theveiledmaiden - Tumblr blog

theveiledmaiden · 8 days

Text

THE PROPHECY | t. shigaraki

synopsis: tomura doesn't want to be your enemy anymore. authors note: hi hi hi. been working on this fic for a few weeks. it's sort of a continuation of the first kiss fic with him in it. also I'm working on a few other fics and request and hope you enjoy this one in the meantime. it's a lot longer than I thought it was gonna be. also with the release of tswifts new album expect a few little nods to her songs... cw: blood, gore, suggestive, enemies to lovers, lovesick!tomura, obession, fem reader wc: 5k

--------------------------------------------------------

He watched you from afar. He watched your television broadcasts and studied your face as though he’d missed something the first hundred times. He remembered your smiles, and could decipher whether real or fake. He’d visit places you had been and imagine you there now. Future number one hero. His number one. Tomura was sick. Sick in the head, sick in his chest, his heart, dark and decrepit only beat for the sun. His days were dark and gray until he saw your shining face. So bright sometimes it made his stomach turn. He wouldn’t call it an obsession. It was something far worse. He didn’t just want you. He needed you. He needed all of you. Wanted your things in his room. Wanted your body sprawled over his bed in one of his worn t-shirts. Wanted you eating at his kitchen table, something only he cooked for you. He wanted to hear you talk to him. To say his name. Wanted your eyes on his and your hands on him. He wanted your time and your heart and your being. He couldn’t have it though. The prophecy that encircled him was stuck on its unwavering path. Even you couldn’t deter his fate.

Sometimes he thinks about the first time he saw you. Only when he’s alone and no one can see just how far gone he truly is.

Him in company with the shadows as you were announced as the next pro hero. You were standing on some podium. The microphone was taller than you as you reached for it and it yelped with feedback. You had laughed it off and cleared your throat. You looked radiant, with glowing skin and bright hopeful eyes. You were signed to Endeavors squad. Tomura knew you were stronger than that bumbling fire breathing idiot. But still you smiled just as bright.

All that untapped potential within you. Those powers could cause devastation if in a villain's hands. Which is why All For One asked Tomura to keep an eye on you in the first place. To see when the time to strike and steal those powers would be. But Tomura was past that. You had far more meaningful things he wanted rather than your powers.

You had thanked Endeavor after he gave a speech introducing you, your hand wrapping around the mic. Tomura fed off the shadows, after all they were giving him the ability to see you in person. It was an unreal feeling. Your speech wasn’t too long and you ended it before your eyes could well up with tears. The last words of your speech swirling around in Tomura’s head.

“I have always wanted to do good. I’ve always wanted to be a hero. Thank you for giving me the chance to do just that.”

He could see that good in you. Could see that swirling hope, that devotion to all things just. He unfortunately could see All-Might's influence. Endeavor walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder and Tomura felt something sick churning. He didn’t like people touching you. He knew you were nice, maybe too nice to say anything but he’d gladly be your voice if you needed it. When it was over you had walked out to meet people. Tomura watched you still. You were like some drug he couldn’t fend himself off of. He followed you at a healthy distance through the crowd. He wanted to see if he could corrupt you. See if he could drive you to the edge. See if those powers could be used for more than just causes. He could grab the man standing beside him and use decay. He could create mass panic. He could see your powers up close, could feel the weight of your stare. But as he got closer he saw you bending over to smile at a little girl. He heard your laugh and melancholy voice telling the little girl that if you could be a hero, anyone could. His reaching hand paused when you straightened and turned, almost like you felt the heat of his piercing eyes. Like you had a feeling creeping down your spine. Good intuition. He turned to leave just as your eyes found his. Just that split second of eye contact sent him pushing his way through the crowd and towards the exit as though he had just committed some atrocity and needed a quick exit.

You two crossed paths many times after that day. Tomura did learn the full force of your attention and it completely turned himself in on his once well sought after goals. Because now… you became his goal. His ultimate end. He wouldn’t mind dying if only it was by your hands. There was no saving him, no redemption for you to give him but death. He could see it in your piercing eyes. Could feel it in the way you fought him. You didn’t fight like other heroes. You had something to prove. Most heroes in your position would be cocky. But not you. No you were calculating and smart, but above all… you were vicious with him. Those powers were something to fear and Tomura loved them more for it. The one person that could end his endless suffering was also the root of it.

And the moment had finally come for him. After fighting, Tomura’s endurance wavering, he saw a thirst for blood in your eyes. A hunger so deep he knew you could never feel the same for him in a million millennia. And when the time came he accepted the death you’d grant him with open arms.

But you didn’t grant him a thing.

You had every opportunity to but you hesitated. Tomura saw it. Saw the quickest of uncertainties pass your heavenly face. Your eyes flitting up to him. The eye contact was nothing like he’d ever experienced before in his miserable life. You weren’t looking at him with anger or contempt. But something else. Something he wishes he could ask you to explain. He watched your lips part and heard you suck in a breath, not realizing he’d been holding his own.

“Well… what’re you waiting for, hero?” He asked. This moment like something right out of his stupid daydreams. You tightened your grip slightly at the sound of his voice but that uncertainty stayed. Tomura couldn’t help but glance at your lips. After all this was probably the last time he’d ever see them this closely. And he couldn’t help but get caught up, to just stare and drink in his fill before his demise. You flinched when he looked back up and right then and there he knew you couldn’t kill him. He didn’t know what it was but he could feel it as deeply as he felt for you.

“I can’t.“ You affirmed his suspicions. Tomura’s stomach clenched. He’d never heard your voice this close, speak this softly. He melted at the moment. You let out a ragged breath and there was a moment shared before Tomura saw Dabi’s blue flames travel towards your unguarded back. Tomura acted without even thinking. He gripped you by the shoulders and spun you out of the line of fire. You felt the heat graze against your shoulder before your back hit the ground, Tomura shielding you with his own body. He was burned badly with that little move. He groaned above you, shooting a glare back at Dabi. You stared at him above you in utter shock and confusion. He’d just saved your life. He stared at your mouth then saved your life. And you couldn’t kill him. You had every opportunity to end everything right here and now. He was already injured, you could finish it all here and now. But when Tomura turned and your eyes met again you couldn’t do it. Tomura reached for you, his thumb just barely wiping dirt from your cheek. It was surprisingly intimate. Until you realized the hand touching you was the same one that could easily turn you to dust. You were quick to act, quick to fire up your powers and send Tomura back towards the fire. Something burned in you, some feeling of guilt as you struggled to your feet and ran off towards the rest of the hero’s that had started to fall back. Tomura hit the ground hard, slightly startled by the force in which you sent him flying. He rose and watched you meeting back up with the rest of the hero’s. Watched Hawks run over and meet you halfway, grabbing you gently and looking you over for any wounds. Tomura felt his stomach twist in a sickening way. Jealousy like a vice around his chest.

