#i might do like. a series of this. and then i could just update the colors
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How Could You? —Chapter 3—
Part of the For Your Own Good Series
Prev Chapter → Next Work
Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader
Rating: General
Warnings: the angst continues! canon rewrite. self-ship coded; please see author's note on series page if you are unfamiliar with plot-significant characteristics of reader.
Word Count: 4.4k
Work Summary: After waking from Itachi's Mangekyo Sharingan attack, Kakashi finds there is still a lot of work to do; in rebuilding the village, restoring trust within his team, and in being honest with you. But will his efforts strengthen those bonds, or will everything only get worse?
AO3 Link
After a few more well-wishes to Naruto for a quick recovery, you made a half-hearted excuse to take your leave. You just didn’t feel like you belonged there. Sakura had left after telling Naruto her intentions to come along in the future, and Lady Tsunade started looking over Naruto’s chart and giving him updates on the others from the mission, while he and Shikamaru told each other highlights of the fights they both endured after being separated. But they were all…smiling. Naruto was describing one of Orochimaru’s henchman—some guy who used his own bones as weapons—and he was smiling. Laughing. Joking.
He had been on the brink of death a few times from the sound of it. But he only smiled and became more resolute. Same with Sakura, and even Shikamaru. It just didn’t seem right. You’d always known that shinobi were essential for the safety of the village, but for these kids to be reacting like this? And then Kakashi’s complete dismissal of you was the cherry on top.
You ended up wandering the village. You didn’t think your father or Ayame would be of any comfort. Neither of them would be able to actually be able to offer any insight, or probably even understand where you were coming from. You tried to see Iruka, but he was out on a mission since the village was still overworked. Most likely, Shikamaru would be given another assignment soon, considering his injuries were minor. Kakashi might have already been sent back out if Shizune had been able to find him.
You were nearing the big tree in the village center when you heard someone shout.
“Y/N!” Gai ran over to you.
“Oh, hello Gai.”
“I just returned from a mission, and I was just about to get some delicious dumplings! Please, come join me! It will be my treat!”
“Oh…I’m not sure I’m such good company right now.”
“Nonsense! You're better company than anyone! Please, I insist.”
And insist, he did. While you knew that Gai would be the absolute last person to ever force you into a situation you weren’t comfortable with, he linked his arm with yours and led you toward the dumpling stand with so much speed, you were tripping over your own feet. But this might be the best option you hadn’t considered. With Iruka’s absence and Kakashi’s evasion, Gai would probably be a uniquely perfect sympathetic ear.
The restaurant wasn’t too crowded when you arrived, and Gai continued herding you until you sat down at a booth in the back corner. The man looked completely in his element, greeting both the waitress and chef by name and placing an intimidatingly large order without even glancing at the menu. You were about to skim through to find something befitting your ruined appetite, but the taijutsu master plucked your menu from your hands and gave it to the waitress without a thought.
“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “Those combination platters I ordered cover every single type they serve here! Today, we feast!”
His enthusiasm was pretty infectious. As heavily as everything was still weighing on your mind, you couldn’t help but smile along with Gai while the waitress came by and gave you each a glass of water and a tea.
“Ah, there’s that springtime smile!” Gai took a full sip of his beverage before slamming it down on the table with his standard level of gusto. “Now, Y/N, tell me. Why would you ever say you aren’t good company?”
“Well,” you started tentatively, using one finger to draw a meaningless pattern in the condensation on your glass and avoiding eye contact. “Kakashi and I kind of had a fight.”
“Ah, Kakashi,” Gai sighed. “Sometimes my rival’s blood runs too hot for his own good.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.” You took a sip of tea to collect your thoughts. It wasn’t easy to summarize everything that had happened, since Gai didn’t even really know the entirety of the mission to recover Sasuke. But you did the best you could, starting with Sasuke leaving in the middle of the night and all the events that happened as a result: the five-man recovery squad, Kakashi running after them, the state of everyone when they finally made it back to the village.
Gai’s order started coming out of the kitchen, but the man didn’t take his attention off you as you got to the immediate issue: Kakashi suddenly turning ice-cold, telling you all those heart-breaking things. You couldn’t maintain eye contact, but the array of dumplings was a great distraction. Turned out, you were hungrier than you realized, the smells of the food making your mouth water as you spoke.
“Eat something,” Gai encouraged you, “please.”
You smiled gratefully and gathered a few different types on your plate. “Thank you, Gai.”
“Anything for my rival’s beautiful and passionate girlfriend,” he beamed and popped a dumpling in his mouth. His face went through a range of emotion; bliss at the flavor of the food, then empathetic as he remembered what you’d been saying. He swallowed the full bite heavily. “I know how Kakashi can be,” he started. “Please, allow me to apologize for his actions!”
You shook your head. “I’m not upset with him; I’m worried about him,” you explained. “He’s blaming himself for what happened with Naruto and Sasuke. He acted like he had just abandoned them, when nothing could be further from the truth.”
“He has always put the full pressure on himself,” Gai agreed, “even when we were children.”
“I just hate how hard it is on everyone.” You ate another dumpling to try and squash the despair rising in your chest, but it wasn’t quite enough. “I saw Naruto before I left the hospital. And he’s just so determined to go back out there after Sasuke as soon as he’s healed. He’s so upset with himself, that he couldn’t get Sasuke to come home. And those other boys who went with him. Shikamaru is upset that his mission failed, and Sakura is a wreck even though she’s trying to hide it. And Kakashi…”
“He lashed out,” Gai nodded solemnly, a knowing look in his eye like he had been in your shoes many times.
“He said I have no idea what it means to be a shinobi, and after seeing those kids, I’m starting to wonder if he’s right.”
Gai sat thoughtfully for a minute, taking a sip of his tea before he stared at you meaningfully. “It’s true that Kakashi is right more often than he’s wrong,” Gai grinned. “But in this case, he’s undeniably mistaken. With your compassion, you have everything it takes to understand what it means to be a shinobi.” His look was just as compassionate as he claimed you to be. “Kakashi will realize that soon. Otherwise, people will start to say that I’m the smart one.”
You laughed despite yourself, finally feeling the weight lift from your heart. “I love him so much. And I don’t know how to help him. He says he wants to be alone and I can understand that but…I don’t want him to think that he really is alone, you know?”
Tears gathered in Gai’s eyes as he beamed a giant smile in your direction. “So beautiful,” he wailed, the tears beginning to fall and soak into the dumplings on his plate. “Kakashi is so lucky to have you, someone who cares so deeply for him and understands him. I truly believe that you are the perfect match for him.” He snatched you into a tight hug and you could feel the river of grateful tears flooding your shoulder.
His outburst distracted the majority of the restaurant, and even though they weren’t particularly busy, you felt heat in your cheeks as you noticed all the attention on you. “Th-thanks Gai,” you stuttered.
Gai leaned off of you, looking slightly chagrined. “I apologize. It just fills my heart with so much happiness to see how passionately you feel for my best friend and eternal rival!”
You couldn’t help but smile at the exuberant shinobi. Even Kakashi’s detached tone as he spoke of his friend couldn’t disguise the effect that Gai had on him or the fondness they had for one another. You had to admit that it moved you.
“Well, I’m just glad he’s had you all this time.”
Fresh tears welled in Gai’s eyes, but he forced them back. “Like I said, I know how Kakashi can be. But that just means I also know why he can be like that. And I have seen so many people give up on him.” He put his hand on your shoulder, absolutely beaming at you. “It makes me very happy that you are different.”
He ate another dumpling and you smiled. “Thanks for bringing me here, Gai. You and I should spend more time together.”
“ABSOLUTELY!” he pulled you into another hug, nearly knocking the wind from your chest as you laughed.
The rest of the meal just continued to lift your spirits, you and Gai sharing easy conversation and funny stories with one another as more and more of the feast of dumplings disappeared. You shouldn’t have been surprised, but Gai attacked the platters with the same level of enthusiasm as he did everything. Before long, you were both reaching your limits (although you suspected he would happily eat twice as much if this were one of his rival contests).
Gai excused himself to take care of the bill, waving away your offer of ryō so quickly you were worried his wrist might snap. As you waited for him to return to the table, you overheard the conversation of two men sitting a few tables down.
“Did you hear?” one asked his friend. “Sasuke Uchiha abandoned the village to join up with Orochimaru. And that kid Naruto nearly died trying to bring him back!”
Your posture stiffened at their topic. The man spoke so casually, it churned the partially-digested dumplings in your stomach.
“Man, I get that they don’t have any parents, but someone oughta take responsibility for them. Don’t they have a sensei or something?” the friend responded.
The guy scoffed. “Hatake?”
“Hmph, that explains it. Cold-Blooded Kakashi strikes again.”
“Ha, he ran out of friends, so now instead of Friend-Killer, I guess he’s Kid-Killer Kakashi!”
“HEY.” The exclamation was out of your throat before you even had a chance to think about it. But you wouldn’t have taken it back even if you had the chance.
The men both looked unimpressed by your interruption. “What?”
“Don’t talk about him like that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Kakashi Hatake. You don’t know him at all. So get his name out of your mouths.”
The men shared an amused look, like they were speaking to a child. “Excuse me?” the first man asked, turning back to you and resting his chin on his palm.
“Kakashi isn’t cold-blooded. He was out of the village on a mission when Orochimaru lured Sasuke out of the village, and Naruto was gone before Kakashi got back. But he didn’t waste a second before going after them, even though he had just been through hell. So how dare you talk about him like that? Just who the hell do you think you are?!”
“Us?” the guy laughed. “Who’re you, Hatake’s cheerleader?”
“I said…get his name out of your disgusting mouth.”
“Hey now, what gives you the right to make assumptions about my mouth?” the man sneered, leaning closer and meeting your challenge. “You haven’t been properly acquainted with it.”
“That’s enough!” Gai bellowed, appearing out of nowhere and diving between you and the man to create a human barrier. “Y/N, you don’t have to listen to this.”
“Now hold on, she and I were having a conversation. I’m just dying to know why someone like her would bother defending that worthless—"
You launched yourself at the man before you even considered the consequences. Thankfully, Gai’s superhuman reflexes caught you before you were able to make any contact and likely hurt only yourself. And even better, you surprised both of the jerks enough that they finally shut up.
Gai set you back on your feet and gave you a quick look to either warn or ask you not to try something like that again. It really shocked you how quickly Gai could switch from carefree to serious without losing a hint of credibility. Quickly coming back to your senses, you folded your hands behind your back and looked at the floor.
“Now,” Gai began, looking back at the men at the table. “Simply apologize to my friend, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Why should I apologize?” the man scoffed. “She’s the one who jumped into our conversation, then got all hysterical. The way I see it, she oughta apologize.”
Like hell I’ll apologize. Gai must have felt the way you bristled behind him, reaching back and placing his hand on your arm to ground you. “Don’t worry about these guys, Y/N. They aren’t worth it. Let’s go.”
He waited to allow you to leave first, keeping himself between you and those assholes in case either side started up again. The men must have realized who they were dealing with and decided to leave well enough alone, keeping quiet. You did offer the workers of the restaurant a genuine apology as you passed them, but they waved it away as though you hadn’t caused a scene. Still, as you made your way back to the center of the village, you felt that one more apology was necessary.
“I’m sorry Gai. I should have controlled myself better back there. I’m not even really sure what came over me.”
“I know exactly what came over you,” he beamed with pride. “All of the hot-blooded feelings you have for Kakashi sent you rushing to his defense, and it was a joy to see. But to ensure your safety, I had to put a stop to it.”
“You were right to.” You smiled and hugged him. “I think I’m going to head home. Get my adrenaline back to normal. I’m not sure how shinobi keep this up all the time,” you laughed.
Gai responded with a loud guffaw and a clap on your back. “Thank you again for your company today!”
This time, you pulled him into the hug. “Thanks for everything.”
⁂
Obito…
Kakashi’s hair hung limp in his face as he stared at the Memorial Stone. His feet were planted in a spot so familiar, he could feel the indents of his sandals in the earth. Proof of how often he had to admit his shortcomings.
“I’m sorry, Obito.” Kakashi spoke evenly and quietly. “I’m no better of a jōnin than I was when I let you down. And now, I’ve let down the last member of your clan.” His breath hitched. “Obito, I let down everyone. I still haven’t learned how to protect my comrades. I’m still…I’m still losing them. I’ve lost my entire team. Again.”
Kakashi’s hands trembled at his sides. “I thought things would be different. I thought I could live up to what you said. I tried…I tried to teach them the same lessons you taught me. The way that Minato-sensei taught us. My students remind me so much of our team. I should have known exactly what they needed. But I failed as a sensei. I wasn’t cut out to teach them. I couldn’t even recognize that Naruto and Sasuke were on the brink of killing each other. I was…”
Naïve. Distracted. In love.
“I was happy, Obito.” The honesty opened a chasm in his chest. “I should have known it couldn’t last. But I didn’t, and it cost those kids everything.”
That. That was the crux of it.
Kakashi had made peace with the fact that you were too good for him, and his time with you would certainly not be endless. He had been prepared to be with you for as long as you wanted him. But it had gotten to the point where he needed to make that call for you. If he had accepted the truth sooner, stopped delaying the inevitable, maybe he could have prevented what happened to his team.
If he had just let you go, been less selfish, put all his focus on his students…this visit to the Memorial Stone could have been completely different.
“RIVAL!”
Not now…
Kakashi turned to see Gai walking up to him with that big, stupid smile he always had. Kakashi aimed his most withering stare at his rival, but Gai chose to take no notice, walking up as though Kakashi had invited him.
“What is it, Gai?”
“I had a feeling I would find you here, Kakashi.”
“…Is there a problem?”
“No, not at all. But I heard what happened. And I just wanted to check on you, see if there was anything I could do to help.”
Unless you know where Orochimaru is—where Sasuke is—what help could you possibly be?
“Also, I ran into Y/N in town.”
Every one of his nerves lit up at your name. “Y/N?”
“She was upset, Kakashi.” Gai softly chastised him. “I know that what you’re going through is horrible. But please, don’t take it out on her.”
I never wanted to, he mentally defended himself. But I had to.
“What’s done is done, Gai,” Kakashi answered. “It’s over between us.”
Gai seemed confused. “You…broke up with her?”
“Well, no,” he admitted. I couldn’t force myself to do it. “But I did pick a fight. And after the way I spoke to her, she would be justified in cursing my name.”
Gai started laughing. Kakashi looked at him with fury in his eye, but Gai held up a hand to beg his friend and rival to show mercy. “I’m sorry Kakashi. I don’t mean to laugh. But actually, it’s quite the opposite.”
“What?”
“When I found Y/N, I could tell she was upset, and I invited her to lunch. While we were preparing to leave, she overheard an off-color comment about you. And Kakashi, she went up to the men and responded with a white-hot youthful outrage that I didn’t think someone of her stature would be able to produce! Defending you with the passion and conviction of a woman who’s witnessed her lover hang the stars themselves!”
What the hell is she doing? Kakashi was torn. The idea that you felt strongly enough to defend him tugged his heart in all different directions. Whoever this was that you overheard, Kakashi was sure this would just be the start of it. He had understood the importance of being entrusted as the mentor to the last surviving Uchiha and the nine-tailed fox jinchūriki, and although he could think of a hundred reasons why he wasn’t fit for the job, he had agreed to the Third Hokage’s request, only to fail even more spectacularly than he could have imagined.
Soon, the entire village would be saying all the same things. He would never ask or expect you to take on that animosity. It terrified him. But more than that, it angered him. Infuriated him; that you would be subjected to such hostility—that people would direct even a small portion of that disdain toward you—because you still cared for him, despite the terrible things he had done.
Well then. The answer was simple.
If the problem was that you cared about him…he would make you stop.
“Kakashi?” Gai addressed him, pulling him from his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
“She shouldn’t have done that,” Kakashi responded, his voice low and simmering.
“Rival, she—”
“I don’t want her to do that.”
Gai blinked a few times before softening his expression. “She loves you, Kakashi.”
“She shouldn’t do that either,” he snapped. “I don’t wa—”
“RIVAL.” Gai cut him off. “Don’t you dare say you don’t want her to love you. I won’t allow you to lie to me.”
Kakashi looked again at the memorial stone. His eye locked onto Obito’s name automatically. His old teammate, now only an etching on this monument, because of mistakes Kakashi had made and could never take back.
“I told her I love her…right before I left for that mission.”
Gai’s voice softened. “Kakashi, that’s wonderf—”
“No. It isn’t,” he argued. “Everything fell apart after that. Things I should have been able to prevent. I don’t want her to be dragged down by my mistakes.”
“Well, she—”
He faced his friend with venom in his uncovered eye. “I won’t let her.”
Kakashi ran, leaving Gai and Obito behind. He could hear Gai’s objections, but he wasn’t about to turn back and give his irresponsibly goofy friend the opportunity to try and change his mind.
He heaved a sigh of frustration. Why were you making this even more difficult than it already was? He had been an absolute jerk to you back in the hospital. He had taken your offers of help and reassurance and thrown them back in your face. When you’d heard whatever grievances the man at the dumpling shop had, you should have joined right in.
Not that the thought of you striking up a conversation with a new man didn’t turn Kakashi’s stomach inside out. His feet skidded on the ground. It had been hard enough accepting that you wouldn’t be his anymore, but he hadn’t considered that there would be nothing stopping you from giving yourself to someone else. Could he honestly stand it if he saw you hand in hand with someone new? Smiling that perfect smile at some other man?
A selfish instinct kept him perfectly still. Maybe he should change his mind. Maybe this was his chance to take it all back. He could just apologize, and you would stay by his side, offering him all your love without question. Sure, the rest of the village would still hate him. But he could keep you.
And then everyone would turn on you, as well.
No. This was the only way he could protect you, and that was what he wanted more than anything. He just hated that that meant he had to be even more cruel. It was sadistic, that protecting you meant hurting you. But it had to be done.
He couldn’t be selfish. He’d already had far more of you than he deserved to have. He would do it quickly; hurt you one last time, so he couldn’t hurt you any more in the future.
With his mind set in stone, Kakashi was able to track you down easily. You were just walking through the park, seeming a bit listless in the way you moved.
“Y/N.”
You whipped around at the sound of his voice. “Kakashi! H-hi.”
The look on your face could have broken his heart all over again. You were surprised to see him, but more than that, you looked happy. Hopeful, like you thought he had sought you out to take everything back.
And here he was, getting ready to hurt you all over again.
“I need to talk to you.”
A tremor ran through his body when he saw the soft, secure look in your eyes. You nodded and willingly stepped closer to him, blind to the fact that he was a danger to you. Like he wasn’t a threatening, cold-blooded monster.
Wordlessly, he quickly guided you to his apartment. It was close and private. Not to mention he wouldn’t invite himself into your home, especially under these pretenses.
As soon as he whisked you inside, he shut the door to block out the unnecessary hatred and negativity that nipped at his heels. He was about to create enough of that himself; he surely didn’t need help from the rest of the village. Kakashi refused to turn and look at you, frustrated by what he had to do.
“So…” You blinked a little nervously as he failed to speak. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He sighed, letting his head fall against the door. “Gai told me what happened. In the dumpling shop.”
“Oh,” you blushed at the memory. “I—”
Abruptly, he turned to face you, cutting you off before you had a chance to continue. “Don’t do anything like that again.”
“I…I’m sorry…” you stammered, taken back by his tone. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“That’s not—” His fingers curled into tight fists before he pushed his hitai-ate up and pulled his mask to his neck. “Just…stay out of it, Y/N.”
