You left him for two minutes. All of two minutes.
On the rare days off that you and Shoto get to spend together, it’s almost always spent curled together on the couch or in the bed, watching him work out for fun before making him cheat on his diet, anything that lets the day drip by slower than any other day of the week.
You left him to pee. That’s it. Placing the bowl of sour candy down, you slip out from his lap, give him a kiss before moving down the hall like any standard, subconscious person would.
Two. Minutes.
“Shoto, what’re you doing?”
“You like the strawberry flavor the best.”
By the time you come out, he’s got a pile of pink candy, separated by the other colors except for purple, which is in its own little pile. “You don’t like the grape flavor.”
You quirk a brow and walk back over to him, watching as he continues to segregate the candies, “baby, I would’ve been more than happy to just pick around them, you didn’t have to do all of this.”
“But you don’t like them,” he repeats, looking up at you with those doe eyes that you love to get lost in. “You look down every time you reach for one. I thought I might help ease the burden slightly.”
Burden. Your first world problem of not liking sour grape skittles should be the farthest thing from a burden to him.
But to shoto, it’s not one, and it’ll never be one; little acts of services like these aren’t new, small details just to make hour by hour tasks and privilegies just that much easier.
It’s something he’s always done. Something he’s always going to do. Because he loves you.
With a smile, you slink back into his lap, your head nuzzling against his stomach while the tv drones on about whatever he put on while you were gone. You kiss the warmth of his tummy to feel the muscles constrict under the affection, and you bury your hand into the bowl of candy right after.
“Don’t be cheeky.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum. A hand rests on your head, thumb gently rubbing over the warmth of your crown as silence fills the room once again.
Popping a skittle into your mouth, your face quickly grimaces, and he hums in acknowledgement.“Eugh,” you grumble, and he looks down at you, silently asking you what happened.
And you want to lie. Truly! It’s better for everyone if you do, just tell him you bit your tongue and let him think nothing more.
But apparently, you don’t.
“Missed a grape one,” you tease.
“….”
“Sho?”
“Spit it into my hand.”
“Sho, no-“
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For the collective playlist: getaway car by Taylor swift
I remember you once saying that you think that coldflash would constantly break up and get back together towards the start because they’re both terrible at emotions and commitments, so I think this song may work as a ‘len running away from the relationship by joining the waverider’ situation.
Lyrics include “There were sirens in the beat of your heart/ should’ve known I’d be the first to leave/ think about the place where you first met me” but mainly I’m thinking of “I was dying in a getaway car/ said goodbye in a getaway car”….because of obvious reasons
noooo how dare you make me sad with that last part :((( but yes i DO love a messy early years of their relationship where they’re both constantly self-sabotaging and splitting up and getting back together until their friends are like jesus god go to therapy and put us all out of our misery
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