You had tossed and turned all night. Unable to turn your mind off. The events of the day played in a loop. Fighting Tomura, taking him to the ground. The curious way he looked at you. The curious way you looked back. The inability to kill him after everything. You could justify trying again if he hadn’t saved you. He saved you. Tomura Shigaraki saved your damn life. He took a burn for you. And then he touched your cheek. Without evil intent. And the look in his eyes when he did it. That’s what haunted you so stunningly and consistently for the entire night. You sighed heavily, turning over in your bed, running a stressed hand through your hair.

Was this a thing now? That hesitation that took such deep root, that act of kindness to keep you from the flames. What if he had done it to confuse you? To test your allegiances. If so you had failed sort of spectacularly. Letting him touch you and feeling something when he did. You sat up instantly. You felt something when he touched you. You felt something when you watched his eyes watching your lips. You pushed out of bed and felt the cold flooring beneath your feet as you rushed from your room. You needed to do something… anything to get your mind off of him. In your haste you slammed right into Hawks.

“Woah… hey there you alright?” He asked, steadying you. You cleared your throat.

“Y-yeah, just hungry.” You lied. Hawks slightly cocked his head as he surveyed you for a moment.

“You seem… rattled.” Hawks says. You look up at him a little too quickly. You shake your head.

“I’m fine.” You say and slightly cringe because you did not sound fine. But Hawks wasn’t one to pry. He just gave you a small smile and nodded his head.

“Well… you know where to find me if you aren’t actually fine.” He says before walking off to his room. You turn slightly as you watch him walk away. You suddenly wished he was who you were laying up at night thinking about. Wished you could chase him down now and release the pent up energy that swirled within you. But that wouldn’t be fair to him because you’d be thinking of someone else. You ran a stressed hand down your face and proceeded to the kitchen. After you ate and calmed down a bit you were able to wrangle in those unruly thoughts. Just because he saved you once doesn’t mean he deserves to take up rent in your head. The man was evil. You’d spent the better part of a year facing off with him and his followers. He doesn’t deserve your hesitation or confusion. The next time you faced off with him would be the last.

Tomura could only watch as his mind was stolen, watching his body being overtaken by a force he wasn’t strong enough to stop. All for One’s control taking over. He knew he had seconds left before he’d no longer cease to be himself. You burned with hatred beneath him, your left arm broken and useless, your right hand holding some sharp shrapnel that you’d plunged desperately into his side, your powers flickering weakly within you. He didn’t feel the pain. Your eyes flashed, his hands around your neck, squeezing. Someone was going to win here but… it wasn’t going to be him.

He pulled you hard, the fire in your eyes licking and burning his own but he couldn’t care less. If he was going to die he was going to make one last grave mistake that might send him to the grave earlier than expected. He leaned down where you were pinned beneath him and with impressive force, smashed his lips against your own.

The kiss was like a fight. Like all your other fights. But lips instead of fists. With breaths instead of words. With groans instead of screams and growls. His hands gripped your face hard to keep you where he wanted you. You, in a fit of confusion and pure survival instinct twisted the shrapnel in his side. He gasped in pain but that only spurred him on, his mouth cracking yours open in a feverish attempt to be as close as humanly possible. He had no indication whether or not you wanted this until the pain ceased and he felt your tongue brush against his. His breathing hitched, muddled with pain and sorrow and complete obsession. He pulled you off the ground roughly and kissed you until you both were gasping for air. When he pulled back the state he left you in was enough to satisfy him for years. Your lips were kissed pink and wet, your cheeks had a wicked blush across them as you stared at him with utter bewilderment and something else that had his stomach tangling in knots within him.

He resigned himself to death then. He was guilty as sin.

Your hand was still on the hilt of your shrapnel that was embedded in his side as you stared at each other. Breaths heavy. Tomura didn’t know how to be kind. He didn’t know how to be soft. He’d never kissed anyone before and it should’ve been pretty damn suspicious when the first person he’d ever felt the need to devour with his lips was the one standing opposite of him in this endless war. The one he needed to destroy. And to say he wanted to devour you was almost an understatement. He wanted to climb into your body and live in your ribcage, safe and tucked away. He wanted to be inside you, wanted that mind of yours to only know him, wanted those pink lips to only speak his name, those pretty eyes to only meet him. The obsession was endless. He wanted it more than ever right now. Death knocking down his rotted door. So bad that he hadn’t even noticed his own tears before they fell and hit your cheeks. You blinked a few times, slowly coming back down from the clouds. Tomura reached for you a last time, the pad of his thumb swiping his tears off your cheek.

“Save me, hero.” He breathed out before everything went black.

Your breathing staggered as you watched Tomura change before your eyes into something else. You had been warned about Tomura’s connection to All For One but you let yourself get caught up in the moment. You were able to take advantage of the moment and put a little distance between you and the hijacker. You could hear Hawks calling for you somewhere but you weren’t leaving this. Tomura had asked you to save him. With tears in his eyes. And god dammit you were going to save him if it killed you.

“I know you're still in there,” You call out, voice steadier than it had been all day long. The hijacker looked up and the smile was pure evil. All For One. You’d never met him in person and without Aizawa here to cancel his quirk you were dead in the water. But you weren’t leaving.

“Tomura’s not here, girl. But he sends his condolences.” Even his voice didn’t sound the same. You kept your head high and even though your body screamed in pain you got ready to fight.

“Get out of his head.”

“You sound like you care, hero?” You flinched at the nickname. It didn’t sound as good coming from him.

“I can’t ignore someone in trouble.” You say, your heart speeding slightly as All for One laughs.