“But…” The look on your face went firm and defensive. “Kakashi, he said that you—”
“I don’t care what he said.”
“I do care!”
“Well don’t!” he thundered. Your mouth dropped open, stunned that the two of you were falling into an argument again. “You shouldn’t have done anything, Y/N. I don’t need your help, and I don’t need your pity. So just leave it alone.”
“It isn’t pity, you—”
“Stop.” He could feel the way his stare was wearing you down. “Stop defending me, stop taking my side.” It hurt like a blade, inwardly acknowledging everything else that you would stop. Stop loving me. “Just stop.”
You held eye contact for longer than he would have expected of anyone else, but he knew just how persistent you could be. “Why?” The question escaped your mouth on a shaky exhale. “Why wouldn’t I take your side when you’ve done nothing wrong?”
Kakashi turned back to the door, hiding the pain that was threatening to show through the cracks. “That was all I had to say,” he finished, opening the door to let you walk out of his life forever.
“Kakashi…” You walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He refused to turn, wishing to just block out your words. “What are you doing? Please, talk to me.”
“There’s nothing else to talk about. You should leave.”
“I know that you feel guilty for what happened to Sasuke and Naruto. And I know I can’t understand it but…can’t we just talk about it? I don’t expect to resolve everything tonight, but I don’t want to leave you like this again.”
He had to say it. It was for your own good, and you weren’t going to give him a choice. He had used all his usual tricks on you; acted as immature as the arrogant child he used to be; the reason people saw him as cold-blooded. But you were refusing to see him that way. So he looked away, and said the only thing you couldn’t misinterpret, no matter how badly he wanted you to.
“I’m telling you to leave me, Y/N. For good.”
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#kakashi x reader#kakashi hatake x reader#kakashi angst#kakashi fanfiction#kakashi x y/n#reader insert#rookie wrote
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From Depths Unknown ; Part 4
Part 1 ⚜ Part 2 ⚜ Part 3 ⚜ Ao3
Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.
Rating: E
Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence (discussion of injuries), Discussions of Death & the afterlife, background Bloodweave.
Chapter Summary:
Rolan pulled Tav back into him, face buried in her hair and his tail wrapped around her leg as many times as it could. Perhaps it was the weakness she still felt, but she leaned into him, and he could feel her stuttering breaths with her pressed against his chest. She was crying. His own eyes had been stinging since she looked over at him for the first time in two days, clenched shut every time he thought they might spill over.
He was so grateful he could hardly find words.
Notes: Fuck it lets update two days in a row. This series will end at Part 6, I've decided. Thanks for going on this journey with me so far.
The last thing Tav remembered was pain.
The sun came up, and Lae’zel flew off astride a dragon into its bright glow. When she had faded away into the distance, Tav remembered staring at the spot where Karlach and Wyll had stepped through a portal to the hells. Someone had said something about the sun, and then the trail of deep gashes in her torso throbbed with mind numbing pain. Everything was blank after that.
In the back of her mind in the fugue plane, she knew she was dead. It was nothingness, all senses and concepts slipped away. But her mind seemed to drift in a state of waiting for something to happen. What it was she could not remember. Flashes of faces were fuzzy, and the emotions they elicited were whispers. Time was unknowable, this state of absence could have been decades or seconds and Tav would not be able to tell the difference.
Something pulled, tugging at the edges of whatever was left of her.
First was amber colored warmth that seemed to seep into the center of the nebulous state of her, it beckoned: come back to me. She wanted to, letting the sensation fill her and start the spark of life. Tav felt her spirit be cupped in soft cooling hands, not diminishing the warmth, but an additional soothing touch, the color of silver wrapping around the amber glow.
A sharp white shock of lightning spread through the shape of a body she forgot she had - a deep rumbling in her newly found chest, and the cool wash of rain on her face. They were separate entities, but she could not quite tell what or who they were. She trusted them, letting them pull her until the combined efforts made the nebulous shapes she could see become clear. Faces.
Rolan’s scarlet skin, freckles hiding under dirt and ash, with his dark hair slipping out of its neat tie at the back of his head. His eyes were wide, the yellow glow against the darkness of his sclera was a lovely sight. And Shadowheart, frowning with intense focus, her pretty green eyes bright and watery. Jaheira’s even stare was just over Shadowheart’s shoulder, and Halsin’s brow tipped in concern towering above both of the women.
As if she was underwater, the familiar need to breach a surface and breathe overtook her.
Her whole body had been a livewire of sensation when the air hit her lungs. Most of them were unpleasant: pain and nausea and exhaustion. Tav hardly comprehended what she said and saw, she just remembered being told she could finally rest and then everything went black again.
Consciousness came to her slowly. But this was different than before. She was just waking up, like every other day in her life.
“Coming back from the dead, being suddenly tadpole free, the physical damage — these things are hard on the body on their own,” she heard a familiar rumbling voice. Halsin. “She’s been fully healed, but she needs rest.”
“Are we certain there’s no lasting damage?” Another familiar voice. Deep, crisply accented and comforting despite the shortness of tone. Rolan. “That I didn’t… didn’t do the resurrection wrong?”
Her eyes opened. Above her was the canopy of an ostentatious four post bed, her eyes took in a painting of a celestial sky framed by gold filigrees. It smelled of magic, rosewater and sage, and something else — something familiar but unnameable. As her mind came to her, she felt the need to move her fingers,taking in the sensation of her touch on the soft fabric of velvet blankets. Beneath her body was a plush, comfortable, mattress.
She ached. There was an absence in her psyche that at first was confusing — it was just her. No Emperor, no companions, no pounding resonation of the Elder Brain.
“Tav?”
Rolan’s face hovered over her. He looked as intense as ever, but it was softened by his eyes. Just as before, wide and comforting in their warmth. Her lips cracked, a slight sting accompanying the leisurely smile that took over her face.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hello,” he smiled a little.
“Is it over?” It’s all she could think to say, voice rough and dry.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, you did it.”
“What happened?”
“You —“ he swallowed, his smile dropping instantly. Whatever it was he couldn’t seem to say.
“What can you remember?” Halsin asked, making look over to the foot of the bed where he stood.
Tav wracked her brain. They were falling, they were in the water, they were on the dock. Lae’zel flew off on a red dragon, and named Tav liberator. Karlach’s heart almost gave out, but Wyll and her jumped into a portal before it could happen. Tav remembered frantically begging her to keep living, promising they would find a way to bring them back. Astarion… oh gods, Astarion.
He didn’t have the tadpole. He was out in the sun.
“Astarion — “ she asked Halsin, “is he okay?”
“He ran into the shadows,” Halsin said evenly, “wherever he is, Gale is with him.”
“But where are they?”
“We haven’t seen them,” Halsin’s brow furrowed.
“Shadowheart?” Tav asked, eyes clenched shut.
“Downstairs with the healers.” Rolan assured her.
Tav let out a shuddering breath. “And —“
“Jaheira and Minsc are helping to organize the rebuilding efforts,” Halsin informed her. “You gave us quite the scare,” he smiled a little at her. “You should have mentioned your wounds.”
That’s right. Throughout the adrenaline fueled panic to just keep everyone alive at the very end, Tav had forgotten an intellect devourer had nearly disemboweled her. She had taken quite a few hits besides that as well, shrugged off in the heat of battle. The onslaught of the Netherbrain’s psionic powers had made her brain feel like it would leak out of her ears. All in all, she had been truly fucked up by the end of it all.
“I died.”
Halsin nodded.
Tav licked her lips, but her tongue was just as dry as her lips. Only a few of their party had to be resuscitated on the road. Withers was there for exactly that, and she never worried too much about it, saving all their resurrection scrolls for allies that Withers had deemed not necessary to maintain in the fight. Only their core group were tied to the ultimate fate, and after that was finished she imagined he had to maintain the balance of life and death.
“I remember something pulling me,” she closed her eyes. “Pulling me out of — water? No… it was nothing.”
“A resurrection scroll,” Rolan finally spoke. “I used a resurrection scroll to bring you back.”
Tav looked over at him, wanting to ease the worry that creased his handsome face. “My hero.”
He closed his eyes, a smile twitching at his lips as he exhaled a breath that might have been a laugh. Her heart felt fit to burst. “You’re an idiot.”
Tav sat up, a wave of dizziness overcoming her so she toppled to the side. Rolan had a hand on her shoulder, and an arm at her back. Nausea flooded her, and she took a deep breath.
“It may take some time for you to get your bearings.” Halsin told her. “You were lost to us for quite some time, your body needs to adjust to the shifting states.”
“Not to mention the side effects from the tadpoles being removed,” Rolan added. “Shadowheart’s been struggling with headaches, and fatigue. You need to rest.”
“Can I see her?”
“She will want to know you’re awake.” Halsin said with a nod and left the room.
“Where are we? The tower?”
“Yes,” Rolan was trying to ease her down but she wanted to will herself to feel better.
With a truly pathetic shove she managed to sling her legs over and out of the covers. Her feet slowly met the plush rug that covered the stone floor, and she stood. Well she tried to: she got up to her feet and then felt her legs give out. Rolan grunted as he grabbed her around the waist, tugging her against him to keep her from falling.
“Please, Tav, lay down,” he insisted.
“I want to see the city,” she pleaded.
There was an open door to the terrace right there, she could see the clear blue sky of an afternoon. Rolan folded with a sharp sigh and helped steady her as she took a step, then another, weakly and slowly but she was not going to be denied the chance to see it.
At the railing of the terrace, she gripped it with weak hands, Rolan just behind her with an arm firmly wrapped around her waist. He wasn’t letting her get too close to the edge. The city was in a bad state, many buildings in the lower half were destroyed, and the upper city was near unrecognizable. The tower was tall, but she could see people below. Carrying lumber and stones, running back and forth with supplies, building and walking around.
“We did it.” She breathed. “We did it.”
Rolan pulled Tav back into him, face buried in her hair and his tail wrapped around her leg as many times as it could. Perhaps it was the weakness she still felt, but she leaned into him, and he could feel her stuttering breaths with her pressed against his chest. She was crying. His own eyes had been stinging since she looked over at him for the first time in two days, clenched shut every time he thought they might spill over.
He was so grateful he could hardly find words.
“You should be laying down,” he ground out past the lump in his throat after a few moments.
“Okay.”
But neither of them moved.
“Can we sit out here ? Just for a little bit?”
Rolan heaved a sigh, more for show than out of true irritation. He helped her maneuver into a chair, and she seemed grateful to be off of her feet. There was only one chair on the terrace, and Rolan found himself standing by it, ready to steady her if needed, afraid to wander too far. Tav took in the feeling of the sun, the sounds of the city below and took a few deep breaths. Rolan could only watch her.
Her dead gaze had stuck with him, so he tried to replace it with the current view of her eyes scanning the city below. He had found himself constantly checking that her chest had been moving with breaths while she rested, he was clinging to the proof she was alive and moving around now. Rolan’s tail wrapped around her ankle again, and she leaned over to look at it with a small laugh.
“What are you two lovebirds up to?”
The new voice had him jumping out of his skin in shock. As if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t, his face flushed a deeper red, his tail unraveling from its grip.
Shadowheart was in the doorway, a bright grin betraying her teasing tone. “Five months on the road,” she said to Tav, “and you die on me at the last second.”
“Gotta keep you on your toes,” Tav replied.
“Apology accepted,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes.
This was a far different reaction to when Tav had been brought into the tower. The reality of the situation was made clear by the true panic in the cleric’s normally calm and detached demeanor. They looked at each other for a moment as if in some silent conversation. After a while Tav ducked her head.
“Feels strange, not having you bouncing around in my brain,” she said.
“It’s both a relief and… a loss, somehow. I never thought I’d miss anything about the tadpoles.”
“Guess we just have to talk to each other like normal people, eh?”
Rolan felt he was intruding and went back into the bedroom, taking a moment to recollect himself. Halsin was there, a nod of understanding offered in his direction. Neither of them truly knew the experience of sharing a consciousness, not in that way. It seemed to be something that Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Astarion, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Tav would always have to bind them.
“Jaheira tells me you’ll be relocating some of the orphaned children near Reithwin,” Rolan cleared his throat.
“It’s a peaceful place now that the curse has been lifted, and there’s plenty of space for them to grow,” he nodded. “As the Grove was for you, I hope to build a place of refuge for anyone who wishes to leave the city.”
“Whatever you may need for the journey, you need only ask.”
Halsin thanked him with a nod. “It suits you, this position. Archmage of Baldur’s Gate ,” he smiled a little, “the title should go to someone who has overcome adversity. Someone who knows the value of what he has.”
Rolan was not so certain. “I’m not an archmage yet,” he said. “I still have much to learn.”
“As you say,” Halsin smiled.
Rolan looked over his shoulder, out at the terrace where Shadowheart and Tav were still deep in conversation. Rolan knew that whatever they were discussing, was meant for them alone to hear. “The tower has an impressive greenhouse, but I’d like to get an expert's opinion on how to improve it.”
Halsin smiled tiredly, all at once looking like a man who had lived centuries. “Any glimpse of nature you have to offer would be quite the solace to me.”
“So Selune did hear me,” Shadowheart said quietly, eyes averted. “I had no magic left. I had revivify prepared for this reason but — “ she shook her head. “I prayed she would give me some way to save you.”
“Her and something else certainly heard you,” Tav leaned back. “I almost… don’t know what to do now.”
“You aren’t doing anything,” Shadowheart admonished. “At least another day or two of rest, then you can think about the future.”
“You’re rested,” Tav smiled. “What will you do?”
“Help around here for a bit longer,” Shadowheart looked over the city. “After that, maybe follow Halsin. He wants to head back towards the mountain pass, taking some refugees with him, I could settle there or… explore.”
“Exploring suits you,” Tav smiled, “selfishly, I’d wish you wouldn’t go far but… my little Selunite has to spread her wings.”
After a while the afternoon shifted into night, and the two of them sent a quiet prayer of thanks to Selune as the moon rose into the sky. Tav had never been the religious type and their journey had only solidified her resolve to respect the gods from afar. The entire mess of the Absolute had been designed for The Dead Three, Mystra’s involvement had not quite inspired awe in her given that it required one of her best friends killing himself, and everything with Shar spoke for itself. But she appreciated Selune’s more distant approach to aiding them; it certainly had caused them less strife.
Arm looped in Shadowheart’s for sake of steadiness (Tav had an inkling her friend was feeling affectionate but would not admit it) Tav had met with the small group gathered for dinner. Cal barely maintained his composure while he gave her a gentle hug, Lia lingered a little in her arms, while Halsin smiled on. Rolan was hovering nearby, and looked ready to scold his siblings.
“Don’t crowd her,” he insisted.
“I don’t mind,” she smiled, patting Lia on the back of the head. “It’s been a rough journey to get here, yeah?” She looked at the tiefling in her embrace who was a bit misty eyed. “But we’re fine! And I’m starving. Being dead works up quite the appetite.”
Everyone but Rolan seemed to find the joke at least a little funny, but she was used to him looking bothered by her. She was happy to see his eye twitch in the face of her jokes. Despite her appetite, after filling her stomach and drinking nearly an entire pitcher of water to herself she was quite sleepy. But there was some business she had to see to.
“Has anyone looked for Gale and Astarion?”
“There’s been a lot of healing work to do,” Shadowheart said, “wherever they are I’m sure they’re fine.”
“I’d like to see it for myself,” Tav said seriously. “They’re the only ones left, Shadowheart, I want to know they’re okay.”
Shadowheart shook her head a little. “I can start a search party, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Tav didn’t like this answer. “If it were us —“
“No,” Shadowheart cut her off. “You died. It was just me, Halsin, Jaheira and Minsc. They know there’s only so many places we could be — and they still haven’t turned up.”
It hurt to hear it said out loud. Tav was trying not to be selfish, but Shadowheart was right. It did feel a bit like the two had abandoned them. At least Karlach, Wyll and Lae’zel had an excuse for leaving moments after their victory. The sun went down every night, Astarion and Gale could have made their way back days ago.
Shadowheart specifically must have felt slighted. The late arrival of Halsin, Jaheira and Minsc did not make them any less a part of the team but Astarion and Gale were the first they had met after the nautiloid crash. The four of them had been together since day one of the nightmare. For them to just go missing on her when she needed them most had to sting.
Aware of the tension in the room, Tav offered a tired smile, not wanting to drag the conversation out any longer. “Alright.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Shadowheart frowned.
“I’m not in charge anymore,” Tav sighed as she rubbed at her eyes, “and I’m too tired to argue right now. When I’m all rested, I’ll figure something out.”
For a minute, it looked like Shadowheart was trying to concentrate on something, brow furrowing with the attempt. And then blinked a few times as if she caught herself.
“There’s no more tadpoles, Shadowheart,” Tav found herself laughing a bit, “can’t poke around in each other's heads anymore.”
“I know — I forgot,” she shook her head.
“I think,” Halsin said, “it’s time for you to rest, Tav. You’re still —“
“Recovering, yeah, I know.” She stood up from the table.
A loud scraping sound happened the moment she got to her feet as Rolan rose from his chair suddenly, nearly knocking it over. “I’ll walk you.”
“Thank you.” Tav said with raised eyebrows, seeing Lia cover her face and Cal grin out of the corner of her eye. “Goodnight, everyone.”
Rolan did not ask, but simply placed her arm in the crook of his elbow as he led her out. The tower was big, and as the halls went on she was more and more looking forward to laying down in a bed. Her strength felt sapped still, her legs a bit wobbly after sitting for so long. The food in her stomach satiated her, but it brought with it the desire to close her eyes.
“I can’t wait to feel normal again,” she said.
“No need to rush,” he replied.
“There’s a lot to do,” Tav insisted. “And I’m useless.”
“Gods forbid the Savior of the Gate stop for once.”
“That title has a nice ring to it, when did you come up with that?”
“I didn’t,” he smiled, “it’s what everyone is calling you and your friends. The Saviors of the Gate.”
“Oh.”
They certainly had received a lot of thanks and praises over the last few months. For everyone in such a big city to know her name, to be discussing the journey she and her friends had been on was odd. She was not quite sure how she felt about being so… known.
As he led her into the same room she had woken in, she slid onto the bed with a groan. She shuffled until she was under the covers, taking deep contented breaths as she buried her face in the pillows. This bed was more heavenly than even her own back home, and she was so grateful for it.
“Are all the beds in the tower this comfy?”
“Knowing Lorroakan, he probably saved the best for himself,” Rolan said.
“That must be your new bed,” Tav turned over to look at him. “Is it heaven? Just a big magical cloud of relaxation?”
“Erm,” Rolan shifted on his feet. “It is, yes, but —“ he cleared his throat, “but you’ll have to tell me. You’ve been sleeping in it.”
Tav was confused. “This is your bed?”
“It is.”
“You gave up your bed for me?” Tav asked, “why?”
Rolan stood somewhat awkwardly, hands at his sides. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“That’s sweet,” Tav smiled. “Are you sure you’re not a doppleganger? Did some straggling Bhaalists get to you?”
He eased up at the teasing, looking more comfortable. “I’ll remember not to show you any consideration in the future. Such a lack of gratitude.” He was smiling.
“You’re one to talk about lacking gratitude,” she smiled back, eyes closed now. She was so tired. “I can never win with you.”
“And yet here you are in my bed, while I toss and turn in a guest room.”
“Poor Rolan,” she replied. “So very put out by his little hero.”
