday post for my beloved. <3

wc : 1.7k. fluff. emotional ? tears definitely. ok. [cries]

“do i have something on my face?”

he blinks slowly, dazed look sharpening to something much more focused, and allows himself to be subject to the laughter that crackles through the speakers of his phone. you’re squinting at him teasingly like you always do, brows drawn downwards in disbelief.

“am i no longer allowed to admire artwork anymore?” his voice drawls out lazily, stretching out before snuggling further into his blanket. you roll your eyes like he knew you would, but he knows there’s a smile hidden underneath the bundle of your scarf.

it’s hard, sometimes—being away from you for so long, especially during the holidays. with concerts and fan signs and so many little things to complete before the year is over, he hardly has time to catch up with you and the life that you live. (that doesn’t include him, he oftens thinks bitterly, and resigns himself to feeling low until one of the guys eventually drag him out and about.)

he loves his dream. loves being on stage, loves being surrounded by people who love him and his members for the career he chose but he wishes you were here with him every step of the way. he supposes it’s karma, you falling in love with the people’s person. a humbling experience to remind him what he’s chosen to do.

support is never wavering with you, though. no matter what city you’re in or the difference in time zones, you’ve never missed a single good luck message before a performance or a call to soothe his fear and anxieties of underperforming. you’ve become his forever constant, from that fateful mix up in his schedule to years up the ladder of success, and he’s grateful for you in ways he can’t even begin to describe.

he just, you know. wishes you could have been by his side for all of it. 

he zones back in to gentle calls of his name, offering a tired smile to the questioning look you send him. “the concert was a bit exhausting,” he explains. “i don’t think my body has quite yet… come down from the high, if that makes sense?”

you hum in both understanding and sympathy, and he knows that if you were here, he’d be squeezed into your arms and rocked side to side for a bit. 

“i’m just glad you have some time to relax for your birthday,” you grin, your sincerity seeping through the screen. “you deserve the rest, shua. i hate seeing you so tired all the time.”

i haven’t slept well since the last time i touched you, he wants to say. i sleep better knowing i’ll turn you’ll still be there. i haven’t felt the texture of your skin in months and it’s driving me up the wall but he smiles and nods and promises to try for you.

“is it cold where you are? i hope you’re staying warm.” 

you read between the lines as always, glancing back at the screen to offer a smile. “is this the part where i say ‘i only feel warm with you’?”

“whatever makes you happiest, dear.” and you laugh and it soothes the ache just a little bit.

he wants to talk about your travels. the sights you’ve seen, the people you’ve met, and the things you’ve done. but all thoughts of uttering a single word considering your worldwide trek comes to a halt when you look up yet again, and he can’t help but blurt, “are you busy? you know it doesn’t matter if you call today. i know it’s a lot of—”

“don’t be silly, you know i’ll always make time for you.” your frown is almost offended, and he burrows himself deeper into the covers under your stare. “busy or not, you’re important to me!”

he nods. understood. his heart kicks its feet giddily.

“i’m just. hoping i don’t be late to this thing i’m rushing to. it’s kind of time sensitive?” you huff in annoyance, cold air fogging around your face. “it’s really important to me.”

“and you want me to stay on the phone with you?” you nod and his chest warms significantly. “just say you’re in love with me or something.”

“i’m in love with you,” you reply simply, shaking your head soon after when he calls you a sap.

you chat aimlessly for a bit longer, filling the distance with your mindless thoughts on topics he threw at you and in turn, asking him about his hopes for the new year. it’s the same each and every year—to spend more time with you—and he knows you just like to hear him say it, but it rings a bit of a sad truth.

he wants to settle down with you. wants to do mundane things like bicker over losing socks in the laundry and grocery shop with you in the afternoon and spoon feed you soup when you don’t feel your best. he wants it with enough passion to self combust, after years of getting by with glimpses of you. he can’t stand the distance, but beggars can’t be choosers.

it sours his mood, and like always, you notice.

“shua.” his hum is faint, lingering in the air. “can you go to your front door? i think my present should have arrived by now?”

“you got me a gift?” his gaze darts to the door, squinting as if he could see through it if he tried hard enough. you stifle a laugh. “what is it?”