“Is that so?” He asks, cocking his head. “As though you weren’t seconds away from killing him before I took over.” You were slightly relieved he didn’t seem to know what had transpired moments before he took over.

“He asked for help.”

“Does he deserve your help?”

“Everyone deserves help.” You shoot back defiantly. All for One just laughs, walking towards you. Your powers flickered weakly within you and you felt overwhelming fear, felt the urge to run. But you stayed put.

“How about a trade, hmm?” He asked. You stared at him. He wasn’t to be trusted, you know that. But still…

“A trade?” You echoed.

“I’ll give him back to you if you hand over those powers willingly.” All for One stated. You stared at him. All you ever wanted in life was to be a hero. You were blessed to have powers like these and as much as you wanted to save Tomura, these powers in All For One’s hands would only cause death and destruction.

“I- can’t.” You said and watched a sympathetic smile spread across All for One’s stolen features.

“Some hero you are.” He said. “And to think this host pathetically loved you for years.” Your eyes cut to his.

“What?”

“You heard me. What an idiot he was, thinking you could save him.” You saw red. You charged without even thinking, your powers flaring up as you hit All for One square in the jaw. He lost a few steps, blood dripping from his lips as he laughed and laughed and laughed. “You’re bold.” He said and you burned. You only had one good arm and you hit him again and again until you couldn’t feel your knuckles, your hand bruised and battered. You screamed to let Tomura free but your words fell to uncaring ears. All for One caught one of your punches and sent you flying. You crashed into some loose debris. You coughed up blood and dizzily tried to push yourself to your feet. Your endurance was gone, at this point you’d been fighting for hours. You were past your limit, undoubtedly bleeding externally and internally. But still you pushed to your feet only to be caught by the throat and slammed into the wall. All for One pinned you there, with your feet not touching the ground you gasped and sputtered for air. You kicked hard but All For One just laughed it off. “You’re a strong one, hero. I’ll give you a valiant death.” Fear gripped your heart and in a last ditch desperate act you grabbed the closest thing you could find and sunk it into the flesh of All for One’s arm. He didn’t budge. With his hand around your throat, blackness danced around the edge of your vision. You had no strength left. You were going to die.

“Tomura-” You struggled to breathe, your voice coming out in a choking gasp. Somehow… you’d grown to care. “Come…back.”

When you woke up it was a startling affair. You sat up quickly, gasping and reaching for your throat, you felt the tender flesh there, undoubtedly bruised. Warm covers fell from your body as you looked around. You were in some small cabin, a fire burning in the hearth, a soft orange glow lightening the room. You were bandaged up pretty thoroughly, your arm in a sling. You pushed the covers from your body and swung your legs around to the edge of the bed and that’s when you saw him. Sleeping soundly in the wooden rocker beside your bed was Tomura. His hair was damp and falling in stringy curls around his face. You stared at him, unable to look away. What had happened? It was clear to you that some time had passed since fighting All for One since it was dark outside. But how you got here and with Tomura was a complete mystery. You silently move to your feet and wrap the cover around your freezing body. You move towards the door, hand inching towards the door knob.

“Leaving without a word?” You flinch hard at his sleepy voice. Hand stopping before it touches the knob. You don’t turn to face him, ashamed after everything.

“Where am I?” You ask over your shoulder. You hear Tomura sit up in the chair.

“A cabin, safe.”

“Not good enough.” You snap, turning slightly. Your eyes meet and you instantly regret turning. Tomura is looking at you in a way that makes your stomach flip. Tomura stands and you pull the covers tighter around yourself. He walks to you and you take a step back. Was All for One still in control? Was this an act? As though he read your thoughts he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“It’s me.”

“How?” You question, keeping up your guard. Even if it was him the air between you two would still be foggy. He kissed you when you thought he was going to kill you. You weren’t sure at all where you stood.

“I heard you.” He says softly. “I heard your voice and it… gave me purpose.” He doesn’t reach for you but a part of you wishes he had. You hazard another look in his eyes. What was this spell that suddenly had such a tight hold over you? This feeling that only sprung when he first touched you. Just looking in his eyes made your knees weak. But you were good at maintaining a poker face.

“Purpose to finish the job yourself?” You ask. Tomura doesn’t react to your venom, it was as though he expected it. He looks away from you.

“I won’t ever kill you. Not even if my life depended on it.” He says. You stare at him.

“I don’t understand.”

“You… affected me, hero. It’s not something I can… explain exactly.”

“Try.” You say sharply. Tomura looked slightly stressed, he ran a hand through his hair, his shirt popping up slightly. You blush and turn away. Tomura couldn’t even imagine this moment in a million years. You, standing mere feet from him, cheeks pink, moments from a confession he didn’t even know how to word. He was sure his kiss spoke volumes.

“It’s rather simple,” He starts, taking a hazardous step towards you. Your eyes cut up to his, watching his every move. “I don’t think of you as my enemy.” You suck in a silent breath, your lips parting in surprise. You didn’t have to ask what he meant by that. You were sure that kiss was a power move and that he’d gotten the better of you. But it seems you have had the better of him for quite a while. You pulled the cover closer as though it could shield you from something you didn’t quite understand just yet. But… you wanted to understand.

“You saved me. From Dabi’s fire weeks ago. I… never got to thank you.”

“You being alive is thanks enough.” Tomura says. Your heart skips in your chest. You breathe in somewhat unsteadily.

“How long… How long was I out?” You ask, clearing your throat.

“Just a few hours. After I got control back everything sort of fell into chaos so I just grabbed you and ran.”

“You patched me up too?” You ask and Tomura nods his head.

“You should rest some more. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

“I don’t trust you.” You say. Tomura looks hurt by that but more so he looks like he understands, after all this was all sort of new territory. Tomura had no intention of forcing you to do anything, after everything you two had been through he’d be delusional to think you’d up and change how you thought about him in one day. He never thought that could even be possible, that someone could trust him enough to love him. That someone could look at him, perceive him and know him to his very core and choose to stay. He’d stay for you. But he didn’t expect you to stay for him.

“That’s okay. Are you hungry?” He asks softly. Your eyes meet again. This time tension builds properly and you're reminded how he kissed you. How he grabbed you like a starving man and slamming his lips against your own as though he’d rather do that than breathe. You blush at the thought.