“Indeed.”
He was shutting off again, she could tell by the closed tone. “I am sorry,” she replied, eyes opening, “I honestly do feel like I’ve put everyone out.”
“You saved the city,” he looked befuddled. “You died saving it.”
“Could have done better,” she muttered. Her thoughts going to Karlach and Wyll, and to Astarion now confined to the shadows.
“We both know that’s far from the truth,” he said softly. “I — I thought it wouldn’t work — the resurrection.”
“I worried you.”
Part of her knew in the back of her mind that was true, but he was such a hard puzzle to figure out. Sometimes she was sure he thought of her the same way she did of him. But he always was at arms length, never giving more than a hint and then closing off immediately after. ‘You’ll come back to me,’ he had told her in the high hall. As if she was his.
“Worried,” he repeated, a half laugh in amazement. “Yes, I would rather say you did.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, go to sleep,” he insisted.
“Will you stay? Just for a little bit?”
The thought of being left alone was overwhelming, she had not spent a night alone in months. Rolan searched her face for a moment, then sat on the bed, turned towards her. For a moment he looked unsure what to do with his hands, before deciding to fold them in his lap, his tail flicking gently behind him on the covers. Thanking him quietly, she let herself drift off, eyes closed so she couldn’t see his unwavering gaze on her.
Tav was bouncing back quickly, he was pleased to see. She had gone from only being able to draft a letter to her mother before needing to lay down for the rest of the day to walking around the upper levels of the tower on her own. But she was starting to get restless after a day or two. Now that she could stand on her own two feet without someone’s support, she was hard to contain. She had been blocked off from the bottom floor of the tower, since no one trusted her not to get roped into some rebuilding effort before she was ready.
Rolan was busier than ever. He only had a handful of staff to assist him, and all of them were running around the city to help the recovery efforts. Despite the circumstances and the less than gentle way Jaheira had put it, Rolan realized quickly she had been right about taking on the duty of the city’s Archmage. The tower was a central point in the city, the main source of magical wares and a trove of information.
Rolan didn’t want it to be a museum, he wanted it to be a resource.
At the end of the day, he would dine with Tav, his siblings and Shadowheart. Halsin joined them every once in a while, but he had given his word to assess just how many orphans were running unattended in the ruined city streets. He was also the only one Yenna would come out of the Elfsong suite for, and he had to make sure she was looked after and fed. After dinner and a healthy amount of wine amongst the small group, Tav had asked him if he had anything that could help get her to the hells.
Alarm bells rang off in his mind. “We can look into it.” He offered as diplomatically as he knew how.
“Her engine won’t last here,” Shadowheart reminded Tav.
There was a stubborn look on Tav’s face, and she replied. “I just want to look into it.”
That night Rolan poured over the library with her.There were portals, an easy enough thing to figure out, but Tav wanted a solution for Karlach’s engine. Infernal engineering was hardly his expertise, and Dammon was up to his horns in work. Rolan also already knew that the blacksmith had exhausted his knowledge to make it so Karlach could touch people once more, making the engine stable in the material plane was, as far as he knew, not possible.
“I don’t understand any of this,” Tav muttered.
“Your many talents don’t include infernal engineering?”
“Not yet,” she arched a brow at the book in her hands.
“Perhaps after things settle down,” Rolan offered, “Dammon could look further into it.”
It was a poor attempt to make her let it go, even temporarily. And she saw straight through it.
“You’re trying to placate me,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t think I can do it.”
“What I think you're capable of is irrelevant. You are not a smithy of any kind, and have no firsthand knowledge of the hells let alone the machinery built specifically to withstand its atmosphere,” Rolan said evenly. “I understand the pressure you feel, but you’re one person —“
“No, you don’t understand,” she snapped. “I wasn’t just one person, I was seven. You don’t know what it’s like to feel someone else’s fear as if it were your own, their sadness and joy — to experience their darkest memories, as if you’ve lived them yourself. They trusted me, they looked to me to keep them safe, to keep us on the right path — “ she stopped to take a deep breath, eyes closing as a shaky exhale forced its way out and gave away how affected she was. “Karlach and Wyll should be here.”
Rolan felt the sting of her words deeper than he wanted to admit. An ugly jealousy reared its head; all but one of the six had left her and he was right there and that still wasn’t enough. He never seemed to be up to the task. The urge to lash out was strong; helpless against the scratching in his chest he felt himself get angry.
“I’ll leave you to your research,” he said shortly.
The silence was only filled by his footsteps on the tile floor as he made his way out. He passed Shadowheart in the hall as she made her way to her room for the night, offering only a curt nod in her direction as he picked up his pace to avoid conversation. His temper was quickly slipping, and he was sure he’d snap at the next person who would make eye contact with him. He made it to his borrowed room and slammed the door shut behind him. His tail flicked back and forth in sharp, angry movements, hitting the wood of the door with heavy thumps. He needed a distraction.
Rolan sat at the desk in the small guest room which he had taken to since insisting Tav take the master suite. He grabbed his spell book, dug into the desk drawer for a quill and some ink and opened to his most recent page. Unfinished notes about a telekinesis spell, something he wanted to try to modify to control the trajectory of an object rather than just send it flying backwards.
A thin chain was nestled in the gutter of the book, carefully attached to his ribbon place marker. The dangling pearl hung over the edge. When she had asked him to keep it safe he knew it needed to be with the one thing he always had with him, and took the greatest care of. His finger ran over the pearl and he winced.
Gods, I’m a fool, he thought as he flipped to another page.
Despite the fact that the very mention of her group had sent him into a jealous fervor, and that he was really rather irritated with her, he knew immediately what might cheer her up. And he was not going to stop the impulse to do it. He never did. It felt like insanity. He tried and tried to be exactly what he thought she wanted and never felt it was enough. Time and time again, he went against every instinct of self-preservation he had clung to so desperately his entire life to try and let himself fall further for her.
Rolan carefully read his notes, going over the incantation, double checking his components, and practicing the hand movements. Once he was more confident he knew what to do, he cast Sending for the first time in his life, thinking hard on the recipient. The rush of the weave molding to his whim sparked the usual comfort, this time punctuated by the hum of the spell awaiting his message.
“Gale, it’s Rolan. Where the bloody hells have you two been? We are awaiting your hasty return. Tav and Shadowheart are currently at the tower.”
He let some of his irritation bleed into the message. If anyone deserved a bit of his ire, it was those two. Then he waited. The hum of the spell still resonated in his mind as the connection stayed and awaited the reply.
“Ah, Sending! Clever.” Gale’s downright chipper voice broke through. “Astarion and I were simply working on a solution to — ow! My love, please, I only have twenty-five words! Now, Rolan we —“
The spell cut out, Gale having used a good chunk of his limited verbiage to scold Astarion. Rolan felt a throb in his temple, and rubbed at it. Gale was thus far the most admirable and well-learned wizard he knew. He respected the man more than he could say, but even he was prone to making Rolan question the sanity of Tav’s entire operation. To think the world had been in their hands, only they were truly crazy enough to pull it off, he believed. At the very least he could assure Tav the two were alive and well.
A gentle humming of weave wrapped around him, and in his ear as if the man was right in front of him, Rolan heard Gale’s voice.
“Apologies! Astarion and I will make our way to the tower shortly, we have much to discuss. Expect us tomorrow! How are Tav and Shadowheart?”
Rolan clenched his teeth, and spoke out loud. “They’re both safe now, no thanks to you. Forewarning, neither are pleased with you two. You’d better come up with a good excuse. Good evening.”
There was not another message. Rolan felt a sense of satisfaction in letting them sweat in the knowledge that their friends were waiting on them. It had been hard to see Shadowheart struggle with being the last of the original six on her feet, and the two had been one of the first things Tav had asked about when she finally awoke.
It had been nearly a week with no word. He was certain Tav would not have been so harsh with him earlier were her friends there with her. The ache of jealousy still settled in his chest, he wanted nothing more than to go back to the study and be near her but pride was preventing him from walking out of the door.
He went back to his spell book, ready to make more notes on the new discoveries from the sending spell and finish working on his telekinesis alterations. Whenever he paused to think or stopped to read over his notes, his thumb gently rubbed over the pearl still dangling there.
Tav felt horrible about what she said. After Rolan left her alone in the study, she tried to read more about infernal steelwork through tear blurred eyes. Another thing to add to her pile of failures, festering in the pool of guilt that seemed permanently settled in her stomach.
Immediately she wanted to apologize. Her temper could be quick but she knew when she was wrong. Tav went to the door, looking out into the hallway, but it was empty. She had no idea what room he was staying in, since he insisted she kept using his for the time being. Unable to do anything else, she went back to the book she had found and read it until her eyes ached.
The next day Rolan was not at breakfast. Everyone had stopped their hovering, after a few days of rest and recovery from the battle and her return from death, Tav felt almost entirely back to her old self. When she came down into the shop section of the tower for the first time, she was surprised to see it set up as a sort of healing center. Shadowheart informed her that compared to the night after battle the place was much less crowded.
Shadowheart joined as Jaheira walked Tav through the city, discussing the rebuilding efforts. As before the attack, the upper city was closed off, the efforts to salvage the destroyed streets had apparently been well underway before anyone official besides Florrick paid attention to the lower city.
A good chunk of the patriars and nobles had been murdered at Gortash’s coronation. Their heirs were all banded together to be the new saviors of the city, buying first the love of the richest by repairing their streets first. It was clear that the new favorites in the lower city were the Harper’s, Florick and even the new master of Ramazith’s Tower.
She was told of his efforts to keep open the doors of his home as a refuge, and even some stories of him running around the morning after the battle to help wherever he could. Pride welled up in her, even if he was not speaking to her currently, she was so pleased to hear him praised that she could hardly keep from smiling.
Despite Shadowheart’s hesitance, Tav volunteered to immediately start getting to work. It felt good to do something besides force herself to walk around the tower until she got too tired to continue. Shadowheart had taken on a lot while Tav was recovering, including informing a grieved Duke Ravenguard about the whereabouts of his son. Tav felt the need to make up for it.
Outside of the shop in the square, Tav decided to try using some magic to fix up a broken wall. Stoneshape was a hard spell, but it felt good to use her magic. Once the exhaustion wore off it bubbled inside of her, crackling to be used, or to find a way out of her. On the road the tadpole often kept it under better control than she ever had alone and it had countless opportunities to lash out given all the fighting they had done.
Gale had always been kind about it, but he mentioned more than once a bit of wizarding education to keep it under control would not hurt. She knew better than anyone he was right. Even with his help she still felt it crack and pull at her when she was particularly upset.
The only thing that ever controlled it was to exhaust it. Use it all up until there was only the vague hum beneath her veins. She had gotten used to using pointless little spells in her everyday life to satiate its crackling need to fly out of her. Stone shaping buildings back together was a quite useful thing, she thought, given how deeply she was feeling guilt.
An earth myrmidon came up next to her, its faceless head turned to help her with her task. She looked over her shoulder, trying to find its summoner. Her eyes caught black and amber, Rolan standing not too far off, but he quickly looked away. She kept watching, more of his summoned elementals were clearing rubble, an animated set of armor carrying new building materials to groups of people hammering away. All under his focused gaze as he waved his hands and used his magic to clean up her mess.
Unable to stop herself, she came over to inspect his work. Arms crossed over her chest in a show of consideration as she tilted her head.
“Master Rolan, you are making quite a name for yourself in this city,” she teased lightly. “How charitable, and generally decent of you to offer your services in this trying time.”
“How benevolent of you to notice,” he replied dryly. “Quite the compliment from the Savior of the Gate. I’ve been rather busy while you’ve been lazing away in the tower.”
“Well, I can’t be outdone,” she smiled. “I have a reputation as a hero, you know.”
“I do know,” Rolan’s lip twitched, fighting a smile. “All too well.”
“Rolan —“
“Astarion! What the hells are you doing?”
Tav turned quickly at Shadowheart’s panicked voice. There in the street was Astarion, next to a grinning Gale, in broad daylight. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight and she was running towards them, Shadowheart having the same idea. There had to be something she could cast, something to block him from the sun, but her mind was coming up short.
But as she approached, he wasn’t burning. There was no ashen haze over his face, his eyes were bright and… blue.
“Don’t make a scene, darling,” Astarion said, but he seemed very nearly bashful.
In fact, a soft pink blush was rising on his cheeks. His skin, though still pale, had a glow to it. She’d grown so used to the marble like pallor of his skin, the undertones of pink made her feel like she was looking at a stranger.
“You’re — how?”
“True resurrection!” Gale supplied gleefully at his side. “One of the only known cures for vampirism.”
“How in the hells did you manage that?” Shadowheart was looking wide eyed at Astarion, while Tav touched his warm cheek.
“Due to the nature of the orb, I acquired a scroll very early on in my isolation,” Gale explained, animated as ever. “As I pose no risk to any surrounding cities any longer, I found a much better use for it.”
“I’ve been so worried about you two,” Tav frowned.
“You had a resurrection scroll this entire time?” Shadowheart snapped.
“Well, yes —“ Gale’s mouth shut tight at Shadowheart’s blazing gaze. He looked to Tav confusedly.
“I had some pretty bad wounds —“
“She died.” Shadowheart cut her off. “Bled out right on the dock after you two ran off, and I had no magic left. If Rolan hadn’t had a scroll at the tower —“
“But he did,” Tav interrupted, at the stricken look on Gale’s face. “It's okay, I’m fine.”
“It’s my fault,” Astarion said, a frown on his face as he refused to meet their eyes. Since he was not usually one to come close to apologizing, it made both Shadowheart and Tav give their full attention. “I was… well, I thought I lost my time in the sun.”
“Even if I didn’t come back,” Tav said, “I couldn't be angry at you for this.” She sniffled a little, “welcome back to mortality. You don’t look a day over 200.”
“Stop, you’ll make me blush,” Astarion preened. “Which is still the oddest sensation, all that warmth.” He touched his face.
“Given how long you two were gone I imagine you’ve rediscovered just how warm you can get,” Tav teased.
“I’m so sorry,” Gale said, wincing. “I’d assumed we were all in the clear.”
There was a silence and Astarion’s new eyes looked to Tav and then Shadowheart. “It’s really just us now, isn’t it?”
“For now,” Tav smiled sadly. “Quiet, isn’t it?”
“Odd. And… well, I won’t say I miss you all in the back of my mind but,” he frowned a little, “it was something, wasn’t it?”
She didn’t need the tadpole to know they all understood. Tav yanked Astarion into a hug, but it took a few moments for him to return the gesture. She flailed her hand around to find Gale’s sleeve and pulled him in too. Shadowheart looked like she was going to stubbornly ignore Gale’s outstretched arm but Astarion rolled his eyes.
“If we are doing group hugs you can’t make me endure it alone,” he said to her.
Shadowheart gave in, and no one mentioned the tears rolling down her cheek. Astarion’s heartbeat was in her ear, Gale’s hair tickled her face, and Shadowheart was smashed against her side with a desperate grip on her shirt. The fact they were all in each other’s head had made their time together intimate regardless of whether they wanted it to be or not. In the absence of it, Tav was ready to claim whatever closeness to them she could.
“Can we get a victory drink now?”
There had been a small celebration at the Elfsong after the emotional reunion in the square. Rolan gave them their space. On the outside of her life, as he always seemed to be. A bittersweet contentment was living in his chest, to see her so happy and feeling that he had no place in her celebration.
But he was not going to be the one who brought down the mood of the evening. He, afterall, had much to be grateful for as he spent the night drinking with his siblings, Alfira and Lakrissa. Some of the others from the caravan had even come out. By the end of the night, he made sure the very drunk heroes made it up to their suite and returned to the tower.
Now that she was settled in with her friends, he had his bedroom back. When he laid down, his pillows still smelled of her. He loved it. He loved her. For so many days he had avoided calling it what it was, even in his own mind. He would admit to himself that she was as dear to him as his siblings, he would admit that he wanted her - sometimes so badly it felt like he was being burned alive, but calling it love seemed to be a nail in a coffin.
Because Tav obviously wanted him in some way. She trusted him with her most prized possession, she asked him on a date before running off to save the world, and she was always looking for ways to bother him. But be it an Elderbrain, death itself, or some slip of the tongue that nearly started an argument it never seemed to come to anything.
Rolan drifted off to sleep that night trying to figure out why.
In the morning, he busied himself in the tower. There was still so much to do, and he had spent most of the past week running around the city. Eventually, the Sorcerer’s Sundries would have to reopen, and he had a lot to change around the upper levels of the tower. It saved his pride to be away from questions about Tav, and it was a temporary distraction.
“There you are,” Cal came up sheepishly. “I know you said not to bother you — “
“And yet here you are.”
“There’s a lady down stairs,” Cal began. “She won’t go away, and she keeps asking for Tav.”
“You can tell her that the Saviors of Baldur's gate aren’t at the beck and call of any civilian who fancies meeting them,” Rolan grumbled, “and the Master of Ramazith’s Tower is not their secretary.”
“Rolan,” Cal called for his attention seriously. “She says she’s Tav’s mother.”
Thank you for reading!
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Of legendary birds
#pokespe#pokemon#trainer green#trainer blue#moltres#.... no idea what the others are called in englisch#my art#fanart#its kinda eh. maybe i will redo the colors sometimes else. but this is it now#i might do like. a series of this. and then i could just update the colors#pokemon adventures
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come morning light
chapter 2 • series masterlist
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.
word count: ~2.5k
tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury
a/n: i'm finally finished with chapter 2, and once again nervous af about it haha. there's not terribly much happening in this one, but i promise we'll get there, it just needs the buildup :)
thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading <3
follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)
dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but after hours of tossing and turning in the darkness of your bedroom, you think it’s probably time to get up.
You’re halfway convinced that last night’s events were a product of your imagination, that your mind has felt so lonely that it conjured up the whole scenario. But when you step out of your bedroom and find the door of your parents’ bedroom only halfway closed, the way you have never left it before saying good night to Ellie earlier, you have to come to terms with the fact that this might actually be your reality.
Ellie seems to be sound asleep, a lump under the covers, softly breathing, but when you head to the living area and switch on one of the smaller lamps, you’re met with the piercing glare of Joel. He’s still lying on the couch, much like you left him, still pale, still dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s much more awake now, his gaze following your every move.
“Hey,” you say softly, sinking down on the same armchair that you sat in when you watched him last night while Ellie took a shower. You suppress a shudder at the way he regards you, his eyes flicking up and down your body, taking in your size, you presume, searching for weapons. Your gun is tucked into the waistband at the back of your pants, which you’re sure he’s already aware of. You don’t like the way he makes you feel, like somehow you’re intruding on him. You should have the upper hand, this is your home and he’s injured, you helped him for crying out loud, and here you are, nervously watching his every move. You did the right thing. It’s gonna be fine.
“Where’s Ellie?” he asks, ignoring your greeting, his voice gruff.
“Sleeping,” you reply, nodding your head to the bedroom door. “She’s okay, I promise.”
Some of the tension seems to release from his body and he slumps back down a little, but the distrust in his expression when he looks at you doesn’t waver. Then again, you’re probably not much different.
“Look,” you sigh, “I’m not playing some kind of game here. You came into my house, I saw that you needed help, so I helped.” You try to infuse your voice with as much confidence as you can. “Don’t make me regret that, okay?”
He shrugs, a noncommittal grunt the only verbal answer. It could potentially be interpreted as a thanks, you guess. In a less tense situation, you’d probably grow annoyed by now. Shrugging yourself, you get to your feet and head to the kitchen. Anything to escape the way he’s watching your every movement.