“open your door and find out, genius.”

slowly, he patters out of the living room and towards the main hallway, phone in hand at your request to see his reaction. he sees you bite your lip in anticipation and his heart thunders.

“will i like it?” he’s nervous but he doesn’t know why. “what am i talking about? of course i’ll like it, it’s from you.”

“sweet talker,” you tease, “but you’re stalling. i don’t want porch pirates to steal it!”

“i live in an apartment?”

“don’t be a smartass.” you’ve lost the bite to your words, though. you’re grinning openingly, excitement highlighting your features, and he wonders just what you might have waiting for him behind the door.

it could have been anything, really. he was expecting an actual present from the way you urged him on. not… one of his friends dressed head to toe in red.

“took you long enough,” jeonghan gripes, and rolls his eyes in faux annoyance when you laugh. “hello to you, too.”

“hi, hannie,” you greet sweetly, offering a smile when joshua looks down at his screen in confusion. “your present isn’t our dear friend’s presence, though.”

“how unfortunate for you,” the latter sniffs. “i’m a fucking delight to have around. your loss.”

“hannie’s gonna blindfold and lead you somewhere, okay? it’s all safe, promise.”

“can’t guarantee he won’t be a bit bruised,” jeonghan pipes up as he produces a white blindfold, grinning cheekily as joshua glances at him wearily. “i’m joking. yn, tell him i’m joking.”

“if i come back and i see a hair on his head misplaced, you won’t like it.” 

“yeah, whatever.”

jeonghan leads him down what seems to be a hallway, the lights on the ceiling faintly visible through the fabric, and then he hears the telltale sound of the elevator reaching his floor. he’s quickly ushered inside, gripping his hand for dear life when it begins to descend.

“you still there?” you ask gently, phone still gripped in his other. he nods, frowning slightly when jeonghan stifles a snort. “words, sweetheart. you okay?”

“a little tense, but i’m okay.”

“he’s breaking my hand.”

“ignore him,” you try to soothe him, and he cracks a smile when the other lets out a faint hmph. “it’ll be over quickly. in fact, if i’m timing this correctly—”

the elevator stalls, another faint ding signaling their arrival.

“—you should be here soon, too.”

here? weren’t you out of the country? he wants to ask what you could possibly mean by that when you’re definitely thousands of miles away from him—but he hears the doors slide open and the sound of you hanging up the phone abruptly. he startles when he’s tugged out the elevator and stumbles over his feet, steadied only when he’s stopped suddenly.

hands clap against his shoulders. “wait right here,” he hears his friend say. and without waiting for some semblance of a response, his footsteps fade away.

well. if he died, he knew very well who he’d be haunting.

phone tucked into the pockets of his pajamas, his hands wring nervously, itching to grant himself the gift of sight once more. and why did you suddenly hang up? he hopes you’re okay. anything could happen these days, and he’d be damned if anything happened to you—

a pair of arms circle around his waist. he tenses, skin chilled from the slight press of cold fabric against his white shirt, and holds his breath. silence tears him apart for what seems like hours. then,

“you can take off the blindfold.”

his heart drops sixty feet into the ground, and then soars right back up into the sky.

laughter swarms his ears as he hastily undoes the knot tied sloppily at the back of his head, light swarming back unforgivingly, but he doesn’t care. not when he’s sure he’s just just heard your voice. 

he blinks rapidly, silently begging for his vision to clear. 

“don’t cry,” you laugh, hands moving to cup his face, and now he’s definitely crying, crushing you to his body and burying his face into your neck. how couldn’t he? when it’s been months since he’s last seen you, since he’s last gotten to hold you?

he needs to take the time to memorize the shape of you again. needs to run his hands over the curves and dips, overwhelmed by your sudden presence with the need to touch like a man starved.

“i thought you…” he tries to say, but all the words he’s ever practiced to say to your face fall apart the second the tips of your thumbs brush away stray tears.

“early flight. someone pulled enough strings.”

jeonghan halfheartedly salutes somewhere behind your head, and any and all thoughts of haunting him quickly dissipates. he’ll get him a cheese platter or something. just as soon as he gets used to having you this close once again.