“I need to go. I need to tell my team I’m alive.” You say.

“Stay. Just this one night. I’ll even leave. Just stay, eat something, rest and leave in the morning.” Tomura says, almost like a plea. You swallow, something in his tone had your stomach twisting. You were in trouble. Deep trouble.

“I… I can’t stay.” You shake your head, dropping the cover and reaching for your clothes but Tomura catches your wrist. His grip is gentle and he’s stepped much closer to you.

“Don’t go.” He pleaded. You couldn’t even speak, not with him this close. You're not sure where your composure had gone but you sorely missed it at this moment. “Just one night-” You cut off his sentence, pressing your lips to his. He got to surprise you once, now it was your turn.

A curiosity burned inside you, a need to feel the way you felt when he kissed you that first time. Tomura melted at your touch, he groaned against your lips and stepped fully into your space, gently walking you back against the cabin door. A heat burned in the pit of your stomach, only his touch satiated it. Your body ached from the earlier fight, scar and bruises stinging with every movement. But you didn’t care. You dragged Tomura to the bed and pulled him down on top of you. You kissed him hard, kissed him with a need to understand him. To crack him open and live inside. He pulled back just slightly.

“Do you really want this-” You grabbed his shirt and showed him exactly what you wanted. All those sleepless nights, thinking of him. You could solve all the mysteries now. You wanted him horribly bad. Clothes were shed, breaths shared. Tomura was careful with you because of your injuries and although you didn’t exactly want that it was nice not being in complete pain during all this ecstasy. Tomura kissed everything he could, he mapped you out. Wanting to carve the sight of you beneath him into his own skin. To remember this night for years to come. He didn’t expect this lapse of judgment to be a recurring thing. He fully expected you to come to your senses and be gone in the morning. The vicious cycle back in effect. But he wouldn’t fight you any longer. If you wanted to win all you needed to do was ask. Tomura kissed his way back up to your mouth. Your eager touches almost sent him over the edge. Tomura wanted to take things slow but it felt achingly slow, he was just as eager as you. He wanted to see the reactions on your face when he touched you there, wanted to catalog every sound, every noise that escaped your pink lips. He wanted to be rough, it was in his nature but he just couldn’t, he just wanted to kiss you, you were very dear to him. To be close to you. He wanted the soft touches, but above all he wanted the reassurance, even if he knew he could never have it. You could feel it, so you flipped around and pressed him into the covers. He gasped beneath you. If this was anything like your fights you’d come out on top. You leaned and kissed his lips, you trailed kisses to his neck and savored his labored breaths and small whimpers. You barely moved your hips against his, just to amp up the tension. You wanted so badly for years to hold a win over his head, to conquer him but you never thought it would be in such a different context. You tangled a hand in his hair and left marks on his neck. He twitched beneath you, his gentle grip on your hips slowly tightening. You could tell he was holding back. Maybe because you were so injured.You had realized you had been moving sort of fast, consumed by the moment. So consumed that when your hurt arm hit the bed it sent a sobering pain through you like nothing before. Tomura sat up, gently helping your arm back into the sling, careful hands brushing your hair from your face.

“We should stop… I don’t want you injuring that arm anymore.” He says softly as you nod in agreement. He rises from the bed and disappears into the kitchen for a moment before coming back with some food and medicine. As he watched you eat he thought about what he wanted. He wanted you to be the one to stay. To break his curse and change the prophecy. He’d beg and plead if he needed to. Pray to anything above that would hear his desperate pleas. He just wanted you to stay.

“This is good.” You said. “Didn’t know you knew how to cook.” You say, realizing you really don’t know much about Tomura on a personal level. And that you did want to know him.

“I’m glad you like it.” He says, but it was clear his mind was somewhere else. He watched you with this sort of wanting expression.

“Have you eaten?” You ask and when you look up he leans just slightly to press a soft kiss to your lips. Your breath hitches as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Will you stay?” He whispers to you. You nod your head and his hands slide against your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, hand tangling in your hair as he drinks you in. How could you not stay?

237 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 10 days

Text

after izuku gets home from patrol he see's you already in bed asleep. normally you'd wait up but it's the early hours of the morning so it's understandable that you'd be asleep. you left him food for when he gets home, izuku is absolutely smitten with you, how can he not be, you're perfect, and right now the only thing he wants to eat is you.

you look so peaceful asleep. you're wearing a deku top and nothing else, like normal, you always wear his merch or clothes around the house, you practically insist, and right now you're looking so tempting. the top has risen up slightly, your soft thighs exposed.

he knows he shouldn't, you're sleeping and he doesn't want to wake you up but a little touching never hurt anyone right? he slides into bed behind and hesitantly wraps his arms around you, grazing his hands over your chest, there's no movement from you and he takes that as a sign that he can start touching you with more need, hungry to get his hands all over you.

he presses his body against yours and slowly ruts against you, pressing against your ass. he doesn't understand but somehow you feel more soft in your sleep. he grabs hold of one of your breasts and sinks his fingers in, groping to his hearts content. using your body after a stressful day is something he didn't realise he needed. there's nothing izuku likes more than marking you. if only he was able to move you around so he could bite your breasts...

your body is pliant right now. you're always so well behaved for him, letting him put you in any position he wants. you'd be so easy to turn around, you're a heavy sleeper as it is and izuku knows that even in your sleep you'll be good for him.

he grabs your love handles and shifts your body around so you're facing each other. your bodies are pressed against each other, your chests touching. feeling his body heat you press your head closer to him, seeking more warmth, even in your sleep he provides you with comfort.

izuku groans as you're closer than before, he can smell your shampoo and feel your breath against his. you're the most beautiful woman he's ever met, he'd do anything for you, he loves you so much.

he continues to rut into you, now in a different position, pressing his clothed cock against your plush thighs. he places soft and wet kisses down your neck and puts his hands under your top. he tenses as he see's you shiver and pauses his actions, you snuggle up closer to him and izuku relaxes once more into your hold. he runs his hands down your body, tracing light patterns against your skin.

he's getting so close, izuku glances up to look at you, still peacefully sleeping, and cums in his pants. izuku hadn't done that since he was a teenager, dry humping you in your sleep was something he did not think he'd be doing tonight. he wonders about when this could happen again, excited, albeit a little nervous too, he couldn't resist you if he tried.

he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep, his arm still under your top resting over your cute squishy tummy, and his still hard cock being kept warm in between your plush thighs.