“Hey, do you want coffee?” You don’t really want to offer him any, but you’d feel weird drinking it yourself without asking.
He pipes up at the question, head turning in your direction, his face the most open that you’ve seen it yet. “You have coffee?”
“Yeah.” That’s why I’m fucking asking.
“I– yes.” A breath, a second of him not meeting your eyes. “Thanks.”
You smile, small, fleetingly, busying yourself with the ground beans and the boiling water, reveling in the smell that slowly spreads throughout the room. It reminds you of happier times, when the world was still normal.
He has pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily, when you walk over to hand him the steaming cup, still careful to keep your distance.
After you sit back down, the both of you stay silent for a few minutes. You enjoy the bitter taste on your tongue, the way you slowly feel your energy rising.
“Does it hurt much?” you ask eventually, gesturing towards his stomach.
Another grunt, the hint of a head shake.
“So it does.” He opens his mouth, the protest most likely already on his tongue, and you raise an eyebrow. “I have painkillers, are you sure that you–”
“No.” It comes fast, his voice raised, no room for arguments.
You instinctively flinch back at the unexpected louder sound, the cup shaking in your grip. You set it down on the table in front of you. Have your hands free, just in case.
There’s a hint of regret in his eyes, his free hand slightly raised, palm open. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize.
“Okay,” you breathe, working hard to keep your voice steady, “no painkillers, got it.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, his face half hidden, words almost lost behind the cup. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s alright,” you tell him as much as yourself.
You’ve gotten jumpy, not used to loud sounds anymore, raised voices, not used to humans in general, you suppose. You hadn’t fully realized it until now, until there’s other humans around you again.
“Thank you,” he continues unexpectedly, “not just for the coffee, but– you know.” He’s struggling, the words not coming easily, but you think that he’s being earnest. “Patching me up.”
“Of course.” You nod hastily, your heart still beating a little too fast.
Another moment passes in silence, both of you slowly sipping the coffee. He’s looking around, taking in his surroundings, eyes lingering on the closed wooden doors and the stairs leading up. You try not to get nervous about it. It’s normal that he would want to know more about where he is, after all.
“This is the basement, right? Is it safe?”
“Yeah,” you breathe. “No way to get in from outside.” As long as you stay inside, you’re safe.
He hums, appreciatively, you think.
“How long have you been living here?”
“Always. It’s my parents’ house. I mean–” you laugh, but it comes out hollow, “we lived upstairs, obviously. But my dad was… kinda crazy. Or– not that crazy, I guess, all things considered.” Your lips curl into a wry smile.
Your mind flashes back to long lectures about survival techniques, learning how to shoot, your father going on and on about first aid, hunting, all the things that you couldn’t have cared less about as a teenage girl, but were ingrained in your brain nonetheless. You’re grateful, now, but it’s laced with guilt about how often you snapped at your father, how often you told him he was paranoid, seeing dangers that weren’t there, that he was wasting your time. You couldn’t have known, the rational part of you argues. But you can never take it back now, the guilt whispers.
When you look up, Joel’s eyes are on you, eyebrows raised in question. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Stay in the present.
“Sorry, what did you–?”
Worry is painting his expression. “Are you okay?”
Don’t show weakness. “Yeah, of course. Just spaced out for a second.”
You force a smile onto your face and stand up rather abruptly, gathering both cups and putting them into the sink. Joel hasn’t moved, but you feel his eyes on you as you move.
“Do you, um, do you want to shower, maybe? Or just wash up, I don’t know, how–” You gesture towards the dried bloodstain on his flannel, forcefully keeping your tone light. “I have clean clothes, too, if you want.”
A shiver runs through you at the thought of going through your dad’s things, of someone else wearing them. He doesn’t need them anymore. He’s not coming back.
You know that you’ve gone silent for too long again even before you see Joel’s expression. He doesn’t ask this time, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something that almost looks like understanding.
“Yeah, I guess cleaning up a bit would be nice. I– thank you. Again”
His voice is gruff and he avoids your eyes. You think that he doesn’t like it, having to thank you. Owing you.
Giving him a nod, you head to the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Ellie, but she’s awake already, her eyes glinting in the light that’s falling into the dark room from the living area. You clench your jaw, heading for one of the drawers, trying hard not to think about what you’re doing. It’s not like he ever wore this stuff, it was just sitting down here. It’s fine, you’re fine.
“Don’t worry, it’s not about you,” Ellie says quietly from beside you, breaking through your racing thoughts.
You turn towards her, confusion on your face. “What is?”
“Joel,” she shrugs, still keeping her voice low. “He’s like that with everyone. He’s a bit of an asshole, really.” She sounds fond, saying it, like it’s an endearing character trait.
A surprised laugh escapes you. “I– okay, thanks, I guess.”
She waves it away, swinging her feet out of the bed. “No, thank you for not murdering me in my sleep.”
“Yeah, likewise.” You shake your head, still laughing to yourself. It’s so easy to like the girl, to feel like you already know her.
You hand Joel a pile of clothes, purposefully avoiding to look at them too closely, explain where the towels are and he grumbles his approval before the bathroom door closes behind him.
You release a breath and close your eyes for a second. You are undeniably warming up to Ellie, finding it almost impossible not to, but her companion is a different story.
“Hey, do you drink coffee?” you ask in the direction of the bedroom.
“Ew, no!” comes her reply as she steps out of the door, collecting the wild mess of hair on the top of her head and securing it in a ponytail.
Her offense at the mere suggestion makes you chuckle under your breath as you busy yourself with preparing breakfast in the form of porridge instead. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching you, her eyes wide as she takes in the cupboards full of supplies.
You’re glad that you don’t need anything from the storeroom, keeping that door in the corner firmly closed. You want to trust her, want to trust them, but a feeling of unease still lingers at the thought of letting them know just how much you have.
Instead, you voice another question, a thought that fills you with unease as well.
“Hey,” you begin, keeping your eyes trained on the stove, “I’m sorry, but you and Joel, there– there isn’t anything weird going on, is there?”
“Like what?” She sounds slightly defensive, but when you steal a glance at her, she’s eyeing you with curiosity.
“I don’t know, like…” You shrug, stirring the mixture of water and oats, “you want to be here, he’s not forcing you to come with him or anything, right?”
“No, don’t worry about that,” comes her reply, almost amused. It was a bit of a stupid question, when you think about it, considering how worried she was about him last night, how protective.
“Okay,” you smile at her. You’re curious nonetheless, how they ended up together and where they’re headed, but it’s probably not really your place to ask.
You divide the porridge into three bowls and hand her one, while you carry yours and one for Joel back to the living area and set them down on the wooden table.
Ellie starts shoveling the food down immediately and you’re left wondering once more what happened to them and when they last ate something.
“So…” Ellie begins, her mouth still half full, “you’re just down here with all this food? Because your dad stored it here, before… things went to shit?”
You can’t blame her for her curiosity, you’re aware that you’ve probably found yourself in a better living situation than most people. Your thoughts go to the storeroom again, basically stuffed with enough supplies to last you multiple lifetimes, especially now that it’s just… No.
You hum in affirmation, not trusting your voice and you’re thankful that she’s too distracted by her breakfast to notice anything weird about your reaction.
“So you don’t go out hunting or anything?” comes her next question. You freeze.
You did go hunting, back when you cared about variance in the meals you prepared, about using fresh ingredients when you could. Until there was no need for that any more.
You realize that Ellie is saying your name, not for the first time, judging from the look on her face.
“Sorry,” you mumble, your hands tightening around the bowl. “No, I- I don’t go hunting.”
If she finds the situation weird, she shrugs it off impressively fast.
She nods to herself, eating quietly for a minute, before she speaks up again. “So what do you… do? Down here all day?”
“Uh…” What is it that you do all day? Time has been blurring together, days without anything happening repeating on a constant loop. You realize that you don’t remember, can’t talk of any activities that are part of your day. How long has it been like this?
You’re relieved from having to answer by Joel emerging from the bathroom, his face pale and his breaths going heavy. He has put on the sweatpants you gave him, but his torso is bare, the skin around the injury still an angry red.
He sinks back down into the cushions with a heavy sigh and you quickly get to work, cleaning the wound once more and giving him more antibiotics before you redo the bandages and hope for the best. Your hands don’t shake as badly as they did last night.
Ellie gets him some water and pushes his bowl of porridge into his hands, urging him to eat, before she turns to you. She’s trying to be strong, to hide her worry, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asks you if he’s gonna be okay tells a different story.
“Of course,” you say, giving her what you hope to be a reassuring smile.
Joel does look better after he’s eaten something, but his eyelids are drooping and after a few more minutes, his eyes close and his breath evens out. You do the dishes and check the cameras, calming down a bit more when you’re sure that everything seems to be quiet upstairs.
When you return to the living area, Ellie is rummaging through her pack, muttering to herself, until she pulls a book out of, proudly turning the cover for you to read it. No pun intended - Volume Too.
She starts reading them to you while you settle back down with a second cup of coffee and you share her laughs, enjoying the way it makes her look lighter, allows her to be a kid who can laugh at stupid jokes. You ignore the sting it causes in your chest because you once knew someone who would have loved this book just as much as Ellie does.
thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
#fic: safe and sound#janas fics#joel miller#ellie williams#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrostories
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Mirror, Mirror | One
Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.
Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.
*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*
Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬
Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘
Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3
Count: ~4.1k
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It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life.
Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.
'You have cancer.'
'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'
'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'
Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'
And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it.
This was all Steve's fault.
Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.
A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar.
"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.
"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway.
"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess.
Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together.
That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for.
Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself.
Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.
Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well.
Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.
But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.
"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts.
"What?"
"Bug—"
Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.
"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though."
"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"
Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.
"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."
Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.
But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about.
Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did.
In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly.
From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you.
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Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it.
It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her.
You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them.
But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type.
And what could that be?
Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to.
Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little.
Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career.
Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her.
So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.
Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason.
"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"
Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head.
"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."
"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."
You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"
"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."
You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."
Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning.
It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat.
It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her.
The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?
Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her.
"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."
"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!"
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Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying.
"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"
"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone.
"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.
"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs.
"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"
Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for.
"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it.
"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."
"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup.
"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."
"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."
You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear.
"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."
"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."
Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.
You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders.
Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain.
It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.
The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way.
"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."
You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."
Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.
Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?
And was she the only one who felt it?
Fuck.
She's going to kill Steve.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers.
Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed.
Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits.
"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."
"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap.
"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."
Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.
"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."
You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.
"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm.
"I heard that!"
Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him.
Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship.
"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."
"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"
"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"
Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."
"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it.
"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together.
"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."
"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."
"You think?"
Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."
"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."
But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight.
The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision.
Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.
You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.
Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.
In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda.
And you look interested.
This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.
Why was she so angry?
She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you.
But that just makes everything so much more confusing.
"Wanda?"
Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?
It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend.
No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.
Except now.
And that person was Wanda herself.
The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.
It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something.
And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is.
Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer.
This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.
Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information.
Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.
"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic.
At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.
"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"
You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.
"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."
But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?
Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset.
Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy.
"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.
"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly.
The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you.
"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."
Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.
"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.
"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile.
"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."
Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand.
But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.
Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist.
It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you.
But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you.
So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well.
If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.
PART TWO
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff x y/n#avengers imagine#scarlet witch imagine#scarlet witch x reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#modern avengers au#Elizabeth olsen x reader#mm: my fics
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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 (ꈍ��ꈍ)
“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”.
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Also going to finally make a pinned post for all my stuff:
BOGLEECH - my tumblr blog is named after this website I created around 2002 and still update. Thousands of pages worth of content focusing on creature design as well as real biology. My review of the original Legend of Zelda monsters might be the most straightforward example of my articles.
Links to some of the most popular content:
POKEMON REVIEW ARCHIVE: - I rate and review each and every single Pokemon, in Pokedex order, on its merits as a creature design. I also do so as someone whose favorite animals are all parasites.
DIGIMON REVIEW ARCHIVE - same, but more chaotic.
CREEPYPASTA COOKOFF ARCHIVE - for several years I hosted a yearly writing contest before it grew too big for me to keep up with. There are over a thousand user submitted horror, fantasy, sci fi and surrealist stories here emphasizing unconventional, original ideas you seldom see from the "creepypasta" community!
The original "MORTASHEEN" Monster Archive - since the early 2000's I've created and illustrated more than 800 creatures and counting for my own monster-catching world, now set for release as a tabletop RPG setting.
AWFUL HOSPITAL: SERIOUSLY THE WORST EVER (page one): an interactive comedy-horror-sci-fi webcomic I started in 2014 about a medical facility that could maybe be better.
Some of my other internet stuff:
PATREON - constant work makes my patreon updates inconsistent, but the content backlog goes back years with a huge amount of exclusive art and writing. I try to put up new exclusive stuff whenever I can.
ETSY - I design all sorts of original enamel pins like these, plus I sell zero-maintenance terrarium plants (just leave them in a jar!), original books and other things!
COLOR THE ABYSS (available on the above etsy!) - a 30 page educational deep sea coloring book! Includes a few famous favorites like giant isopods and hagfish, but mostly focuses on less popular, often much weirder animals.
UNBELIEVABLE BUGS - also regularly restocked in the etsy store, 30 of the strangest and most surprising arthropods most people have likely never heard of, illustrated by myself and @revretch, written for even the youngest kids to understand (but will likely teach you something new at any age)
My Itch.io and Ko-fi - both sell digital versions of my books, including some creepypasta collections and my first novel, "Return of the Living," about a world of entirely ghosts suddenly dealing with the appearance of ghost-hunting monsters.
TWITCH CHANNEL - I now try to stream something at least monthly, sometimes weekly when possible, from horror games to books and art.
YOUTUBE CHANNEL - archives my twitch streams and other little things.
INSTAGRAM - look at pictures of my huge weird collection of toys and Halloween collectibles
BLUESKY - I'm going to put mainly just updates to my stuff on here.
SEE ALSO:
HUMANS-B-GONE - a science fiction animated series by my partner @revretch, about a world of kaiju-size, technologically advanced insects and arachnids to whom vertebrates like us are just pesky little "gubs." Also has a tumblr account @humansbgone
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Set The World On Fire
Chapter Five
Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.
He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger
Mafia AU
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Series Masterlist
"I still can't believe he's actually taking me on a date," she said as she searched through her wardrobe for something to wear, her phone pressed to her ear.
Although she couldn't see it, her friend rolled her eyes. "Are you sure he's not gonna murder you and ditch your body in a... ditch?" She asked.
Y/N laughed. "I do know the guy. But, if my body is found in a ditch somewhere, you get all of my stuff," she said and pulled a nice top out of the wardrobe. Paired with some nice jeans, she could look pretty good, she thought as she looked in the mirror, holding the top against her body.
"I've got to go," her friend said. "Keep me updated through the date, okay? If he is a murderer, let me know."
They said their goodbyes and Y/N threw her phone onto her bed. She looked at herself in the mirror again, looked at how the top looked against her. Pretty good, she thought. She made light work of getting changed and started on hair and makeup.
At seven o'clock, Lando arrived at her house. His car was incredibly fancy, maybe to the point of overkill. He pulled the classic Porsche up outside of her apartment and climbed out.
Immediately he regretted it. Her neighbourhood wasn't exactly the nicest, he was so sure that somebody would steal it if they came across it.
Pulling his business card from his pocket, he left it on the dash for everybody to see. Just his name alone would scare anybody out of trying to steal it. He straightened his jacket and started up to her apartment.
Lando had the address memorised. He'd been there more than he liked to admit, watching over her apartment. Surely, if she'd lived somewhere a little nicer, he wouldn't be by her apartment every night, watching over her.
Who was he kidding? Lando was enamoured with her. Plus, him watching over her kept his mind off of his sister and it kept him away the club, where he was drinking far too much and doing whatever was dusted over the table.
He sucked in a breath and knocked on her door.
"Coming!" She shouted. She ran through her apartment as she attempted to put her earrings in. With the back of the earring between her lips, she pulled open the door. "Hey," she grinned, placing the back of the earring where it was supposed to be.
"You ready to go?" Asked Lando as he offered her his arm. She grinned and took his arm. Pulling her apartment door shut, she locked it and followed Lando down to his car.
His incredibly expensive classic Porsche.
She let out a low whistle as she stepped out of the apartment building. "Is that yours?" She asked. She knew Lando had serious money. Like, he owned his own strip club! What kind of guy owned his own strip club? Of course he'd have some crazy car.
Lando just offered her a smile as he pulled the door open for her. The car smelt incredible. It was hard to describe, but there was nothing that could beat the smell of a classic car. That mixed with Lando was amazing.
The engine rumbled to life. It sounded like a dream. She let out a low whistle as Lando pulled away from her apartment building, heading further into the city. "Is she yours?" She asked, patting the dashboard.
"My dad's," Lando answered. "But she'll be mine soon, I guess," he muttered under his breath.
"Are you sure you wanna park her in the city?" Asked Y/N, raising her eyebrows at him. "Something might... happen to her."
Lando shook his head. He pulled into a car park and, once again, left his business card on the dashboard before climbing out. "I'm not worried about that," he said and pushed the door shut.
Walking around to the other side, he opened the door for Y/N, took her hand and helped out of the car. "You're a weird guy," she muttered, but she was still wearing a smile.
"Thanks." He linked his hand with hers and led her away from the car park, towards the restaurant. Lando could have booked it out. He had that level of power around here. But he didn't want to scare her off, especially not before she joined him in Spain.
The dinner was rather uneventful. They talked and laughed like this wasn't a date, like they were just in the back room of his club. Lando ordered for the both of them, which she thought was a little strange, but she didn't mind. He had good taste.
(Actually, no. Lando rarely had good taste. His pallet was that of a child. He was putting on a brave face for this date).
"How about we get out of here?" He asked after they had finished the main course. The dessert was incredibly fancy and Lando wanted something less.
She grabbed her bag and reached for her purse. Lando held up his hand, halting her. "It's already been taken care of," He said with a grin.
The look she gave him with sceptical. "You're not like... a mob boss or something, are you?" She asked quickly.
The way Lando's heart was beating, shit he thought he was going to die. But then she laughed and he visibly relaxed. "I paid on the way in," he confessed (it didn't matter that it wasn't true).
They strode out of the cafe, arm in arm. Lando led the way out of the restaurant, towards a dessert shop. It was just around the corner, one that Lando's family owned the building to. He got them two thick milkshakes, incredibly unhealthy and topped with cream.
They sat in the park, drinking their milkshakes. The stars appeared above them and the air turned cold. "Here," Lando said as he took off his jacket and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and pulled it onto her body.
With the sleeves pulled over her hand, she held her milkshake and leaned against Lando. "You paid for everything tonight and I feel shitty," she mumbled against him.
Lando laughed. "Trust me, it's fine," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Just... thank you for agreeing to come to Spain with me next week."
Suddenly she pulled away from him, just enough that she could look at him. "Is this a thank you date, because I agreed to join you in Spain? Or is this a real date because you actually like me?" As nice of a gesture as it was, she didn't do thank you dates. Not when she had already caught feelings.
Lando shook his head. "It's not a thank you date, I swear," he said quickly. "I invited you to Spain because I actually like you. This date sounded like a good way to... start things off," he said.
She couldn't hide her grin. Leaning against him once again, she closed her eyes and let out a content sigh. "So, you could say that Spain will be our second date," she mumbled.
Lando kissed the top of her head.