“happy birthday,” you whisper into his embrace. his response is something akin to a sob, embarrassingly so, but you only squeeze him tighter in response.

“missed you.” please don’t leave again. “missed you so much.”

“i’m not going anywhere.” i’m here.

back home ⟡ the archive ⟡ join my taglist ⟡ last post

[dozing-marshmallow]

Hi!! Love the fic that you wrote of reader visiting Chris in prison. Could you write an angsty follow-up of reader finally breaking up with him after he gets out of prison with her being fed up with his unablity to change his negative thoughts and actions.

Ouchhh! Quite angsty, indeed!

HEY EVERYONE! Sorry for my long due absence. I’m currently in the middle of exam season, so that’s been taking up majority of my time, but I can say with certainty that afterwards (in four weeks), I’ll be free to post as frequently as I did before and complete all the requests I received! Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy part 2 of this one shot!

Content warning, this one shot involves dysfunctional relationships, so please read at own risk.

CHRIS MCLEAN IN JAIL PART 2- ANGST

“(Y/NNNNN)!” your sweet separated husband exclaims, fixing his arms around you on his return home,“It’s so great to be back again!”

“H-Hi Chris...” you cough, squeezing him back,“How do you feel?”

“Better!” he chirped, patting your spine,“You know, I actually feel like a changed person!”

“Really?” Yeah right.

He nods, pulling away, that grin of his never ageing,“Yep! I realllyyy feel like a functioning member of society, ready to amend and give back!”

Yeah right.

You never thought you would be in the back kitchen with Chef about this.

Two years after his first release.

That’s right.

With heavy bags and sore limbs, you desperately explain,“I’ve tried to convince him to see a therapist or go to marriage counselling sessions with me, but he doesn’t listen!” you wince down to the ground. That word “marriage” felt more like “Hell” to you,“I feel like he’s getting worse and worse...”

“What can you do, (Y/N)? By law, he’s a grown man. No one, not even his mom can tell him what to do.” Chef Hatchet grunted, slicing some potatoes, as though he was not surprised,“Have you considered divorce?”

Divorce!,“That’s ridiculous, Chef. You know you can’t just file a divorce whenever you want. Marriage is a lifetime commitment and I still see the man I love.”

“And it’s that he’s takin’ advantage of.” That knife went blunter this time around,“He thinks it’s okay to go about like a criminal, because he has the money and popularity to get out of it, but if you walk out on him, he’ll eventually realise what he’s lost. I’m dead serious. You keep sticking by him like this, he’ll never change.”

“Hm...” that was an interesting way of thinking, you’ll admit. Maybe it was time to start looking into divorce? But... “What if that approach just turns out for the worst? You know how he is. He’ll turn the tables and play victim, putting the blame on me for not being strong enough to support him and for breaking my promise for making my love conditional-“

Chef looks at you like the pieces were threatening to cut your fingers off,“Do you even hear yourself as you speak about him?”

You stop. 

Dang it, he had a point,“But divorce... It still feels a bit too drastic. Besides, I want to give him a chance.” you offer a strong smile.

He paused entirely in his vegetable slicing this time,“A chance?”

Oh... Yes, you’ve given him plenty of chances already. You force the smile to stay on, as convincing as you tried,“W-We’ll just see how it goes. Besides, I still really wanna make this work.”

Your husband’s so-called best friend shakes his head, leaving you with a pitiful glimmer in his eye,“You’re a good woman, (Y/N). You don’t deserve this.”

Well, you wish you listened to him sooner.

And at some point, you couldn’t take it anymore.

So one day, when you got your suitcase ready and your temporary accommodation sorted in secret, you mustered the courage to break it off.

Your heart was leaping. From what? Anxiety? Excitement? Both? You’ll never know.

It took a lot to get this far. You were going to see it through the end.

No matter how messy it will be.

Obviously when you gently touched on Chris’ behaviour as the reason why you were filing for divorce, he tried denying it,“What are you talking about? I’m a changed man! Prison’s changed me for the better!”

Oh please,“Unless it’s Opposite Day, you should not be using that word.”

You weren’t afraid and that’s what startled him,"N-Now who gave you the right to declare the end of this relationship?! Only I get to choose whether to throw you out on the street or keep you around!” he then strangely turned his head to lean the smooth skin on his cheekbone in your face,“Now give me a kiss."