2K notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 10 days

Text

ever since nanami met you, his personal space was always invaded. if he was soaking away in the bathtub, you'd be right there. if he fell asleep before you did, you'd snug yourself into his embrace when you're going to sleep.

he didn't mind it— after all, nanami was an enthusiast for physical touch and warmth from body heat instead of a blanket.

perhaps it's too much warmth now. the nights that he spent meticulously balancing cold and hot temperatures are now filled with hot and hot. on one side, there's you with a leg thrown over him. on the other side, there's a baby sleeping soundly on his torso.

it's now common for him to sweat a little, but who cares? there's now a baby in the picture, the euphoria he experiences is at its highest; his domestic family feelings have finally been met with reality. a little sweat is nothing.

again, the overpowering warmth keeps him awake— even when he's shirtless. nanami tries his best to not pay any mind to the drool that's settling on his chest from the baby's mouth. as long as it's peacefully quiet without cries that are louder than an alarm.

with his free hand, he cups your face, caressing the cheek with his fingers. he wants to lay a kiss on your forehead, but he can't risk unintentionally waking the infant. it saddens him, but the small, subconscious smile on your face from his touch is more than enough.

5K notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 11 days

Text

//yandere behaviors, minor blood mention (Izuku’s cheek gets cut)

the thing about yandere izuku is that he will accept you no matter what. He loves you irregardless of everything which slowly begins to drive you crazy. When he first takes you to your forever home (read: kidnaps you) you never gave up the screaming, kicking, punching and fighting back. One instance you remember well was during your first dinner as a “couple” where you shattered your plate and threatened izuku with one of the shards of glass. The man was a six foot something pro hero with biceps that could crush your head and he let you, he let you get near him, close enough to swipe his cheek with the glass and draw blood. He didn’t even look at you with a hint of disdain, let alone raise his voice or get aggressive with you. He just pulls you into a hug, taking the glass from you and holding you so tightly to his chest that your struggling meant nothing. You learn from the months? or years? that you’ve been kept inside the walls of his grandiose apartment that you are always, no matter what, seen as the most gorgeous and graceful thing to him. Nothing you can do shatters that image for the man and part of you hates it, wishes that he could hate you- feel some other emotion when interacting with you that wasn’t pure joy. If only he could react like a normal human being for once and break the sickening sense of routine normalcy that you’ve created in this “relationship.” But the other part of you has grown to love Izuku’s willingness to accept you as you are. It feels nice, knowing you won’t be judged. It’s comforting to know that after you throw a tantrum so fierce you pass out that he’ll be there to pet your head when you wake up and tell you to drink some water that “your throat must be in awful pain from all that screaming.” A part of you has grown to desire izuku and his unconditional love. You’re afraid to admit it but the more time passes under his roof you can feel that once small part of you becoming bigger and bigger until there’s but a speck of resistance in you.

240 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 11 days

Text

ooohhh how i love insecure shoto who makes himself cry just a lil harder when he realizes you stay coddling and praising him that much longer.

he can’t get enough of your sweet voice, soft hands, worried frown while your chubby cheeks are puffed out while you fret and dan over him, letting his messy hair and pressing only the most loving of kisses on his wet hot cheeks.

and ooohh how pitiful he feels when he collapses in your arms, wailing and hiccuping his way through the latest rant about how lost and broken he feels, but ohh it feels so devilishly good to have you soak up all his hurt and soothe him, whispers of heaven and perfection and ‘i love you’s clouding his vision and dizzying his mind as he struggles to relax, melting away into your warm arms with a shameful shiver.

135 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 11 days

Text

deku is just so. warm. even when you want to hate or dislike him, you can't because he is so warm. charming, friendly, awkward and down to earth. but he lacks the kind of finesse for socializing that someone like kirishima or denki might have. it's not so easy or smooth for deku, it's all practice but more importantly intentional.

you can try to hate him. you do try to hate him. to be contrary or different or perhaps because you don't care to admit how good being around him makes you feel. you get pointlessly envious over the ways he makes you feel special and looked at and that makes you more mad. you'll lash out at him petulantly as a result and it's embarrassing as hell because he's never been anything but nice to you.

and he'll just. keep being nice to you. he's so utterly, frustratingly charming in the way he deals with your gloominess or stress. he's so warm and gentle and big because of his quirk - tall and broad and smells good. he's so, so warm. you know if you're not careful, not so so carefully - you'll fall head over heels in love.

next time you'll see him, no matter what - you know he'll smile and blush and stutter around you like always and he'll pay such good attention to you. he'll remember the details you sparingly gave him because you want to refuse him so bad but he's just so hard to ignore. and you'll realize it was already too late, completely inevitable for you to fall madly, madly in love.

614 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 14 days

Text

cw for ; cheating like really bad cheating dskfsk, mind games, bisexual reader (its relevant!!!), emotional sadism, yandere in the most uncomfortable flavor, and sexuality fuckery.

readers gender is intentionally left neutral!!. @p00pdev1l tag for my beloved.

You can feel yourself starting to cry again.

You have a headache. The noise of the izakaya is flooding out into the streets. Even with alcohol and cigarettes and other distractions, you can't help but feel like you're about to throw up. The dry-heave works itself up to your throat, and you smoke a little to shove it back down.

You were careful this time.

When you hear footsteps walk themselves next to you, and see nice black dress shoes from your gaze is downcast - you already know it's Suguru.

You feel yourself getting sick again. Your voice is hoarse, scratchy with pain and tears. You're unimaginably angry at him, and you're sure if you were a little drunker, you'd take your pocket knife to his throat.

But the words don't come. You're so frustrated you just ended up crying again, hiccuping. Something falls onto your shoulders, a jacket that smells like cologne.

That wakes you up, makes you turn your head to one side. Your heartbeat is hard and loud, and your anger is the only thing in your body. Your seething, all hard lines and rage.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He shrugs. "It's cold. You'll get sick."

"Don't act like you give a single fuck about me, you psychopath."

His reaction to that is cold. Makes your blood run cold. "Call me whatever you want but don't say I don't care about you."