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girls like girls (like boys do)
(reader x winter / reader x yunjin) smau series
you are the fifth member of aespa. one of the aces. loved by the public, the media, and even other idols. you were confident and assured in everything, except...your sexuality. you were so sure you were straight, just like a pin, until you met yunjin.
huh yunjin. a member of le sserafim. when she slips her number in your cookie at music bank, your whole life is thrown off balance. from that point on, she relentlessly tries to steal your heart, not knowing that winter was the one who set her eyes on it first.
kim minjeong has loved you ever since she met you, but she was so sure that you could never see her that way. she lets go of her feelings and chooses to be your best friend instead. that is, until yunjin tries to make you hers.
the three of you become locked in a triangle no one can escape. not without getting hurt that is.
- " i wanted her first. "
- " didn’t you ever hear second is the best, first is the worst? "
- " that’s not how that goes. "
STATUS - ongoing! not started yet but updates will come soon. my second smau so give me grace
TAGS - GAY GAY, 'unrequited' love (at first), fluff, pining, angsty a little bit i'm sorry, slow burn, slice of life, friends to enemies to friends to best friends to lovers (winter, most of this happens before but there will be flashbacks), strangers to lovers (yunjin), one bed trope hehe, fake dating, tipsy!yunjin, dorks in love, arguments, found family with aespa, !!! CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING !!!, think of it like a decision game where it branches out those two branches being either yunjin or winter
TAGS (PT2) - lesbian!winter, lesbian!yunjin, lesbian!reader, reader is clueless & indecisive, winter is bad with emotions and communication, she's trying her best, yunjin is the biggest flirt to ever exist, eventual winter and yunjin friendship (emphasis on the eventual), yunjin is annoying but in the best way possible, overthinker!yunjin, protective!winter, lots of fun guys
IDOLS FT. - yeonjun (txt), sunghoon (enha), jake (enha), aespa, le sserafim, yuqi (g-idle), tzuyu (twice) jihyo (twice), yeji (itzy), jeongin (skz), chaeryeong (itzy), other idol mentions most likely
CONTENT WARNING - sex jokes, alcohol, suggestive jokes, might have suggestive scenes nothing graphic and is sfw, too many pretty girls, swears, angst (sorry but only a little), very unserious sometimes, live a little, will update more later
TAGLIST - open! free! ready for whoever wants to be on it, just send me an ask
PROFILES ! — y/n's groupies | yunjin's haters | the idol club
I. FIRST ACT
music bank cookie
just me ()i-dle
canon event
room 312
exile
20 questions
oh okay
comfortable
so cute
on mine
is this your love affair?
i hate you
the jealous type
II. SECOND ACT
14. talk?
#yunjin#huh yunjin#winter#smau#kpop smau#winter x reader#yunjin x reader#aespa#aespa x fem reader#lesserafim x fem reader#lesserafim x reader#aespa x reader#txt#enha#lesserfim scenarios#aespa scenarios#karina x fem reader#gxg#aespa smau#kpop crack#aespa winter#kim minjeong x reader#smau series#aespa fanfic#lesserafim yunjin#kim chaewon#yoo karina#aespa imagines
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Seeking Forgiveness [Part Seven]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k
[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]
Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader
a/n: I have finally gotten this update up for y'all! It's been written and sitting waiting for over a month, but now that I'm not trying to write holiday fics (though I might still write that Owen Sleater one), it's back to business as usual! Feedback is always appreciated!
Fidgeting with the beer bottle between his fingers, Matt wasn't paying much attention to the room around him. Which said a lot about his current focus considering how loud Josie’s bar was this evening with the crowd that had filled the space tonight. He also wasn't paying any attention to the conversation Foggy and Karen had struck up a while ago at their table about a client they'd met with earlier today. Because despite the fact that Matt was currently sitting with the pair of them drinking back his beer, his attention was entirely elsewhere this evening.
On you a couple of blocks away in your apartment.
Admittedly there wasn’t very much that he could pick up on at this distance where he sat at Josie’s, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from trying to hear what he could–even if he knew he shouldn't be invading your privacy like this. It was already bad enough he always stopped by at the beginning and end of his patrols, always wanting to make sure things were alright. Though deep down he knew he kept doing it because he was desperate to feel connected to the pair of you somehow. He just couldn't seem to stay away despite that being what you seemed to want him to do.
His eyes narrowed in concentration behind the lenses of his glasses. It sounded like you were cleaning up whatever dinner you'd made in your kitchen, which made sense considering the hour. You usually ate around this time after work. As he listened to the faint sounds of dishes clinking together, he wondered what you’d made to eat tonight. You'd been craving pesto pasta like crazy but constantly kept forgetting to add the items to your grocery list. Something Matt only knew because of his new habit of lingering on your rooftop as Daredevil, not because you'd actually spoken to him recently and told him yourself. For which he kept chastising himself about doing, except he couldn't seem to stop eavesdropping.
Like right now.
Despite you making it clear you wanted nothing to do with him for the time being, he had tried calling you repeatedly in the hopes of finding a vastly healthier and less invasive way to stay connected with you, but you'd only answered once and it was to ask him to stop calling. You told him when you were ready to talk that you'd reach out to him. Which meant he hadn't tried to show up at your apartment as Matt Murdock, trying to respect your wishes. But that ultimately put him in a difficult position, because not communicating with you meant he couldn't prove himself to you–couldn’t prove how sorry he was for what he’d done. He'd been back and forth on that for the past two days, constantly feeling like the clock was ticking on him finding some way back into your life to show you that you and that baby were what he wanted.
An abrupt, loud snapping noise sounded directly in front of Matt’s face and he jumped in his chair, blinking rapidly a few times behind his glasses. The noise instantly had broken his concentration from his thoughts and your apartment, something that had taken him quite a few minutes to lock in on in the first place considering the distance.
“Matt, buddy, you in there?” Foggy asked.
Matt cleared his throat, forcing a smile onto his face at the sound of his friend's voice. Gradually and begrudgingly his attention and senses returned to the bar around himself.
“Yeah, sorry,” he replied. “Was just zoning out, I guess.”
“Thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Foggy solemnly asked.
“Kind of hard not to,” he muttered.
He felt Karen’s hand land gently on his shoulder before giving it a comforting squeeze. He glanced in her direction, sending the tense smile her way. Despite how much he'd screwed things up with you, and how much Foggy and Karen cared about you, they'd still been incredibly supportive of him. They'd even been understanding of his initial angry outburst at the office for which Matt had guiltily apologized for numerous times by now.
"She's doing alright," Karen assured him. "Though I'm guessing you already know that."
Matt ducked his head, awkwardly running a hand across his mouth as he felt the guilt burn within him. There was no point in denying it. You had to have already figured it out yourself when he'd left that stuffed narwhal at your apartment after you'd gone back to sleep the other night. It wasn't as if he'd expected that to make you feel any differently about him, but he hoped you knew that he was still here. Still around. Still thinking about the both of you. Still wanting the both of you.
"Yeah, I stop there at night," Matt admitted awkwardly. "Not for long," he lied, "just enough to know things are alright. That she doesn't need anything. And to uh…hear the heartbeat."
Truthfully it had become his new favorite sound, even more than the beat of your own familiar heart. It was muffled but strong, faster than the usual heartbeats he heard all day long.
"Have you tried just showing up?" Foggy asked curiously. "You know, the way people usually do, not the way you usually do? Just to see what would happen?"
Matt shrugged, shifting in his chair. "I've thought about it," he answered. "I'm just always torn between respecting her boundaries and wanting to show her that I'm still here for her. That I want to be. But I'm always afraid if–” he paused, wincing as the thought crossed his mind. “I'm afraid if I do, it'll only upset her more. Push her away from me even further.”
Karen hummed in thought beside Matt. The sound caught his attention, his head tilting a bit to the side towards her. The noise almost sounded like one of disagreement.
“What?” Matt asked.
“I think,” Karen began carefully, “that she's actually a bit conflicted.”
Matt's attention focused entirely on Karen now as he straightened in his chair. His brows rose up curiously onto his forehead, eager for her to elaborate.
“Conflicted?” he asked curiously. “Conflicted how? About what? Me?”
“Yes,” Karen answered with a faint nod. “I mean she obviously still loves you, Matt. That doesn't just disappear overnight. Ideally I think she'd want you to be raising the baby with her from the way she talks. Going through all of this with her. But she's still hurt. And she's scared. And she, well, obviously still doesn't believe her and the baby would be a priority to you.”
Matt twisted in his seat, fully facing Karen. “So what're you saying?” he pressed.
He heard the way the air shifted as Karen shrugged beside him. Her lip suddenly caught between her teeth where she lightly chewed it for a moment. The pause was killing Matt, his hand tightening around the neck of his beer bottle.
“I'm saying I think you should find an excuse and show up at her place,” Karen eventually replied. She held up a finger as she quickly amended, “As Matt, not you-know-who. Don't push her boundaries, just show up long enough to show her you're still here, like you’ve been wanting to do. That you're not giving up. I think she needs that more than she's letting on to you. Maybe…find some sort of way to show her you're trying to be a supportive future father and partner.”
“Okay,” Matt mused, running a frustrated hand through his hair and mussing it as his thoughts began to race. “Okay,” he repeated. “So don't show up with apology flowers. Noted.”
“No, but maybe bring her something else that might help her,” Karen suggested lightly. “Something that might be useful during her pregnancy. To show her you're serious about things with her and the baby.”
“Oh!” Foggy exclaimed, excitedly slapping a hand to the table. “Like an excuse to just show up and see her because you're dropping something off!”
Matt sighed deeply, swiveling back around in his seat. He leant his elbows onto the uneven wooden table as he began to rub his palms together in thought. What could he possibly bring you that might be useful for your pregnancy? Something you might actually be grateful for and need? That wouldn't make you curse him from daring to darken your apartment door?
This was something he'd have to give some thought to tonight.
Willing your mind to quiet, you lay on your side beneath the sheets of your bed which you'd tugged up to your chin. It was a little after one in the afternoon and you'd been hoping to take a brief nap after lunch, something you couldn't do during the weekdays because of work. Your body usually wanted to give up once this time of day hit, probably partly because of pregnancy fatigue but also because you hadn't been sleeping well lately.
It was damn near impossible to get comfortable when you laid down even though your stomach wasn't quite that large yet. But the hormones in your body responsible for relaxing your muscles and ligaments during pregnancy were also responsible for the fact that sleeping on your side killed your hips and knees far more than side sleeping ever had in the past. You didn't just wake up to pee or possibly vomit now, sometimes you just ached horribly and couldn't find a comfortable position to sleep in. Which often led to your mind racing and keeping you awake for part of the night.
Truth be told though, everything on your body hurt lately. You often had headaches–another perk of early pregnancy–along with constant back and hip pain. Your breasts were still quite sensitive and tender, too. The one bright spot through it all this week had been an appointment you had coming up with your obstetrician. The one where you could get your blood drawn and in another week or so, you'd know whether your little devil would be a boy or a girl. It had been on your mind all week, your excitement barely contained and adding to your inability to sleep.
Trying to push the thought of the baby's sex from your mind, you squeezed your eyes a bit tighter shut. The light from the sunny afternoon was still slipping in past your blinds, making your room almost too bright. The sounds of the city traffic bustling below your apartment weren't helping right now, either.
But it was an unexpected knock at your apartment door that had your eyes inevitably flying back open.
Raising your head from the pillow hesitantly, you blinked hard a few times. You hadn't been expecting anyone to stop by today. Brows knitted together, you pushed the sheets off of yourself and ran a hand over your eyes. Moving slowly along the bed, you gradually pushed yourself upright and set your feet on the floor, noticeably moving slower than if you hadn't been almost eleven weeks pregnant.
Rising to your feet, you sluggishly made your way out of your bedroom and down the hall. Stopping in front of your door, you undid the locks before turning the handle and pulling it open. The sight of Matt standing before you in one of his fitted tee-shirts with an awkward smile on his face took you by surprise. Your eyes widened as you felt your own pulse increase at the unexpected appearance of him. Gaze dropping down, you saw he was carrying an almost comically large shopping bag in his left hand.
“Matt, what are you doing here?” you asked, one hand gripping the door tighter. “I thought I–I asked you to give me space for now?”
“Yes, you did,” he replied awkwardly, that smile on his face growing more nervous. “But I…I really don't want to stay away because I was still hoping you could give me a chance. To prove how sorry I am.”
Shoulders dropping at his words, you lightly blew out a breath. “Matt–”
“Hear me out, please,” he begged, cutting you off.
An earnest look crossed his face as his dark brows drew together above his glasses. Lips pressing together, you released the door from your grip and crossed your arms over your chest.
“Fine, talk,” you demanded.
“Look, I–I know you want me to stay away,” he began in a rush, as if he was afraid that you wouldn't give him enough time to explain himself before you slammed the door in his face. “And I want to respect that, I do. But I can't walk away from the both of you. I can't . I won't abandon my child and I won't abandon you. I want to prove how sorry I am to you, sweetheart. I want to prove that you can depend on me, that I want this. Because I do.”
“Matt, I already told you that I'd let you have a relationship with your child,” you reminded him. “I'm not telling you to abandon them.”
He shook his head quickly, his hand readjusting on the plastic bag he was holding. It crinkled loudly in his grip and briefly caught your eye again, making you wonder what the hell was in the bag. But when he spoke again, your attention returned to his face.
“You might not see it that way,” Matt countered, still shaking his head, “but to me it's no different. And I won't walk away from you or my own child.” His face grew more solemn as he added softly, “You know me, sweetheart. You know how I grew up, how it affected me. All I'm asking is that you just…just give me a chance to make amends. I made a massive mistake and I hurt you. I was an asshole and I want to fix things. So just…can you at least consider giving me that chance? Please?”
Inhaling a deep breath, your eyes scanned over his anxious, pleading face. Your heart had dropped in your chest the second he'd mentioned his past. Because of course you knew how Matt had felt abandoned by what his father had done, willingly going and getting himself killed when he won that fight instead of losing it which ultimately left Matt alone in the world. You also knew how he'd formed a bond with Stick, his mentor who'd abandoned him the moment Matt displayed his care for the man. You also knew about his toxic relationship–the only other he'd ever had–where his ex had abandoned him because he wouldn't kill his father's murderer. And then of course, you knew how much pain he'd felt when he learned that his mother had been a nun at the orphanage he grew up in, making him feel unwanted because he'd only accidentally overheard the truth as a grown man years later.
Matt Murdock struggled with feeling unloved and unwanted because of his abandonment issues from almost every important figure in his life. And now he was afraid he'd be condemning this child to a similar trauma. The thought of that caused your heart to twist tight in your chest.
“I'll think about it,” you answered quietly.
“Thank you,” Matt replied in relief, his expression visibly relaxing.
Your eyes dropped back down to the large bag in his hand, your head tilting to the side as you curiously studied it. Matt let out a nervous huff of a laugh as he shifted on his feet. He extended the bag out towards you and your brows jumped up onto your forehead.
“I uh, I brought you something,” Matt said, his tone returning awkward.
For a moment you just stared at the bag in his outstretched hand, unsure what to make of him bringing you anything right now. Slowly and hesitantly you reached out, grasping onto the handles of the bag. Though you let out a surprised gasp when Matt let go and the weight of its contents startled you, almost causing you to drop it entirely. Your other hand darted out, grabbing onto the bag and catching it before it could slip from your grasp. Drawing it towards yourself, you peered inside.
“It's a pregnancy pillow and a weighted blanket,” Matt explained, running his now free hand across the back of his neck. “I know you have had trouble sleeping lately and I thought they'd help. The weighted blanket should help relax you and the–the pregnancy pillow should help with body pain and the weight of your belly when you're farther along. I actually spent a while researching them. Who knew there were so many shapes?” He chuckled nervously, his hand still rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured this one would work the best for how you sleep–or, how I remember you always sleeping, at least.”
Your jaw dropped as you stared back at Matt, the heavy bag still held in your hands. While the gift was thoughtful and sweet, there was only one explanation as to why he'd brought these particular items which were meant to help you sleep, especially when you'd had a hard time doing exactly that lately.
“Have you been spying on me again, Matt?” you questioned in disbelief.
He hung his head immediately, his shoulders dropping at the accusation. You already knew the answer before he even said a word and your mouth fell open wider.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't,” he apologized shamefully. “I know I shouldn't. But I mainly just check in first thing when I go out at night and–and then once more before I go home. To make sure you're safe and alright because I worry. And I–” he broke off, nervously chewing his bottom lip. “I like to listen to the baby's heartbeat,” he confessed quietly.
Something about the way he'd admitted that last bit had disarmed you. That wasn't what you expected him to say and you momentarily felt your heart soften to him. But your upset about him eavesdropping on you soon washed back over you again, your hands curling tight around the bag.
“I don't like that, Matt,” you warned him. “That makes me uncomfortable knowing my ex is listening in to whatever I'm doing in here and I don't know about it.”
Matt nodded solemnly in response. “I understand, I do. I'll try my best to refrain, but if something brings me nearby at night I…admittedly have a hard time not picking up on things.” He shrugged faintly, his covered gaze still downcast. “I'm just tuned into you and it's sort of a habit by now after how much time we've spent together.”
An awkward silence settled over the both of you at his explanation, the pair of you standing there wordlessly. You weren't about to invite Matt inside–especially not after just learning that –but you could also tell he clearly didn't want to go, either. Though after a moment he shifted his weight between his feet before he glanced up in your direction once again. His lips were twisted downwards at the corners, guilt and sadness barely hidden on his face. You fought to ignore the urge to draw him into a hug at the sight.
“I'll let you go, I can tell my visit isn't exactly what you want, but can you think about what I asked?” he questioned. “About giving me a chance to prove myself?”
Blowing out a breath, you slowly nodded. “I'll think about it,” you told him softly, “but I'm not making any promises, Matt.”
He shot you a tense smile, nodding his head once as he took a step back into the apartment building hallway. Something tugged at your heart knowing he was leaving, but you quickly tried to ignore that feeling, too.
“Hope those help,” he murmured, briefly gesturing to the bag.
Without another word, Matt turned and made his way down the hallway and back towards the elevator at the far end, his cane tapping lightly along the floor. You watched his retreating form for a moment before you forced your eyes away. You didn't know quite what to make of his surprise visit.
Closing the door of your apartment, you locked it again before dragging the heavy bag back to your bedroom. You were still tired and had every intention of attempting that nap despite the unexpected interruption, and admittedly you were curious about the items Matt had brought you. Would they actually help you fall asleep?
It was a few minutes before you'd managed to unpackage the incredibly soft, gray weighted blanket and spread it over your bed. You'd put the pregnancy pillow up on the bed underneath the blanket afterwards before you'd climbed up onto the mattress and slipped beneath the blanket. Immediately you wrapped your legs around the pillow and snuggled up to it, feeling the pain in your hips instantly lessen in this position. You sighed in relief, letting your eyelids gently drop as you felt the weight of the blanket relaxing you, just as Matt had claimed it would.
With a soft, contented hum, you nuzzled into your pillow and felt that wave of exhaustion begin to overtake you. But as you lay there waiting for sleep, you couldn't help but imagine it was the weight of Matt's arms wrapped around you, comfortably sinking you further into the mattress. And if you kept your eyes closed and tried hard enough, you could imagine it was Matt's thick thigh that your legs were wrapped around, wedged between yours just like you'd slept many nights in the past with him.