You almost puke in your mouth,“I’m serious, Chris. I want nothing to do with you anymore.”

“Serious? What do you know about serious? You don’t understand anything!” he barked, slamming his fist on the table.

Your eyelids remained just halfway down,“I understand plenty.”

“No, you don’t! You don’t understand that this is a really dumb decision! We’ve had so many great memories (Y/N), you and I!” his defensive tone morphs into a tone of love,“I love you so much, more than Total Drama ratings! And you give meaning to my life, more than any show I’ve ever hosted!”

There it is. He says all these words then treats you like a broken clock. You made sure he witnessed your sight tap on the papers you laid out for him.

“You’re totally being dramatic! In the worst way possible! I literally give you the life, not even middle class peasants can dream of, and this is what you do to me!?” he was raising his voice. The sign of desperation,“How do you think I feel? Have some respect!”

Respect, huh? You scoffed, rolling the pen further to him,“Oh I’ve tried to be respectful, Chris. In fact, I would much rather live as a “middle class peasant” than live with you any longer.”

He gasps, before snarling,“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” Chris was too arrogant to get physical with you, and you knew that. The worst he was gonna do is throw petty insults at you.

But he took a scarier approach. He wasn’t fuming or swearing or raving; a smile drew on his lips instead as he sprinkled sugar laced words in your direction.

“Awww. Don’t let your anger speak for you, darling. You know sooner or later, you’re gonna regret ending us like this. And I won’t let that happen. I won’t let you regret losing me. Losing us,” now he has your waist in his arm,“Come on sweetheart, talk to me. I know you just need someone to listen.”

Listen. Is that a fucking joke?

Adoration emitted from his eyes into yours,“We can talk about this. We can talk and exchange forgiveness like we always do. Because we love each other. We’ll come around to see eye to eye and I’ll forgive you for being so annoying.” His other hand begins to comb your hair,“We can forget this ever happened and I’ll even treat you to an awesome date night. I know you really love those, and I would be more than happy to give it to you, as your beloved husband.”

...The thought was tempting.

TAKE YOUR FILTHY HAND OFF ME.

But that was a lot more motivating.

“Nice try. Your empty promises won’t work on me this time.” you push him away. That’s it. You’re strong, you’re strong, you’re strong!,“I don’t need your money. Or your time. I can do fine on my own.”

He stopped running his hand in your hair. Oh, the pride you felt when you watched his bottom lip quiver! You could watch the scene over and over again.

Your instinct to smirk is quickly cowered when Chris shoves you away, thankfully not so forceful to make you lose balance completely as he huffed, that charming persona displaced by his true ugly.

“You want your stupid divorce? Fine!” He angrily scratches the papers with his signature,“There’s your stupid divorce! Now get out of my sight before I change my mind! Only a stupid whore like you would go through with making the awesomest celebrity in the world give up on you! You better not come crawling back after selling your body around for six dollars!”

Wow! Who knew he would resort to sexualising you in such a derogatory way to try get a reaction from you? “No... That’s not true! You know I would never do that! I’m more than just my body!”

“I’ll take the six dollars over you any day.” Hah! Who cares what he had to say? He’s not your husband anymore!

He gritted his teeth as he witnessed you leave his mansion one last time,“You’re ruined, you hear me!? I’ll make sure you lose your job and never find one again!” That’s not true. That’s not true,“I’ll see to it that you live on animal carcasses disposed by yours truly for the rest of your moping days, in conditions more suffocating than maximum prison!”

Such is the behaviour of a scumbag who lost control.

That was the right thing.

Thank Heavens you had your loyal friends and your own ethical job. If any of these things were different, even by a tiny bit, you probably would have still been stuck with Chris McLean. Chained. Trapped. Miserable.

This was the right thing.

You don’t want to think about what could have happened. The important thing was, you got out of it, and he wasn’t your problem anymore. Yet a part of you felt so dissatisfied with how the whole ordeal went. I thought I would feel more different... Why do I still feel something missing? Is this actually the end of our life together?