"Fuck off, Suguru," The feeling of his name is intimate in the same way knives are. Sharp against the roof of your mouth because of the smooth way the syllables slice. The familiarity of a cut. "Go inside and fuck off. Go be with..." Your words trail off.

"I'd rather be out here," He assures, then shrugs. He joins you in smoking, but you turn your gaze back to the pavement so you don't have to look. "She'll be fine without me."

There's a lot of things you don't understand about him. What you understand least though is this. How long has it gone on? How long did he plan on doing this?

The first time Getou stole the girl you loved from you, you're nearly too heartbroken to stay friends with him. It was your first real crush. A girl in the same year as you. You loved her. She smelled soft like roses and put her head in your lap. You managed to confess to her despite yourself at the end of your second-year.

She was your friend, still - even as she let you down gently. Told you that she had a boyfriend now. He was your friend, actually.

The first time it happened, you thought about cutting your ties with Getou. He didn't pretend to be apologetic to you, said she was cute and he liked her. He didn't say he was sorry.

Instead he said: "You shouldn't be with a girl who could get over you so easily." And leaves it at that.

You almost got physical with him, you remember. Gojo stopped you.

Over the years, the incident becomes pattern enough to recognize. The first is a mistake, the second a frustrating coincidence. The third time it happens you do get into an altercation. Each time Getou confronts you he says the same thing. That if a girl really loved you, she wouldn't been with him so easily. If a girl really loved you, she shouldn't have been so easy for him to persuade.

You think abut killing him. It's so frustrating, so humiliating, so painful it nearly puts you in therapy. The fourth time in happens, you try to cut him off but you can't. Your lives are so tied together you can't avoid seeing him and for whatever reason he can't leave you alone.

When there's no one you're interested in, he's your friend after all. That's the strangest part. The part that makes the least sense, that he acts like your fucking friend when he does that to you but he does it again and again and again. It hurt less when it was just puppy crushes. Eventually you grew numb to it. Gave up on love for a while.

When you meet Mikoto, you don't make the mistake of showing your interest. You especially don't show it around Getou. On the job, a sorcerer from a branch in the Nara prefecture who's recently moved. A nice woman with black hair and soft eyes, you seek her friendship first and don't let yourself indulge in anything more.

You don't dote on her more than friends. You don't show your feelings off. You don't tell anyone, not even Gojo whom you tell everything, or Shoko - who you tell when you don't want Getou finding out. You bury the feeling of love in yourself and hope they die there. You hope she ends up with anyone but you, or you in some miracle.

You fall in love with her because it's who you are. Getou shows up with her at your gathering the minute you begin to accept it.

If he doesn't hate you, it must be something much stronger. Disgust or pure disdain. Something stronger than hate must drive him to do this so perpetually.

It's not even something you can tell anyone. What do you tell girls before you go out with them? What do you say to people when they ask why you and him act so odd?

There's nothing to say. Nothing to explain. It's so fucked up that you wouldn't even know where to begin.

Your voice is trembling as you take another drag of your cigarette. "How did you know?"

He laughs a little. "You make it obvious."

"Why do you keep doing this to me...?" You ask, defeated. Broken, maybe. "....I really loved her."

Getou shrugs again. You can tell even if you don't see it. "She was the same as the rest of them. I'm doing you a favor."

"Do you even like her?"

He takes a drag of his cigarette and looks at you a little longer than you expct. "So-so."

"I hate you," You give up on everything else, letting your cigarette fall to the ground. Your voice is shot. "You're fucking horrible. Just leave me alone. Please, please just leave me alone."

There's a minute of silence there. He stamps his own cigarette out and sighs. "You should come in. You'll catch a cold." You don't reply. He sighs again. "I'll buy you a drink."

You break down in tears all over again.

When you're in highschool, you date Satoru for a week.

Suguru remembers this. It's one of the only things about his highschool experience that feel standout. A defining moment of his youth, where the two of you try it just because everyone says you should and neither of you really like it. You end up being friends again, laughing it off after it happens.

But he hated it.

There was a pit in his stomach the entire week. Even though you barely dated, and only really held hands as a joke - Suguru hated it. You kissed Satoru too, you confessed. He was a decent kisser, but you didn't feel much.

It was a joke of a relationship. Still.

He remembers too, the first time you had your first real crush. Up until then, you'd really never thought of anyone else. There was no one for Suguru to care about. But he remembers exactly when it happened, and where - how the four of you were slacking off in the storage room, passing around Shoko's cigarette. He remembers the way you got embarrassed telling them about her. How you could barely keep the smile off of your face.

The first time Suguru steals someone from you, it's during highschool. It wasn't because he had really wanted her. He hated her. Hated how she smiled at you and hated how innocently she spoke. But when he stepped closer to her, she blushed.

It was to get her to fall for him. And that wouldn't do, he didn't think. How could you like someone with so little resolve? When she couldn't be even a little loyal to you?

He asked her out on a whim that time. But he saw how angry it made you. How your eyes were wet with tears and how much you hated him in that moment.

How much you thought of him. Have you ever before then? Considered him so much? Suguru didn't think so.

It becomes an obsession, Suguru can admit. It didn't really matter who it was, though it'd been mostly girls. Anyone you showed interest in. Anyone who caught your eye. Suguru got their first and you always, always looked so miserable about it. Like a puppy who can't get on a couch, he thinks.

He prefers when you've already been with them. He prefers knowing that your skin has touched theirs. The parts of you that linger in their life become Suguru's so wholly. When he can smell your scent and taste your cigarette smoke. It'd be better if it was you, but there was something gratifying in this.

In the roundabout ways of finding you. Of seeing pictures of you in their phone, or of tasting you. It's like being with you, even though it's never enough. Always wants to make him break you more.

He likes when they cheat on you with him. He likes when it's just after. They get some cheap thrill out of it. Suguru can entertain it even if it disgusts him.

It's the only way your shirts end up in his closet. The only way he can smell your new shampoo so deeply because you share it. They think that he must hate you. He's sure you think that too.

But that's not it. He couldn't hate you. All the people he's ever fucked, he's tried to find evidence of your intimacy with them. Kiss marks he didn't leave on their skin, clothes they don't own, music they wouldn't normally listen to. You would. They're all yours.