Which was how you finally found yourself drifting comfortably to sleep–imagining you were safe in Matt’s arms, the place you so desperately missed being.
Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this-is-music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71 @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things
[Some tags aren't working, I never fully know why. If I've misspelled yours, please feel free to let me know! Otherwise it's just tumblr being a pain and not tagging for unknown reasons because this always happens. I'm sorry!]
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basement noise * fem!driver
logan starts to feel a little left out
pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver
notes: hey surpRISE AND EARLY UPDATE WAHOOOO i'm trying to finish up her 2023 year before i start moving onto her 2024 season <3
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
logan stares at the unanswered text message in their group chat, clicking his tongue as he glances at the time at the corner of his phone screen. it’s been an hour since he sent his text message.
he’s not saying his friends are ignoring him, but it is slowly starting to seem that way. his call time to the paddocks isn’t as early as theirs and that’s why they’ve arrived way before him.
he sighs. since the season had begun, it hasn’t been easy to integrate himself into the grid unlike his two other friends. oscar’s gotten along with lando and is doing great with his team. meanwhile she’s done exceptionally well, and even if she wasn’t, max and some of the older drivers seem to have taken quite the liking to her.
which shouldn’t be all that surprising to him. she had already found herself a new group of friends even before the season had started. from the kickstart of the pre-season testing, max had already paraded her around like he was a proud older brother.
sure, he has alex. by default. because they are teammates. but realistically, alex will always find himself preferring george’s company to his. they’re best friends, after all.
logan presses his lips together as the team car slowly comes to a stop right outside the paddocks. he glances at benny, focused on his own phone, texting his wife.
so he just keeps to himself as he alights the car. hopefully, he’s kept busy enough this weekend not to notice the distance that might go unnoticed by his friends, but is very prominent for him.
just as he walks through the gantries into the paddocks, he watches the smaller girl walk past him unknowingly, engaged in serious conversations with marta and susie. she’s turned the other way, so she doesn’t even notice him.
when he approaches the livelier areas of the paddocks, noticing oscar walking around with lando. oscar does notice him, smiling at him politely before he makes a sharp turn into the mclaren garage.
logan just sighs again, navigating his way to the williams garage with a weight in his chest.
“i’ll see you again later before your race! i promise!” she shouts, waving her arms in the air as she leaves susie and marta. she runs through the paddocks, truthfully unaware of where she is heading.
when sebastian had asked her to meet him somewhere, it could be anywhere in the paddocks. it could very easily well be at the aston martin home where fernando is hanging out, or their own.
she feels around in her pockets for her phone, halting in the middle of the crowd. she turns around, ready to chase susie to ask if she’d left her phone in her office by chance. but she can vividly remember where she left it in her driver’s room right before she bolted out, late for a lunch date with some of the drivers from the f1 academy.
she clicks her tongue, picking up her feet to start running again. she hears max calling out for her but she’s late, from what she can tell.
if only she was better at restraining herself from staying extra minutes just to hear the latest paddock gossip over lunch. but she couldn’t help herself as she increasingly got invested, giggling in her mind about how she’s going to tell logan everything in the evening when they leave the paddocks to get ice cream.
she arrives at the aston martin home, chest heaving as she approaches the one person loitering outside the building. “lance!”
the canadian whirls around at the call of his name with wide eyes, shocked that the younger girl is calling for him. yes, he is terrified of her, but that’s a story for another time.
“yes?”
“has my race engineer been kidnapped by your grandpa?” she asks, hands on her hips and slightly hunched over as she tries to catch her breath.
“my,” lance takes a deep breath, “grandpa?”
“fernando. has fernando kidnapped my race engineer? he told me to meet him, but i don’t know where.”
lance presses his lips into a thin line. “have you tried texting him?”
she sighs, shaking her head. “no, i left my phone in my room. i don’t have the time to go and get it.”
“oh!” lance perks up, reaching into his back pocket and offers it to her. “here, you can use my phone.”
she mutters a soft thank you as she takes the phone into her hands, navigating lance’s contact list. she raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “you saved my number as grid princess? really?”
“we all have your number saved as that.”
“i-“ she shakes her head, finding for the number she needs. “not important.”
she presses the phone to her ear as it rings, hoping that sebastian answers his phone. hopefully he’s not as forget as her.
“lance?”
“no.”
“you sound different, lance.”
“seb! it’s me! i left my phone in my room.”
“oh, (y/n)!” there’s a pause. “why are you using lance’s phone?”
“i can’t find you,” she mutters, shaking her head in shame as lance watches her. “tell me where you are or i’ll be even later for our meeting. was it over a cup of coffee or what?”
“coffee. come quick.”
“come on, mate.” logan stares at alex blankly, watching the older driver tug at his hand towards the door of his room. “you’ve got to join us for a snack. george is buying food.”
“i don’t feel like eating,” logan mutters, retracting his arm immediately. he lies on the massage table of his room, moving his hand under his head. “go without me.”
“i can’t!” alex frowns. “your best friend told me to take care of you. i can’t grab food and leave you here by yourself.”
logan shrugs. “if you’re only inviting me because she told you to, i don’t wanna go.”
“what?” alex tilts his head. “no, george asked me to bring you! we’re sneaking out of the paddocks for a bit to get food! come on! the local food here is amazing.”
“i don’t want to go.”
“logan.”
“alex?”
“i’m telling james you’re locking yourself inside your room again. he won’t be happy.”
logan looks at alex without moving his head, the glare shooting daggers at the older driver. alex raises his eyebrows with a small smile, never having seen this emotion in the rookie.
“i don’t care if you tell him.”
“fine, be that way,” alex sighs dejectedly. he doesn’t want to use more names as a bargaining chip, but it seems that he will have to resort to exactly that. “i’ll just tell oscar and (y/n) you’re being like this.”
logan scoffs, dropping his phone by his head. he breathes out exasperatedly and rolls to lie on his back. “as if they’d care.”
alex, already halfway to the door, stops in his tracks and turns around. “mate,” he trails off softly, “what do you mean by that?”
“it’s so obvious,” logan sighs again, turning to face the wall. “she’s always with max or whoever. i’m alone.”
“i’m here with you right now.”
logan furrows his eyebrows. that’s not what he means. alex probably knows that too. “i just wanna be alone right now, alex. i’m sorry.”
“oh, okay. i’ll bring you something back.”
logan turns around quickly, chasing for alex’s presence. “alex, wait.”
alex turns around just as before he is able to close the door. he’s hopeful that logan would join him and george for some food — the rookie often spending time with his two best friends means that he doesn’t get many opportunities to get to know him outside of team content and meetings.
“don’t tell them i said that, okay?” he sighs before looking down to avoid the curious brown eyes. “i don’t want them knowing i feel that way.”
alex hums. sometimes he sees his younger self in the rookie. the rookie’s often introverted demeanour makes it very easy to sympathise with him, especially when he had a rough couple of years in another team all by himself. he knows what it feels like.
perhaps what logan needs is space. hopefully he opens up soon, and then alex can finally put his mind to rest with some reassurance. because it’s not like his performance is helping him out with his confidence. he’s been there, done that.
“okay,” alex nods. “your secret’s safe with me.”
lando hums, looking around the paddocks. his eyes lands on his teammate, who is simply staring off blankly at the grandstand as he chews away on his sandwich.
“what?” oscar asks monotonously, still looking ahead with his eyes half open. he’s sunk into the small seat situated at the edge of their garage with his leg over the other. “i can feel you looking at me, mate. what is it?”
“oh,” lando says softly, chuckling to himself. he sinks into his own seat and turns away to take a bite from his own sandwich. “nothing. i was just wondering where dumb and dumber are.”
he sees oscar perk up with realisation, turning to look at him slowly. his eyebrows are furrowed at the sheer realisation of what’s been missing the entire day. he lets out a soft “ah” before he turns to look at the grandstand again. “i don’t actually know. we’ve been so busy today — i hadn’t even noticed.”
the older driver laughs, nodding along. “yeah, we only get busier from here, mate. i haven’t texted max back still. actually, i don’t even know where my phone is.”
oscar laughs, licking his lips. “neither do i. i barely even got to have a 5 minute phone call with lily this morning. i had to leave so early.”
“just one more interview and we’re free,” lando sighs, shaking his head. truthfully, he’s grown quite tired too. for someone like him, running out of energy to be talking to everyone doesn’t come often. but it feels like the day is finally getting the best of him.
he’s simply dreading the next interview they’ve got. he doesn’t know how many more fake laughs and forced smiles he’s got within himself. he doesn’t want to do small talk anymore. he just wants to head back to the hotel and get some sleep for what friday has to bring them.
“getting ice cream with the powerpuff girls tonight?”
oscar laughs with a simple nod. “of course. she’s not going to let a weekend by where we don’t try some local ice cream.”
“alright, good meeting,” sebastian grins at her, slowly closing his laptop. “so you know what to do this weekend, kid? confident you’ll score some points?”
“of course,” she laughs with a small nod. “i’m ready to tackle the weekend.”
sebastian stands up, holding the laptop against his chest. “good! so, where are you headed to now?”
she smiles. “hopefully off to take a shower and start getting ready for my ice cream date with the boys.”
“ah! exciting,” sebastian grins. “well i’ve got one more meeting. you’ll be okay on your own?” she nods. “okay, well, if you leave before my meeting ends, let me know, alright?”
“of course!” she beams with a grin. she spots a familiar shade of blue across the paddocks, beaming when she spots logan in the crowd of williams personnel. she tries to push past sebastian, who’s now opening the door, and attempts to dart out to stop logan for a quick conversation to confirm their ice cream date that evening. before she can make it to the top of the steps, another familiar face pops up in front of her with a wide smile.
sebastian greets max before quickly excusing himself, leaving the girl with the older driver. “hi?”
“hi!” max greets her with an excited wave. “are you busy? i need your help.”
she opens her mouth, deciding her answer as she peeks over his shoulder. she answers with a soft ‘yeah’ as she watches the crowd of blue walking away and disappearing from her sight. “what is it?”
“we’re going to the uk for a vacation this summer and p’s coming along with us. i wanna plan something — she really wants to meet you.”
logan sighs to himself, leaning up against the railing of the stairs leading up to the andretti racing home. he looks around the paddocks and then glances down at his phone for the time. everybody is late. could it be possible that plans were cancelled without him knowing?
could it be that her and oscar agreed to call raincheck without remembering to let him know? which would them simply confirm his suspicions that he is slowly losing his best friends.
but there’s no other time but tonight to get ice cream together. unless she’s planning to get it with somebody else? he huffs to himself and pushes himself off the railing to start his journey back to his hotel room for a lonely night. that was, until he hears a voice calling out to him.
“oh, logan! are you waiting for her? why don’t you come in and sit down while you wait?” sebastian smiles, letting the door close behind him. he walks down the steps, immediately noticing the sadder aura around the boy.
sure, he knows that logan is typically soft spoken by himself, but he believes that he knows logan well enough now that he is comfortable being himself. “is something wrong? the media picked you apart again today, kid?”
logan looks up and quickly shakes his head. he rubs the back of his neck and hisses softly. “no, it’s not that,” he laughs sheepishly, trying to ignore the heavy weight on his chest. “have my plans been cancelled, seb? did i not know?”
maybe he should try opening up to sebastian? if anyone knows what it’s like falling out with a friend, sebastian is definitely one of those people, right?
he watches sebastian process his words. he immediately regrets opening up to him. “ah, forget it.”
“no, no! i’m glad you’re opening up to me,” sebastian snaps out of his trance and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “i’m not judging you. i get it. are you feeling okay?”
logan shrugs with a soft frown. “i don’t know. just a little weird — my text in the group chat from this morning’s still unanswered.”
sebastian stares at him, trying to come up with the words to try and make him feel better. until it hits him. “oh! is that what you’re concerned about?” sebastian laughs, pulling logan into his side for a hug. “she wasn’t ignoring you! she left her phone in her driver’s room and never had the time to go back in to get it. we were riddled with interviews and meetings all day. then max hijacked her early in the evening to plan something with penelope.”
logan looks at him, skeptism written all over his face. “are you serious?”
“i’m serious, kid,” sebastian confirms with a firm nod. “and i ran into oscar and lando earlier. they were super busy too. oscar even told me he can’t wait to finally sit back and relax with you guys at the ice cream parlour.”
as if on cue, oscar pops up from the corner of the racing home with his bag lazily strung over his shoulder. “why are you guys hugging?”
sebastian frowns. “what’s wrong with that?”
oscar shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “nothing, i suppose.” he rubs his eyes and groans. “i’m just a little tired, probably. i can’t wait to get some ice cream.”
logan feels the weight slowly lifting from his chest. logan slumps his shoulders slightly with a grin. he tries to confirm sebastian’s allegations. “i haven’t seen you all day, mate. busy day?”
“busiest i’ve had in a while,” oscar yawns, covering his mouth. “i haven’t even gotten to talk to lily at all today.”
the door swings open with a loud shriek, their body suddenly knocked back by a body throwing itself against them. he looks down in shock at the smaller girl who has her arms thrown around his and oscar’s bodies. “hey!”
she hops back excitedly, hair pulled back into a new hairstyle. “ice cream?” she nods excitedly at logan and then she turns to oscar, repeating the question.
oscar throws his head back with a laugh. he wraps an arm around her shoulder, and smiles. “of course. i’ve been looking forward to ice cream with you guys all day.”
sebastian finally steps away from him with a small smile and a thumbs-up. he returns the gesture, his warm smile finally putting the older man at ease. it would be a shame to watch a friendship as genuine and great as theirs fall apart. as much as he can, he would like to make sure that their authenticity never ever leaves them.
“come on! i wanna go and walk around town after we get ice cream,” she shrieks, reaching out to pull logan along with her. she glances at sebastian. “would you like to join us, seb?”
sebastian laughs, politely declining her offers. “i just want to take a nap after the day we’ve had.”
she nods, wrapping an arm around logan’s torso as they start to walk to the exit of the paddocks. “which one of you’s driving tonight? cause it’s definitely not me.”
“i’ll drive,” logan nods willingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a soft squeeze. “i heard you left your phone in your room all day. how’d you survive being apart from your phone for that long?”
she throws her head back with a groan. “barely! i can’t believe i went the whole day without chatting with you guys!”
oscar scoffs. “clingy.”
taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @inejismywife @2bormaybenot @love4lando
#logan sargeant x reader#oscar piastri x reader#sebastian vettel x reader#fem!driver#female driver#f1 fem!driver#f1 female driver#vettel reincarnate#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#disneyprincemuke vr#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#f1 grid x reader
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don’t delete the kisses - part 8/?
landing page
a camboy!steve au
this installment contains: more smut!! more bonding!! more cute shit!!; camboy!steve; reader with a vagina; ‘princess’ is used in reference to reader once; oral (reader receiving); slight bit of orgasm denial; steve tryna be a s*gar d*ddy; caring steve <3 like steve literally getting off on taking care of u 🫶🏻
though this is written as part of a series, it can be read as a standalone fic!
author’s note: we back gang 🫶🏻 i hope you enjoy this installment! i have a lot more ideas now of where i can take this au so excited to continue it :) and hopefully i will update it before 10 more months pass lmao
You assume, based on the way light filters in through your curtains, that it’s a little after 6 am.
And Steve’s still here.
He’s curled up into your side. Hotter than a radiator but you never move away from him. Not even when you’re sweating from the proximity - of being near him, of holding him when he’s sleeping, vulnerable.
You can still feel the ache he left between your thighs.
You’d stayed up for a while just talking. Admiring. It wasn’t supposed to be a sleepover. But when Steve fell asleep halfway through talking about winning his senior year basketball championship, you couldn’t possibly find it in your heart to wake him up. And at some point in the night his lonely fingers found your side and they haven’t left since.
Robin was right. He does snore.
You’re too wound up to fall back asleep. It feels like something life changing just happened and you’re not sure how to feel about it. What’s he going to say when he wakes up? What if he regrets it? And that cold, terrified grip holds on to your chest, heartbeat quickening.
Steve moans a little behind you. Not like how he sounded last night. It’s innocent, tired, small. His arm pulls you in tighter and then he props himself up to stare at the side of your face.
You look over your shoulder at his messy hair, the little bit of scruff that grew in over his top lip overnight.
“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, laying back down, pulling you in even closer. He kisses the junction of your shoulder and neck sweetly, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your ribcage.
You have to swallow an elated squeal.
“Why’re you up?” his voice is deep, hoarse.
You smile, pushing back into him. “You were snoring.”
He tickles you - well, tries to with his sleepy hands. “I don’t snore.”
“Okay.”
Steve giggles - a sound you’ve never heard in your life, one you’d like to cherish forever - and tucks his chin over your shoulder. “You okay?”
You melt into his touch. Sweat beads at your hairline but you don’t mind. “Mhm.”
He sounds a little more concerned when he asks, “You sure?”
“I promise.” You find his hand under the cover and lace your fingers through his. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He sighs, relieved. “Me, too.”
You’re almost positive he’s fallen back to sleep. His breaths even, get a little shallow. But then he talks again. “Can y’sleep?”
“Think I might just be awake,” you whisper. “But you can keep sleeping.”
“I’m up.”
You hum. “I’m not convinced.”
He rolls you over until you’re on your back, then props himself up above you. One hand finds your cheek and his sleepy eyes search yours for just a moment before he kisses you.
You have never cared less about morning breath.
It’s like he’s touching you for the first time again. All tender and reserved. His thumb swipes across your hot cheekbone and he presses his nose against yours when he pulls back. “Could a sleepy guy do that?”
You’re left a little speechless. You wish you had something funny and clever to say but you’re simply just enamored staring up at his soft face.
Steve looks like he’s thinking for a second, then says, “I can do more, you know.”
“I’m very aware.”
“You want somethin’?” His hand moves down your torso and rests at your hipbone, giving it a little squeeze. “You did all the work last night.”
You feel just as you did last night - excited, scared, sick, overjoyed, ache-y. “That’s not true,” you breathe.
Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I don’t mind doing the work.”
You’re entranced. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your hips and he waits for you to say something, looking shy himself. You lick your lips subconsciously. “I don’t mind you doing the work, either.”
He grins and you feel so stupid. But he doesn’t give you a single moment to think of something better to say.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly. “I’d do anything for you. Anything you wanted.”
You nod dumbly.
He smiles a little, raising a brow slightly. “What do you want right now, sweetheart?”
You’re looking at his lips and yeah, you want those. You want those in so many places. And that tongue - a ribbon of arousal tightens in your stomach. “I want you.”
“I know you can do better than that,” he coos, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You want what?”
You can’t speak, so you reach up and tap his lips with your fingers. Your face heats up when he kisses them. “You want my mouth?”
You nod. “Please?”
He kisses them again. “Where do you want it?”
You swallow hard and spread your legs. Last night was intense but this is something else. It’s six in the morning for Christ’s sake. And he looks like he just walked out of a porn shoot.
“Down here?” he asks, finally tucking his thumb into the waistband of your underwear. “Need my mouth on this pretty pussy?”
“Please?” you repeat. You can hardly hear yourself.
Your fingers slide away from his lips as he moves down the bed, throwing the covers to the side for a good look at you. You just about die at the sight of him, hair messy and still so perfect, naked shoulders broad, biceps flexing as he props himself up. “Help me out, huh, baby?”
You lift your hips for him to slide your underwear off. He places them neatly beside you on the bed, pats them twice with a wink. Whatever that means. You laugh, taking a moment to soak in the boy below you with his charm and gleaming eyes and freckles.