And your mind, learning from the worst, continued the cycle of torment. Was that really the best way to end things? Why didn’t you leave sooner? Was it really the right choice? Why did you waste so much with him? Were you still in love with him? Is it really too late to start over with love again? Did you really make the worst choice yet by leaving him?

You take a deep breath, and stare back into the eyes of the solitary woman, whose worth was still blinded by the thorns of that demon.

Her brain is pounding from the silence. This might take some getting used to.

You turn the tap on and sigh. For now, you’ll take a nice long shower.

[avida-heidia-5]

Thanks muchly for the tag, @kaossbells! That was quite a challenge! I had to think really long and hard about some of these questions. 😮‍💨🥰😘

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

A measly 5. Yeeeeaaaah…I really need to post more stories more often! 😅 I’m more of an artist these days.

Luckily, I got infected by the writing bug this year thanks to my involvement in the F1 Big Bang fanfic event, so I hope that number will increase significantly this year. 🙏🏻

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

18,354. Again, hoping for more.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly F1. I’m planning on writing more fandoms I have an interest in such as Merlin, Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, and The Legend Of Zelda. Maaaaaybe some Depeche Mode in the near future as well… 🤔

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 

1) Miracles Happen at the Right Place at the Right Time (F1)

2) As Drunk As A Finnish Brown Bear (F1)

3) Deep Tenebrosity (Merlin)

4) For The Sake Of Nature (F1)

5) My Soul Begs For Your Return (F1)

Yep, that’s all of them! 😅

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

For comments in general, oftentimes, I read a fic that’s so god tier that I don’t have any or enough words to express myself. If that happens, I always make sure to leave a comment anyway - descriptive or not - that I hope would make an author’s day. 💖

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Deep Tenebrosity. It’s a bit open-ended and left to interpretation though as it’s an alternative scene of an episode of Merlin I wasn’t satisfied with. I’m definitely thinking of including some more angst for future fics though. It’s my favourite kind of ending compared to happy ones. Not that I hate happy endings. I love them, don’t get me wrong, I just love sad and angsty endings more.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Miracles Happen. It’s definitely the happiest ending I’ve written so far. The rest of my fics have either normal endings or sad ones.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! So far, at least.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

It’s not on AO3 (yet!), but I’m working on sneaking some smut into a few chapters of For The Sake Of Nature. 😏 It’s a long way yet though, so don’t get tooo excited. Shan’t spoil… 🤐

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I’ve never written a crossover before. However, I’m thinking of writing a Depeche Mode/IAMX crossover fic at some point. It’s still in the planning stages, so nothing concrete yet. I need to finish all my other WIPs I have stacked up in my hard drive first before I get too ahead of myself! 😵‍💫💫 You know how it is.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

I would really love to pitch an idea to fanfic websites to put a watermark or a copyright filter on your own fanfics, if it’s even possible. Maybe a certificate of authenticity of some kind? I would happily do that to every single one of my fics to prevent dirty thieves from stealing them. Please, make it happen!!!!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

No, as far as I’m aware.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

No, but I would really love to someday. 🤩

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? 

If it’s F1 RPF, it’s a toss-up between Simi and Martian. But seeing as we’ve just had Simi day, I’ll go for them. They are just the sweetest pairing. 🥰😘

If it’s any other fandom, that’s a bit harder! I’ll say Blackbonnet from the OFMD fandom for now.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

For The Sake Of Nature, definitely! It’s a veeeeeeeery slooooooooooooooow process. I’ll get it done eventually! Promise! 😬🙏🏻

16. What are your writing strengths? 

I love being adventurous in my vocab when it comes to writing. I’ve read so many books and consumed so many dictionaries when I was very young, so that might have something to do with it. You learn a lot from reading books. From knowing how to structure a sentence, to how dialogue is written and where they’re appropriate to use, to certain language and behavioural ticks from characters, to describing unique locations and objects. It’s very fascinating and they help massively with my writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? 

The only thing I struggle with is not so much about the writing side of things, but it’s all about time management. As in making a plan of posting fanfics on certain dates and times and never getting around to doing it because of my usually packed schedule.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

I’m lucky to have friends on Discord and Tumblr who speak in their native tongues to help me out if I ever get stuck. I don’t trust the internet, so I rely on them for language authenticity.