He'd ask about you to them. Often. Listen to the parts of yourself that you'd been trying to keep secret from him.

He'd take it all by force and discard them all afterwards. That was all he wanted. You were all he wanted.

He liked seeing you angry with him. Liked seeing you cry and weep. Liked that you couldn't go anywhere or love anyone without thoughts of him following you and haunting you.

Satoru thinks he should just ask you out already. Suguru doesn't think he's broken you down enough. You need it to hurt a little more. You need to think of him a little more until you can't love anyone else.

Suguru wants to see you hurt a little more. Until you're so broken you're really begging. When he brings her with him today, you react even worse than he could have hoped for it. He shivers a little thinking about it.

He's getting closer to really breaking you, he thinks.

He looks at you now as he puts out his cigarette, broken from his thoughts.

"You should come in. You'll catch a cold." You don't reply. He sighs again. "I'll buy you a drink."

Suguru turns around to leave after he says it. Goes back inside. Before the door of the izakaya closes again, he can hear the way you sob so desperately.

He smiles at that. Just a little.

193 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 14 days

Text

I keep thinking about shigaraki frightening you on an empty train. It’s night, and you two are the last passengers. He’s been staring out at you from beneath his dark hoodie for a while now and you’re trying to ignore it, but it’s starting to freak you out. You’re both riding to the end of the line, and when you get off his footsteps are a breath away, his shadow eclipsing yours. He’s following you.

You’re reaching for your phone, keys, anything. And then a hand is on your shoulder.

‘Oi.’

It’s him, pale and shadowed, eyes like murder. His spidered fingers flex over your bone, nails catching the fabric of your top. He’ll kill you now. Or have his way with you. Or both.

‘You dropped this.’ Shigaraki holds his other hand out, your train-card flat on his palm.

You blink at him and take it gingerly, blush spreading through your cheeks. ‘Um, thanks,’ you say.

Shigaraki simply rolls his eyes and let’s you go, disappearing into the black dark of the street beyond.

322 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 14 days

Text

Shigaraki who thinks staring is flirting. Who wants you so bad, but refuses to say anything ever.

He stares instead. Those red eyes tracking you, following you, sneaking glimpses whenever he can. And of course you should be able to understand that he wants you from those looks alone. The longer you don’t realise, the more annoyed, more frustrated he gets.

This urge to touch you, bend you over, have you straddle him and push him down and breathe him in while he shuts his eyes against your lips, is overwhelming. It makes him itch. Makes him stare.

Someday, you’ll get the hint, approach him and touch him. Someday, you’ll get it. For now, get used to be glared at.

499 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 17 days

Text

Accidentally ruining Alpha Bakugou’s relationship with his now ex mate.

Not because he cheated or even because you're too close to each other. In fact, you're practically strangers.

Just an Omega who was in a desperate situation that he couldn't leave out of guilt. It's not his fault your home was collateral damage in that villain fight, sure but you lost everything. He felt almost obligated to help until the city found you new housing as mandated.

Unfortunately, it's kinda hard to explain the hotel room and nesting supplies on your bank statement to your mate. Well, it's not hard, but convincing her you weren't a threat was. No amount of distance or an introduction could convince her he wasn't cheating. Hell, she even had his location, and she still didn't believe him because “I'm not stupid, you probably had Kirishima take your phone so you could see your little slut!”

That was his final straw, it's one thing to be understandably upset, another to call who he is as a person and Alpha into question. Not to mention completely unnecessary to drag others into her delusions.

Now he's in your hotel room to drop off new clothes because again, you lost everything. He's newly single and not looking to jump into anything, but he sees why his ex was so worried about you now.

You chirp excitedly at his gifts and it hits him that this is why every Alpha he knows tends to go overboard with their courting gifts. That look of pure genuine joy. He can't get it out of his mind, he doesn't remember his ex ever looking at him like that.

707 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 23 days

Text

You’re reaching for your phone, keys, anything. And then a hand is on your shoulder.

‘Oi.’

It’s him, pale and shadowed, eyes like murder. His spidered fingers flex over your bone, nails catching the fabric of your top. He’ll kill you now. Or have his way with you. Or both.

‘You dropped this.’ Shigaraki holds his other hand out, your train-card flat on his palm.

You blink at him and take it gingerly, blush spreading through your cheeks. ‘Um, thanks,’ you say.

Shigaraki simply rolls his eyes and let’s you go, disappearing into the black dark of the street beyond.

322 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 25 days

Text

I think there's something beautiful in how destructive the way shigaraki loves you is, because he honest to god is so afraid of it its terrifying.

Not in the 'shy stolen glances' and quiet compliments. But instead its the reaching out for you, desperately wanting to feel your skin and hold you carefully but he leaves claw marks instead.

He cant love quietly, or peacefully. He hurts you badly, and he doesn't mean it. He swears he doesn't. But he can't understand why the urge to control you is so strong and why he feels suffocated when you leave.

His anxious attachment style shows clearly too, hes either all over you and telling you everything he does is for you and other days you barely get a glance.

but god you love him, and he hates himself for letting you love him because a good leader wouldn't let that happen. A good leader whouldve quelled your little crush because your adoration was going to get you hurt in a way he couldn't possibly prepare for.

So he loves you the only way he knows how ans bites and marks every inch of you. Mind, body, and soul. You let him, because it shows that he actually wants you, and it isnt one sided. he loves you so so so so much he wants to open your ribs and replace your lungs so all you can breathe is him.

Shigaraki is obsessed with you, and Shigaraki is in love with you and the way you worship him like breathing. Its terrible for him, he knows. But he simply can't let it go, not when youre so warm and so so full of him.

566 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 25 days

Text

nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all.

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you.

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it.

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.

13K notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 25 days

Text

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4

Then

“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.

You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.

“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.

On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.

Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”

Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.

You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.

“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.

As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.

You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.

Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.

“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”

Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”

You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”

Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”

You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”

Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.

You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.

“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.

“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.

“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.

Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.

“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.

You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.

You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”

You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.

“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”

Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.

“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

You pretended to think on this.

“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.

Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.

You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.

Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.

“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”

You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”

“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.

You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.

“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”

You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”

Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”

You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”

A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.

“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”

“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.

Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.

These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.

You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.

Now

The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.

Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.

You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.

Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.

“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.

Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.

Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.

You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.

That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.

“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.