And then he parts your legs.
Your breaths hitch at the same time.
The air is cold on your center and you know you’re soaked. Embarrassingly so. But Steve is either indifferent or very much into it, because he says nothing, chestnut eyes trained on your core.
“This okay?” he asks, tearing his eyes away and blinking up at your face.
You nod vigorously. “Yeah, Steve.”
He turns his head to the side to kiss the inside of your thigh. It tickles. “Can you tell me what you want, please?”
You swallow hard, hands finding purchase on the sheets beneath you. “I want you to eat me out, Steve.”
He smiles softly and kisses up your thighs slowly. Occasionally he’ll press open-mouthed kisses to the skin, watching you squirm while he slots himself between them. “Want to know a secret?”
You want to know them all. Every last one. “Mhm.”
“I’ve cum thinking about having you like this before.” Another open-mouthed kiss. “All to myself.” Another. “Tasting how sweet you are, feeling you cum on my tongue.”
You’re more than breathless.
“Thought about it when recording. Had to grit my teeth to not moan your name.”
You listen attentively, burning up.
“And I thought about it at work sometimes,” he admits sheepishly. “About bending you over… eating you out behind the counter… and then I’d come home, set up my camera, and jerk off to it.”
You’re panting by now, his soft lips inching closer and closer to where you need him. You must be making a mess on your bed.
“So, if you think you’re a perv….”
He takes a moment to suck a hickey into your thigh and you finally whine, worked up to a boiling point.
“I thought about - about it, too.”
“Yeah?” Steve sounds hopeful. He readjusts himself below you. Wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs, planting you in place.
It feels a little bit like you’re on a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop.
“I’ve thought about everything with you.”
Inexplicably, Steve’s eyes both brighten and darken at once.
“I’ll give everything to you.”
It’s the most romantic goddamn thing anyone’s ever said to you, and a second later he’s eating your cunt like it’s his last meal.
“Oh -!” you gasp, hips jerking up. His strong arms hold you in place, keeps you still while he licks slowly up and down your folds. His tongue, hot and wet and thick, soothes the ache where he worked you open last night. Your head sinks into your pillow, unfocused eyes staring up at the pale blue light on your ceiling. “Oh …!”
“Mhm,” he hums, licks so slow it almost kills you. Your clit throbs, hole clenching, desperate for his affections again. He pulls away, just for a moment, chin already slick and eyes the color of coffee. “You taste so good.”
Steve’s lips wrap around your folds and he sucks. You gasp and arch your back but Steve pins you down again. He isn’t keen on letting you get away from the worship you deserve. He pulls back to look at you again, at your glistening cunt and pleasure-dazed eyes. “Oh, sweetheart. Hold on.”
And his hands reach upwards from where they’re tucked under you. You reach for them, letting your hands interlace again. They lock into place and he squeezes sympathetically, like he knows he’s about to ruin you.
He doesn’t pull any punches when he resumes. The tip of his tongue traces tight circles into your clit and you writhe again, back twisting, whining out for him. He moves slow and methodically and you wish he would just finish you off. It’s almost torturous how gingerly he moves, even if there’s a good reason for it.
Steve doesn’t want to just make you feel good. He wants to devour you. He wants to dedicate the feeling of you, the taste of you, the sounds of your pleasure, all to memory.
And then he purses his lips and sucks on your clit.
You’re so far gone. Eyes rolling back, legs tightening around his face. “Oh my god Steeeeeeve!”
He giggles, but doesn’t stop. Keeps his lips wrapped tight around you, keeps sucking. It makes a perverse noise, so dirty that it makes your stomach flip. Your eyes roll back painfully and just when it’s about to be too much he finally unlatches himself and soothes your swollen clit with a broad stroke of his tongue. He dips down, pushing his face into you to taper his tongue into your hole.
“Oh my god, oh my god, fuck….”
The tip of his nose rubs against your clit steadily while he tastes you. “So gorgeous,” he purrs, his breath fanning against your cunt. “You ever taste yourself?”
“God - no -“
Steve sighs like it’s a pity, then goes back to work. He moves where you need him, just as you need it, like he’s a mind reader. You twist and writhe in his grip before finally getting loose from his hands. They’re clammy as you reach for his hair, tugging just how he likes, and he quite literally growls as his efforts increase tenfold.
Little unhs are torn from your throat. Your eyes roll back and forth, hooded when you finally get the courage to steal a glance at him. His highlighted hair tangled up in your fingers, his back rippling, the veins on his hands popping just a bit as he pins you down. He’s grinding his hips, too, and you moan over that - he loves eating you out so much he’s trying to get off on it.
Your heartbeat hammers in your ears.
“Fingers,” you choke out, tugging on his locs. “Fingers, please Steve?”
“Yeah?” He pulls back, your grip loosening, and he lines his middle finger up with you. “You’re such an angel, know that? Always sayin’ please.”
His fingertip teasing you is driving you to insanity. You swallow hard. “Let’s talk about it another time.”
He laughs again, white teeth gleaning. “What’s wrong? Pussy’s so empty, huh?”
You nod. “Please, I’ll do anything for it.”
His smile turns a little evil. “Okay. Then here’s what’s going to happen.”
He slides his finger into you and you gasp. The pad of it settles right against your sweet spot. He crooks his finger just right and you moan loudly, needily, grinding your hips down.
Steve looks up at you with a little bit of awe and a lot of determination. “I’m going to pay for your rent ‘til you find another job.”
“But -“
Crooks his finger again, makes you cut yourself off with another moan. His other hand moves to your clit, rubbing slow circles into it.
“Mhm, and I’ll get your groceries, too, and I’ll pay for our dates. Treat you like a princess because it’s what you deserve.”
“You can’t,” you reply hoarsely.
“Let me,” he breathes, “or I won’t let you cum.”
Your hands twist hard into your bedsheets. Steve’s fingers move slow, enough to keep your mind hazy, unable to think straight.
“Not fair,” you whimper.
“It’s not fair you lost your job,” he coos sympathetically.
You shake your head. “Not - not fair you’re h-helping.”
“I want to give you the world.” His eyes are soft, his fingers moving faster, calculated. “Let me.”
Your legs shake around his shoulders. “I - but I -“
His mouth replaces the thumb on your clit and you’re gone again. Nothing but a little toy for him to play with. Mind blank, focused on nothing but the coil in your stomach, his tongue swiping across your nub, his lips sucking, his finger curling.
“Fuck.” It’s all you can say.
“Let me,” he moans against your skin, panting a little. “Let me take care of you.”
“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve….”
“Say yes.” His voice is rough, hoarse. “Say yes or you won’t cum, baby, ‘nd I wanna see it, wanna see you cum again, please angel.”
Your mouth drops, pleasure and shame heightening in your stomach. You shouldn’t let him. But you want taken care of. And if he’s begging for you to let him, why wouldn’t you?
And, anyway, you really need to cum.
So you nod, mouth dropping open as your high comes to a head. “Y- yes!”
If you could open your eyes, you’d see how happy Steve is. “Yeah? Gonna let me?”
You nod again. “Shit, Steve!”
“Yeah, honey,” he grits, lips still tickling your clit, his finger working your sweet spot, his dick grinding into your bed. “So goddamn pretty, let me taste you when you cum.”
His breath is loud when his mouth engulfs your pussy again. You gasp and reach for his hair, fisting it like it’ll keep you tethered to reality. Your body goes stiff as you cum, clenching down on his finger so hard you’re both not sure how it doesn’t break. Steve groans lowly, tongue and lips still unwavering, sucking your clit into ecstasy.
You feel so good, so taken care of, that you cry, hot tears spilling down your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. Bliss washes over you swiftly and leaves you warm and relaxed in his wake. It seems to last forever. You’re breathless and dizzy by the time you’ve calmed down, body going slack again.
Steve finally pulls himself away from you. A thick string of saliva connects you together. You moan at his flushed, wet cheeks.
“You’re so good at that,” you pant.
He grins, pushes his hair back out of his face before crawling up towards you. He’s quick to grab your chin and press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself for the first time ever. And it’s hot, for no reason. Steve licks into your mouth with it before pulling back.
“You like how that tastes?” he asks, playing with your bottom lip.
You look at him wide-eyed. “Uh-huh.”
“Me, too. Know how much I love it?”
You shake your head.
“I just came in my boxers.”
You gasp, elated. “You mean it?”
He scrunches his nose. “It’s really not that hot.”
“Are you kidding?” you whisper, reaching up for his face. “That’s so goddamn hot, Steve.”
He groans, as if you’re kidding him, and rolls off to lay beside you. You’re quick to stare at his crotch, mouth dropping at the stain spreading over the cotton. He pulls you into his chest before you can properly admire it, and bumps his nose against yours.
“You’re gonna let me, right?”
Your brows furrow. “Cum in your pants?”
“No! I mean about taking care of you.”
“Oh.” You almost forgot about all that. “It’s - you’re so nice, Steve, but my rent’s hundreds of dollars -“
“Okay?”
You narrow your eyes slightly. “Alright, don’t brag.”
“It’s only fair. I owe you, remember? Since you paid for my porn?”
Like you could forget.
“And in some ways, you’re like a business partner.”
“How?”
He kisses the tip of your nose. “I can assure you I’ve cum to the thought of you in at least half of my videos.”
If it were anyone else, you’d be disgusted, but it’s Steve. Dorky Steve who’s holding you like you’re precious right now, who just sucked your brain out of your clit. You’re a little flattered, in fact.
“You said yes before,” he reminds you.
“I can take it back.”
He furrows his brows, frowns, hums like he’s thinking. “Mmm, don’t think so.”
“Well, I already came, so….”
“Angel,” he sighs, rolling you into your back, crowding back on top of you. His cock is still half hard against your core. “I can always make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
You lick your lips, heart beating so fast it feels like it’s skipping. “Oh, yeah? Don’t think you’d last.”
He smiles and kisses your forehead. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
But he still leaves you a stack of hundreds on your bedside table when he’s about to go, refuses to take it back when you try shoving it into his hands.
“Just ‘til you get another job,” he says softly, holding your wrists gently in his hands, the hundreds curled up in your fist. “Let me help ‘til then, okay?”
“Fine,” you whisper, still feeling ashamed.
You both have an idea for another job in mind, but neither of you say anything.
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Troubles Unforeseen
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
A/N: Wowowowow- I did not realize my story would be so well received hahaha, I'm honestly grateful you guys like it so much. Anyways- here's the loooong awaited continuation to the series and I hope you all enjoy this installment as much as you've enjoyed the past ones. Happy reading!
A/N: To say this was looong overdue is a friggin understatement since it's literally just been chilling in my drafts like no one's business hahahaha. I'm posting it now so people can start writing ideas about what to do after Reader dies, but go ahead and feel free to keep posting HCs about Reader still being alive. It's an AU at this point and I'll keep writing about it like one HAHAHAHA!
To say Vox paid more attention to you now was slightly an understatement.
You were both practically connected by the hip digitally.
Even your friend group noticed how much time you'd spent just chatting whoever was on the receiving end of your shenanigans.
Not that they knew what kind of peculiar situation was always on the other side of the screen.
In fact, Vox was aware he probably should've been paying more attention to the meeting he was in-
It just so happens that you interested him more than any typical business ever could.
All the more when you'd told him you were getting ready for a party.
"It's just a birthday celebration Vox, it's not like I'm going to a club or anything."
"If there's any booze try not to get shitfaced, or will you drive yourself there?"
You could only giggle at his worry, taking a glance at your phone as it continued to buzz from his messages.
You clipped on the new earrings you'd bought just a few days ago to go with your outfit.
Even if you had gone shopping with your friends-
You still sent Vox pictures, asking what look he preferred.
He was in the middle of spying on Alastor when you once again swiped up all his attention.
Aaaaaand he actually thought you looked great in all of the outfits.
A warm feeling spread through him upon seeing your cheeky grin and silly poses.
Ah whatever, at this point it was nothing new.
But he did finally end up picking the one which bore a striking resemblance to his color scheme.
You didn't even notice at first when you bought the outfit.
Only when you saw the small desktop companion Vox made for you while doing assignments did you realize the subconscious decision your overlord buddy had made.
You teased him about it for a while too, much to his chagrin.
"I'll be with my friends, you don't have anything to worry about."
"The same friends that caused how we met? Doll, I have every right to be concerned."
Vox had nothing against the chaotic nature of your friends.
After all they always brought out the best-
And the worst-
In you, no matter what you were doing.
Even so, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very... off.
Like an ominous shadow just looming over his shoulder.
He didn't make any mention of it though, thinking he was just being paranoid.
Besides, he didn't want to rain on your parade.
You'd gone the whole nine yards to pretty yourself up for the party.
He wouldn't want your efforts to be in vain.
Vox felt a twinge of jealousy towards the fact others would be able to admire how nice you were in real time, he only had pictures.
Wait what-
Okay, there was definitely something still wrong with him.
"I might not be as active for a few hours because of the party so go and actually focus on the things you gotta do."
"Are you insinuating that I don't do that already?"
"When you spam memes and talk to me nearly all the time can you blame me for not thinking you're always distracted?"
Vox mumbled cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes and glancing back up to check if the boring meeting was over.
Ugh... were they even halfway done discussing this shit?
"Yeah whatever, enjoy your party dollface. Don't get too hammered."
"Hahaha love you too dumbass, I'll keep you updated."
The overlord glitched slightly reading your reply.
His stomach definitely did a flip when he first saw what you typed.
Vox already knew it was probably just a: "I love you as a really close friend" thing-
But that didn't stop his systems from freaking out about it anyhow.
He decided it would be best to stop thinking about it anyways, placing his phone down and finally placing his attention back on the meeting.
Like it should've been the entire time-
Vox didn't really give a fuck though.
On your end, you were going to be picked up by your friends before you all headed to the party.
You guys decided it would be smarter to carpool so most of you guys could actually drink and unwind.
"Heeeeey bitch! Wow! Your outfit slays!"
You rolled your eyes before climbing into shotgun.
"I had some help picking out the look, any good?"
"(Y/N) you are going to break necks with how fast heads will turn, are you kidding me??"
That just reminded you of something Vox said when you showed him the pictures of your completed outfit.
'They're going to turn their heads so fast it'll give them whiplash! You look stunning darling!'
Vox's knack for petnames sometimes embarrassed you, especially when it sometimes seemed a little more than friendly.
Though- that was probably not the case, he was just being the charming idiot TV telecaster that he was with his sweet talk.
You often caught yourself wondering if he ever meant his words, or if it was just the persona Vox played up.
You partly hoped he meant it, even if you didn't know why.
That was until the not-so-subtle snickering of your friends popped the thought bubble you were in.
"Ooookay, what's so funny?"
"Who are you thinking about~? That digital 'friend' of yours?"
You audibly groaned from the situation your friends were insinuating.
They never really believed that you were just chatting with a friend when you were on the phone with Vox.
Despite the multiple times you'd blatantly mentioned that he really was just that.
A friend, a companion-
He wasn't supposed to be anything more than that right?
A blush was creeping up your neck as your friends continued to prod and tease at you for it, fanning your own face slightly to try and calm down the raging embarrassment.
Of course, it would always be fun and games-
Until it wasn't.
Everything happened so fast.
You were just joking with your friends in one moment-
And now you were coughing up blood in the next.
You remembered your friends screaming, some bright headlights, the brakes screeching then metal crunching.
You couldn't even move.
The entire front of the car had been shoved backwards into the front seats.
Even if the paramedics got here in time, you doubted they could save you.
The coppery tang of blood stained your tongue.
You'd gotten all dolled up for the party too.
It's unfortunate that now you'd never be able to go.
Heh... you probably wouldn't even be able to get drunk now either.
Wait-
Oh shit-
Vox!!
You wanted to reach for your phone but both your arms were fucked up in the crash.
The only thing you could really move was your head.
Even then, darkness was already starting to creep into your vision.
It didn't matter how valiantly you fought to keep your eyes open.
You lost too much blood, by the time the paramedics had arrived-
They announced you dead and took you away in a body bag.
The lower half of you had gotten entirely mangled from the accident that you surviving seemed bleak to begin with.
You thought you were done for when you closed your eyes for the final time.
Only when you opened them again- you were somewhere else entirely.
What...?
The skies were blood red, there was practically fire and murder everywhere you turned-
And oh ew- it even smelled like rotten burning corpses.
Where the fuck were you??
Was this supposed to be hell???
You carefully wandered around, hesitating here and there before stumbling across a large building.
Hazbin Hotel...?
Huh, you had no where else to go.
Might as well give it a shot.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#vox#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin vox x reader#vox x you#Get Off My Screen Series
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A long overdue update:
Hi everyone. Long time no see. I literally have not opened Tumblr since the last time I posted here. Hope everyone is doing ok. Figured I owed y’all an apology and explanation for kinda just vanishing.
First, I did in fact get a car! It’s a 2015 Nissan Versa Note. I don’t particularly like it but a friend gave me a deal on it that I couldn’t turn down. Once my life stabilizes I’m probably going to sell it and buy an old truck, maybe a 70s Ford. I’d love a little sports car or a land yacht but rear wheel drive is a bit impractical for brutal New England winters, and the Jeep really put me in Old American Truck Mode. But yes I have a car now!
Second, unfortunately this is an official notice of hiatus. When I last posted saying I was taking some time off it was because I had just had an incredibly stressful move and did not have the energy to keep this blog up. I figured I’d take some time to get settled in, relax, and then pick this back up after a week or two, but the last month has been really rough - the short version is one of the people I was living with turned out to be a pretty horrendous human being who managed to get everybody living in the house essentially kicked out via sheer drama. Within a month and a half. It’s a long story but tl:dr if you quite literally slander a property manager with heavy unfounded accusations of horrible crimes, they’ll probably bail from the whole situation. And since they’re gone the landlord has to hand ownership of everything over to a company that’s forcing everyone still here to vacate. I’m now fighting to not have to live in aforementioned Nissan Versa through the aforementioned brutal New England winter. On top of that, I’m a retail manager so we’re going into our busiest most stressful season, so that’s been an extra level of exhaustion.
So what does that mean for this blog? Well, as I said, I’m officially going on indefinite hiatus, as are the projects I was working on in relation, including the reference website. I’m really sorry, I’m just way too stressed and dealing with way too much. If I could, I would just hand off administrative power to someone else, but this is a sideblog so I can’t hand off login credentials without also giving access to my main/personal account. It’s my biggest regret of this account, but when I started it I never expected it to blow up the way it did back in September - I had no reason to expect to need it to be its own entirely separate blog. I love what I was doing here and I thought that it might even be a nice distraction from everything going on, but the upkeep required with this blog is just more than I can deal with right now. I hope that things settle down soon and that I can genuinely come back here and enjoy what I was doing, but I just need literally anything to level out in my real life and to not be in 100% survival mode, because at the moment I literally do not have the energy to pour into this.
Anyway. Sorry for the long post, I’m not good at not being overly verbose. I’m really sorry for kind of abandoning this project, and I hope I can get back to it relatively soon, it just might be a while.
In the mean time, I hope those of y’all who I turned onto cars as a potential hobby find some other good outlets! I highly recommend Donut Media’s series “Up to Speed” on YouTube, as well as the channels Regular Car Reviews, Doug DeMuro, Garbage Time, and Aging Wheels. All great YouTube channels that are both informative and very approachable and fun.
Godspeed and much love. Hope to see y’all soon
- Identifying Cars in Posts admin ❤️
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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 5)
*Series taglist is closed.
angst, fluff, smut
Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.
Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.
Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6
General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)
Specific Warnings: brief mention of the lasting effects of performing sexual acts under the influence of the synthetic hormones (aka dubcon), slight daddy issues
____
Yoongi wakes up to the sound of his phone alarm blaring in his ear. It takes him a moment to remember he’s not in his room, the chandelier on the ceiling making that evident. No matter how many times he sleeps in this room, the extravagance of it will always startle him. You really were not one for subtlety when it came to home décor (or at least, twenty-one-year-old you wasn’t).
He looks at the door and remembers the reason he’s here…how there’s six wolf hybrids on the other side. Sure, they’re about as docile as a box of puppies at the moment, but it’s only a handful of more days until that changes. And worst of all, he still has to go to work and leave you alone with them for hours—especially now that you’ve paused housekeeping and chef visits. Even if you didn’t pause them, they’d stop coming on their own; no one sane would take a chance around a 40% wolf pack slowly remembering their natural instincts. Hell, the security services he’s looked at won’t even take that risk. No matter how many times he tells you how insane of a decision this is, your stubbornness will always win out in the end. He’s never been able to stop you when you’re determined to do something.
Yoongi wishes he could stay here with you, but he knows there’s no way you’d rest easy without him keeping you updated on business. He’s always been your right-hand, and while others might find the role burdensome, he prides himself on it. You don’t keep people close often, having your guard set up higher than the Great Wall of China, and it feels nice knowing he can see a side of you others don’t. Yes, it’s probably the feelings talking—feelings he’s tried to shoo away for a long time now—but that doesn’t make it any less true. He likes this job, and being by your side every day, far too much to risk it by trying anything. And he sure as hell won’t be put in the box of men who constantly hit on you during work, knowing far too well how much you hate their gazes and remarks.
It's when he’s making his way to the kitchen for his morning coffee does he lock eyes with Jimin, who’s already bright-eyed and making pancakes.
“Good morning, Sir! Would you like some pancakes and bacon?”
Yoongi doesn’t normally eat breakfast, but he does not have it in him to say no to the cheery wolf.
“Um…sure, thank you.”
“My pleasure. Anything else I can get you? Juice? Coffee?”
“I can make my own coffee but thank you for offering.”
“No please, I insist!”
He doesn’t leave any room for objections as he races over to the coffee machine, keeping a skillful eye on the pancake on the stove while brewing a new pot.
Yoongi watches awkwardly, not really knowing what to do in this situation. He’s never really talked to a hybrid before.
Do I just talk like I would to another person? Should I howl? No, dumbass, don’t howl. That’s weird.
He opts to stay silent as Jimin prepares his meal.
The wolf is in a visibly cheery mood, as evident by the soft whistling he does while making his way around the kitchen. The cause of this mood is simple: his hyung was still not in the room when he woke up. If you’re using Hoseok’s services, then that’s one step closer to getting you to use the whole pack. Which means they have a chance at staying here. Hoseok hyung did his part, now it’s Jimin’s turn. So he woke up early, memorized where everything in the kitchen was, and started working his magic.
And the fruit—or pancake—of his labor is sitting pretty on a plate, served with a cup of hot coffee on the side. He waits eagerly for Yoongi to take his first bite, which the man does quickly under the expecting gaze.
“This is really good, thank you.” He mumbles between mouthfuls, making the younger man break into a wide grin.
“Thank you for enjoying it Sir! I can make it again for breakfast tomorrow, or eggs, or toas—”
“Just Yoongi is fine. ‘Sir’ isn’t necessary. And thank you again for the food, but there’s no need to cook every morning. I usually prefer to make my own coffee and head out.”
“Oh…then I’ll just prepare the coffee for you! It’ll be in your hand right when you walk out your room!”
Yoongi waves his hand dismissively,
“No need. I’ll make it myself.”
Jimin looks for any sign of a trick. He remembers things like this from the lab, where they’d give him trick scenarios to see if he was smart enough to catch on. But Yoongi’s face doesn’t indicate anything.
He seems awkward, so maybe he just doesn’t know how to use a hybrid yet? I should let him know how to use me.
“But I’m here to serve y/n, and you’re y/n’s guest. This is what I’m made to do.”
Yoongi takes a deep breath, it’s too damn early in the morning for a conversation like this.
“Neither y/n nor I are expecting any services from you or the others. This house is a place for you to recover and rest.”
Now the wolf looks even more perplexed.
“But y/n is using our services. She let Jin hyung do the dishes yesterday, Jungkook helped move furniture around, and Hoseok hyung was with her all night. So why can’t I make you a cup of coffee every morning?”
Yoongi halts his motions, replaying what he just heard in his head.
Hoseok hyung was with her all night.
Hoseok…the “romantic” hybrid?
No. It couldn’t be.
You wouldn’t do something like that.
“What do you mean he was with her all night?”
“Hyung went over last night. He’s still in the room with her now.” He says if it’s most casual thing in the world.
Yoongi’s legs work faster than his brain at that moment, as he’s already rushing to your door in an instant, leaving an oblivious Jimin to clean up in the kitchen.
He knocks but you don’t answer, so he knocks louder. It’s Hoseok who delicately opens the door, making Yoongi feel like he’s about to vomit the entire breakfast he’s just had.
He practically bulldozes his way in, looking around for you before hearing the water running from the bathroom.
“Y-y/n is in the shower. D-did you need anything, Sir?”
“Don’t call me Sir.” He snaps.
Hoseok doesn’t know what to do. This is his first time talking to this man, and it’s clear he’s already in his bad graces. It feels as if his feet are stuck in one place.
“What happened last night, between the two of you?”
Hoseok knows it’s wrong to lie, especially to a guest brought by his owner. He knows he should say what really happened: how you and him slept on opposite sides of the bed and didn’t even touch the entire night, how he didn’t even have a single thought of touching you nor the desire to have sex with anyone anymore—but how could he, a romantic, trained to do just that, admit this? How could he admit it to himself, let alone Yoongi?
So he doesn’t.
“I-I w-was g-good for her the whole n-night. She was happy with my s-service.”
What the fuck y/n.
Yoongi’s seeing red, leaving the house as soon as possible and not sparing Jimin a single glance as the wolf exclaims a “Have a good day at work!” on his way out.
___
Something feels off when you text Yoongi this morning. He’s usually not the most expressive texter, but his tone feels cold even for him. So you ask if he’s free for a call, which he says he’s too busy for. That’s the second red flag. Yoongi never declines your calls unless he’s with his mother in the hospital.
Maybe there’s problems with her health again? Maybe it’s got him distracted at work?
Your worries keep you too occupied to realize how eagerly Jimin is standing there, waiting for praise for his creation. It’s only when the wolf’s nervous fidgeting becomes unavoidable do you look up and get the cue.
“Thank you so much for breakfast Jimin. It was delicious.”
His heart swells at the compliment.
“Did Yoongi eat this before he left?”
He nods.
“How did he seem? His mood, I mean.”
Jimin stares up for a moment, recalling the interaction.
“He seemed okay? He said he liked the food, but then he got up really quickly to go somewhere…back to his room I think? I’m not sure. Then he left the house really fast.”
“I see.”
You wrack your brain, trying to think of what could have happened in the morning. But you have to remind yourself that it’s Yoongi, and one thing about Yoongi is that he opens up on his own terms—something you both have in common—so all you can really do is wait until he’s ready to talk about whatever’s on his mind. Hopefully it’s something you can help out with.
“Is everyone else awake? Have they already had breakfast?”
“We’re allowed to have breakfast too?” His pupils dilate at the thought. No one thought breakfast would be on the table when you were already being so generous with lunch and dinner. He’s been staring at each pancake he’s flipped, desire in his eyes as thick as the maple syrup he drizzled.
“Yes Jimin, breakfast is for everyone here.”
“I’ll get the others right now! Thank you so much!”
You watch fondly as he does a half-walk half-skip out of sight.
“Guys! Y/n said we can eat breakfast, come on out!” It doesn’t take long until the four from the hybrid room come out, and Hoseok makes his way out from your room, instantly receiving proud looks and pats on the back from his packmates.
“What did she say about last night?!” Taehyung wastes no time in inquiring from his hyung.
Hoseok chuckles nervously, wanting nothing to get the five pairs of eyes off of him.
“She was very satisfied.” The words are bitter as they leave his mouth.
“I knew it! No one can resist our Hobi! Good job hyung!”
Namjoon is simultaneously relieved yet disappointed. Relieved that there’s a chance to stay, but disappointed with himself that he couldn’t step up and be the reason. He can’t help but feel like he let Hoseok down by relying on him. He’s the Alpha. He’s supposed to be the reliable one.
“Come on guys, let’s go eat.”
___
“Thank you so much for the meal y/n. We’ll wash up first then assist you in any way you need.”
“You can use the other three vacant bathrooms if you don’t want to wait on each other. There’s fresh towels under each sink.”
“Oh just one bathroom is enough. We’re used to showering together.”
You don’t miss the way Jungkook recoils at the mention of a shower.
“Jungkook doesn’t like showers. He prefers baths.” You state matter-of-factly, surprising Namjoon.
Has his pup been going around demanding things from you? He knows better than to do that.
Jungkook writhes under his Alpha’s gaze, unable to handle disappointing him.
He knows he’ll have to go back to showers with the others now, but there’s a selfish voice in the back of his head wishing he didn’t.
“He’s fine with showers, aren’t you Koo?”
Jungkook nods quick, but you’re not buying it.
“Jungkook, don’t lie to me. Are you sure you’re okay with taking a shower?”
His throat goes dry. He can’t lie to you but he also knows what he’s about to say will disappoint his packmates—make him look like a spoiled brat.
“N-not really. I-I’d like to take a bath please—if that’s allowed.”
“Jungkook. We are not going to waste y/n’s water by washing up separately. You know better.” Namjoon’s voice is low and solemn, making the other hybrids watch with bated breaths. He feels bad, knowing why Jungkook is so afraid. The labs used to only let them have freezing cold showers. The researchers didn’t like how he would shiver in the stall, something the rest were much better at controlling. They called it misbehaving and made him stay behind to hose him down with even colder water.
So, no one really blames Jungkook for not wanting to take a shower here, but it’s about principle. Sure, it seemed you were lenient enough to let Jungkook have his way on some matters, but that was when it was just the two of you. What if the others follow his example and start asking for special treatment? There’s only so much you’d allow before getting fed up with them. No, he has to snip it off at the bud, make sure everyone is behaving perfectly for you.
Jungkook’s floundering, looking for any way out, but thankfully you step in.
“It’s okay Namjoon, really. Everyone’s free to use either one, and please feel free to take individual showers. You could each take twelve hour showers and I’d still have more than enough money for the water bill, I promise.”
Namjoon examines your face carefully, seeing nothing but sincerity.
“Are you sure?”
“One thousand percent.”
The atmosphere lightens up enough for Taehyung to speak up from the back.
“W-what about warm water? Is that okay?”
“More than okay.”
Namjoon looks at you with a sliver of solace, but still on guard for the slightest hint of a trap.
___
The rest of the day goes by with the hybrids focusing on little tasks you’ve allocated.
Jungkook’s still making his way through Extraordinary Woo, Hoseok joining in with his own little notebook. You still can’t look the older one in the eye after last night, feeling like shit for even considering what he was offering you. Thank god you snapped out of it quick, or you could never forgive yourself. You still need to find a good time to sit them around and tell them nothing happened; as dumb of a decision you made to let him sleep over, the last thing you want is for anyone to actually think you did anything more than just sleeping. Every time you tried to bring up the topic at breakfast, however, Hoseok asked you some other question to distract you, never quite letting you get the words out.
Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung are tucked away in an abandoned study room, organizing your extensive book collection. It was Jin who suggested it, having his hands itching to clean the moment you showed the room during last night’s tour. It’s not hard labor, so you agree to appease them.
Namjoon prefers to keep by your side in your home office, working on a rather difficult puzzle you laid out for him. It’s endearing to watch his chin protrude as he scans the image on the box and the 250 pieces scattered on the table.
Even though you’re technically on vacation, work never really stops, as evident by the documents that need your approval piling in the database. Yoongi texts you updates of a couple of ventures, but it’s with the same stand-offish tone. It makes you more upset than you care to admit, not receiving his little sarcastic quips throughout the day.
You’re scanning through some current market trends when you receive the call you’ve been dreading: your father. You clear your throat before answering, trying to come off as confident as you can.
“Hello father.”
Namjoon’s ears perk up at that. He knows he shouldn’t use his hybrid hearing right now, keep everything filtered to his immediate surroundings like they taught at the lab (no one likes a nosy pet), but his curiosity gets the best of him. He almost jumps at the yelling on the other side of the phone, your father clearly not happy with you at the moment. He doesn’t make it obvious that he’s listening in, only sparing the shortest glances your way in between the puzzle. Your face is aloof through it all, showing no indication that you’re being so harshly berated at the moment; it’s an expression he’s all too familiar with. It’s one that was trained into him perfectly at the lab; stoic, statue-esque features to never show you’re scared—never show weakness. Namjoon, who’s had it beaten and drugged into him, can’t help but wonder what circumstances made you have the same expression.
You hang up just as calmly as you picked up, only indication of your actual mood being your nervously tapping foot.
“Is everything alright? Anything I can help with?”
He knows nothing is alright, considering you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes with your father telling you how spineless you’re being.
“The people at my company don’t like me right now. If you know how to change that, I’m very much all ears.”
He’s surprised to receive a real answer, expecting you to give him an unconvincing “Everything’s fine” at the best and a “None of your fucking business” at the worst. Not many people actually answer hybrids, he’s learned since entering captivity. In the wild, where no one would dare dismiss a wolf hybrid, he was used to having his thoughts valued at the highest regard. However, the human world taught him quickly that hybrids weren’t meant to be talked to as equals—it will always be a master/pet relationship.
It's been a while since someone other than his packmates have earnestly asked for his opinion.
“Can’t you fire them if they don’t agree with you?”
You smile at him, but not the mocking “that’s a stupid idea” smile he’s used to with humans, but rather a sad “I wish it was that simple” smile.
“As much as it is my company on paper, my father still impacts a lot of the decisions I make. I can’t really fire them for stuff he doesn’t think 'important'. If I do, he’ll fly out to the next shareholder meeting at literal superspeed, I’m sure. If they don’t violate any major laws or policies, I basically have my hands tied. Just have to pretend everything is okay.”
The wolf’s features soften, weirdly understanding where you’re coming from. He feels the same, with his “Alpha” position holding no real value anymore. He’s only the leader of his pack on paper, but it’s you who provides for them. It’s you who they follow.
“That sounds really rough, especially having to pretend you’re okay when you’re not.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He wishes he could give you some genius solution that would prove to you how useful he is, but that’s all that comes out.
“We both do that well, don’t we? I think that’s why I’m drawn to you the most.”
It’s evident on Namjoon’s face that that’s the last thing he was expecting to hear from you—or from anyone really. If you should be drawn to anyone it should be Jungkook with his doe eyes and unadulterated innocence, or Hoseok with his irresistible charisma, or Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung with their soft and loving temperaments. Not him. Not him who’s rough and rigid and the least fun. Not him who does nothing but worry all day yet put up a front that he’s strong and in-charge.
“You seem surprised to hear that.”
“I’m usually not what people are drawn to.”
“People like us never are, are we? I wouldn’t tell my worries so candidly to most people you know, but I see so much of myself in you.”
People like us. Not pet and owner…both people.
Again, he doesn’t know what the right thing to say is.
____
A/N: Hope you are liking the story so far! Please interact if you can 💞 have a great rest of your day!! 🫶🏽
Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk
Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele
*If Tumblr doesn't let me tag you for some reason, I'll send you a DM instead!
#bts hybrid au#bts hybrid x reader#poly ot7#ot7 x reader#hurt/comfort#bts angst#bts smut#bts fluff#unnatural instincts
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Double Trouble
Dad Series
Toji Fushiguro
Warnings: Pure Fluff
*I promise next update will be a fic update but it'll take a while!! Meanwhile enjoy this little holiday drabble🥹
Discord 18+ - Twitter - Ko-Fi
The twins are both extremely curious about the man who leaves Christmas gifts under the tree. More so because this person gets cookies and milks without having to beg for them. They aren’t interested in the man himself, but they wonder if he really does eat all those cookies that they leave out.
“At what time does Santa come?” Kisho asks, and Toji already senses they’re up to something. The twins are never up to something good, and he already feels the headache forming.
“We’re sleeping, honey. We don’t know.” You answer, and their tiny eyes go to Megumi. Their older brother has told them about Santa and how he’s caught the man in the act of giving gifts. He gave them a vague description of their dad, but the twins obviously didn’t catch on. Megumi shrugs, obviously not giving them any answer that could help them.
“Santa doesn’t give gifts to naughty babies so you two better not be planning anything.” Toji warns them, and they nod. They’re angels, of course they wouldn’t try to do anything!
Not until they’re sure their parents are in bed. Then Kisho wakes up a sleeping Koemi, reminding her of their plan: Eat some of the cookies that were left out for Santa– They made sure to leave out a lot, he surely wouldn’t miss one or two cookies, right?
“Shush! Don’t wake mommy and daddy up!” Kisho makes sure that their footsteps are barely audible and they don’t make any noise so they don’t get caught in the act. They manage to make it to the living room without getting caught. Their eyes see glory as they land on the cookies. Their mouths water and their arms stretch out as they walk towards it– Until they’re lifted off the floor.
They’re about to scream but they look up to find their older brother, one that uses every bounce of his strength to carry them and hide them behind their Christmas tree. When Megumi puts them down, he puts his index finger on his lips, telling them to be quiet.
Then the twins look at their parents. Toji takes a seat on the couch, licking his lips as he looks at the cookies. Then you come along, and take a look at the storage closet that’s downstairs. You make a comment, “I think we went a little overboard with gifts this year, Toji.”
“They deserve it, baby. They might give me a headache but they’re good kids.” Toji answers. Toji tries to act all tough but he’s a softie on the inside, especially for his kids.
“Did you make sure they were sleeping?” You ask, and Toji hums in response. The twins have never been this quiet in their life. They don’t want to get in trouble. Not until Toji reaches for the cookies, grabbing one and eating it. It’s just one cookie though, it should be fine. But then Toji eats one after the other, and Koemi can’t watch it anymore. Not when there’s only one cookie left.
“That’s for Santa, daddy!” She yells out, leaving her hiding spot. Both you and Toji are stunned to find your daughter there, and Toji furrows his brows. He walks over to his daughter, crouching down and tilting his head to the side. “What are you doing, honey? You should be sleeping.”
“I’m…” She begins, as you walk to the place she came out of and find your other two kids hiding, crossing your arms. Megumi covers his face with his palms due to the embarrassment of being caught, and Kisho mimics him.
“Looks like you didn’t check if they were sleeping, Toji.” You look back at your husband with a frown on your face. You then look at your sons, “And it seems like Santa might not come tonight.”
“Because daddy ate all the cookies?” Kisho asks, and you shake your head. Your husband answers for you though,
“Because Santa doesn’t give gifts to naughty babies– And teenagers, isn’t that right, Megumi?”
(Spoiler alert: Santa still came and gave all the gifts to the kids.)
#[dad series]#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#toji fushiguro#jujutsu toji#toji zenin#dilf toji#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro x you#daddy toji#toji imagine#dad toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#jjk toji#toji fluff#toji x reader
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