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

Merlin!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? 

Urrrrmmm…I don’t really have one! Though having said that, I enjoyed writing dialogue for Kimi in As Drunk As A Finnish Brown Bear! You can write absolutely anything when you’re writing a drunk Finn! Easiest job in the world! 🤣🤣🤣

I tag @miss-malheur, @msmirrorball21, @formulaes5, @hungriestheidi, @wanderingblindly, and anyone who sees this and wants to participate. Please ignore if you’ve already done this or don’t want to do it, that’s completely fine. 😊

[allbluedepths]

Re: last reblog of “Zoro would have been bored and lonely just like Mihawk if not for Luffy” — what about the opposite? Additionally, I’ve seen more than a couple fanworks with the idea of Shanks asked Mihawk to be his first mate, but Mihawk turned him down, so how about combine the two?

Aka, this is what’s in my WIP folder as what I’ve dubbed the “wings of the emperor” AU. (Read more because this nearly turned into a mini fic, haha!)

Early on after they’ve met, and before Beckman has joined the crew, Shanks wants Mihawk to be his first mate and come explore the world with him. However, Mihawk knows his goal of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman will always come first. And while he enjoys (even if he wouldn’t say so directly, even to himself) his duels with Shanks, he doesn’t have any interest in the actual duties of being a first mate. So, the subject is dropped — but there’s still something nagging at the back of their minds.

(But sometimes, Shanks dreams about what it’d be like to have Mihawk around for more than a few fleeting moments. And even more rarely, but consistently, Mihawk wonders if that ever-growing boredom would recede if chose to see more in the world than just battle. Mihawk can never fully get the image of a very eager and genuine Shanks promising to show him the world if he’d let him. It isn’t enough to convince him… but it’s enough to stick in his mind for a long time.)

Beckman comes into the picture soon enough; Shanks couldn’t ask for a better first mate, and that’s that. Though, Beckman does find out eventually from a (probably drunk) Shanks about what he had offered Mihawk, and while he isn’t surprised by the answer, he doesn’t have the idea of Mihawk being around more. They get along fairly well, actually, balancing Shanks out well as a trio.

(Maybe it’d be worth doing something and getting those two idiots to stop their complicated pining, he thinks.)

Sometime later — think still young-ish Mihawk and Shanks, mid-late 20s and early-mid 20s respectively — Mihawk is offered a position as a Warlord. But Mihawk doesn’t take it, not right away. Because as much as he’s sure he’s not right to be Shanks’ first mate, becoming a warlord would permanently close some doors between them.

Rumors get out that Mihawk has accepted, even though he hasn’t yet, and Shanks is— a lot of mixed emotions, really, when he finds out. Late that night, Beckman tosses out the thought that Mihawk doesn’t have to be first mate to sail with them. Hell, he doesn’t even have to sail with them all the time; he’s around enough anyways, it wouldn’t change much.

…Which is right when the door to the captain’s quarters opens, revealing said swordsman who had come to see Shanks one more time before making a final decision. A decision that goes much more smoothly once Beckman’s words sink in because that’s not a half-bad idea.

What results is this: officially, the World’s Greatest Swordsman turns down the Warlord position, seeing no benefit to his current travels and seclusion on Kuraigana Island to do otherwise.

But word of mouth disagrees: that sometimes, when the Red-Haired Pirates’ ship approaches from the distance, there are not one, but two, silhouettes by the captain’s side.

The truth: While Shanks and Mihawk forever disagree on if Mihawk officially joined the crew, Shanks jokingly-not-jokingly gives him the title of his “left-hand swordsman”, since Beckman is his right-hand man. (This joke gets either much more hilarious or infinitely worse after a certain incident.) Mihawk does spend good stretches of time away and on his own, defending his title and simply enjoying the peace and quiet he certainly doesn’t get onboard. However, Shanks does hold up his promise to show Mihawk the world — including one very particular island in the East Blue.

(I’m cutting myself off here because this got much longer than I expected, haha! I’ll probably make another post about this AU soon with more bits such as some of their adventures, life onboard, Beckman and Mihawk’s dynamic and how it develops over time, etc.)