“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”

Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”

You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.

“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.

You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.

With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.

You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.

You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.

Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.

“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.

You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”

Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.

“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.

You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”

Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”

Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.

You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”

Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”

You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”

Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.

“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.

A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”

“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.

That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”

You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”

Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”

Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.

“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.

Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”

You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”

It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.

Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.

“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.

“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.

“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”

Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”

“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.

“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.

The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.

The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”

You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”

Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”

Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.

No. That way lay danger.

Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.

“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.

Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.

It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.

“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.

You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.

Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.

You laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.

“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.

Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”

You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.

“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.

You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.

“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”

Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.

The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.

It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.

You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.

Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.

A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.

When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.

When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.

You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.

A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.

“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.

Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”

Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.

“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.

Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”

That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.

“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”

Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.

Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.

When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.

Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.

“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”

The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”

You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.

“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.

An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.

“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”

“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.

Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?

“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.

You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”

Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.

“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.

You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”

The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.

You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”

Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.

“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”

You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”

Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”

Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.

You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”

“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.

You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.

“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”

Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.

“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”

He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.

You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”

Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.

He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.

You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.

Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.

Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.

You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.

You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.

“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”

Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”

You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.

“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”

Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.

It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.

You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.

Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.

893 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 1 month

Text

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

1K notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 2 months

Text

the brunch

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru does not get jealous, just so everyone knows

a/n: (that previous statement was a lie) the brainrot is real

last part | next part

year four.

it’s a bit unusual for the house to be this filled, especially this early in the morning.

chatter echoes throughout the space, loud exclamations, and secret whispers, all making up a terrible-sounding symphony.

megumi and tsumiki are playing some elaborate board game with onlookers on the coffee table, both of them smiling proudly.

satoru is trying to tidy up the many different plates and cups everyone's left lying around, laughing when shoko rolls her eyes at something he's just said.

and you're in the kitchen, talking with nanami like you haven't seen him in several years--it's been three weeks.

it's very strange for the four of you. to let anyone--not to mention a dozen people--intrude on your carefully planned out saturday mornings. to invite others into your world of burnt breakfasts and uncombed bedhead.

but here you all are, managing.

and you’d reminded satoru probably seventeen times—too many times, he thinks, with far too many knowing glances—that hosting was not something to be taken lightly (and that you weren’t going to help him ((both of you know that you are)).

but he doesn’t mind this.

the crowded house, or the many different phone calls he had to make about getting this party (which he swore wasn’t one) set up. the loud sounds or the inevitable cleanup he'll try to swindle his way out of.

it’s quite nice. actually, satoru is a little proud of his makeshift brunch, and the fact that everyone came, and everyone seems happy. he likes that he can barely hear his thoughts, that there's nothing important enough for him to think about anyway.

and honestly, with all of it going on, satoru should not be this discontented with the fact that you’re smiling at someone else.

he invited nanami because he knows that you miss him and that you’re too embarrassed to admit that. or too proud, maybe. too forgiving. and he knows that you wouldn’t have done it yourself, had he not gotten involved.

but still. should satoru really have to sit back and watch as you fawn over a man who wore a suit to casual brunch?

no, he should not, thank you.

"what's wrong with your face?" shoko asks him after the silence has drawn on for too long, sounding very uninterested.

satoru shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. "what?"

"you've got a weird look."

"no, i don't."

"it's like that time that you chugged the entire carton of expired milk someone left in the fridge."

"don't remind me," he says, trying to put on a theatrical wince, but he just ends up looking back at you, with a blank face.

there is no time for joking, or flamboyancy, or caring about anything else in the world.

shoko does the same, her eyes trailing where his are, watching as you tilt your head at nanami, laughing when he murmurs something.

in typical nanami fashion, his lips only twitch a little bit, but it's enough to tell that he's amused by whatever conversation you're having.

that he's got your full attention, and he gets to watch your eyes as they shift from one glance to another and--

shoko nods, looking back to satoru, who is trapped in his stare. chained down at the mere thought of you. "oh," she says, rolling her eyes.

satoru doesn't look away, but grunts in the form of a question.

"you're an idiot, you know that?"

he frowns. "what?"

her eyes are exasperated, and her smile is all-knowing. she has always alluded satoru, and his very short attention span. and he kind of hates her, at this moment, for distracting him.

"seriously," she scoffs at his perturbed face, "after a whole year of living basically in the same room, i thought that the two of you would finally get over it."

"who?" satoru asks, smiling confusedly. "get over what?"

"you. get over yourself. honestly, only you and y/n would raise two kids together and pretend like there's no intimacy in it."

"what?"' satoru repeats, dumbly.

"and, by the way," shoko tells him, sipping on her drink. "jealousy is not cute."

and then she walks away, like she's answered a single one of satoru's questions.

and he frowns, thinking about it.

because--no, there's no way she was talking about him--he shakes his head. where would she even have gotten that idea? there's--

no.

and it’s—it’s not jealousy. he laughs off that thought.

satoru gojo is the strongest. he's the one everyone looks to. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

and besides satoru knows that you don’t get enough time away from your discombobulated family. that your life revolves around them, and they around you.

and the two of you have talked—at length—about the fact that you’re both young, and neither of you should live the lifestyle of some middle-aged parents, with no way to connect with the people in your age group. the people that would’ve been your family, in some alternate universe.

satoru knows that you don’t carve out the things that you need without being asked to, that you get anxious about these types of occasions--he's watched it happen before, when you were forced into a corner at one exchange event the two of you shared, or when yaga took you all out to dinner, and you'd shrink yourself in your seat until someone noticed.

he's seen you try to make yourself smaller at the convenience of others, and as he's grown (he almost winces at the thought) satoru has sworn to himself that he'd keep you from any situation where that might be necessary.

so he shouldn’t--he doesn't--mind that you’re having a good time. he should be--is--happy with himself, for setting it up so you could, for planning it around you, and the kids. he should be preparing himself to gloat in your face about the fact that he thought of this, and he set it up all on his own.

god. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

but that doesn't change the fact that satoru can't really see beyond you, ten feet away from him, laughing at something that nanami said.

and maybe it's not the fact that you're talking to him, or that you're smiling at him like satoru wants to be smiled at, he thinks, but more that you don't act that way with him.

satoru is well aware of the grounds in your relationship, and he knows that you spend most of your days rolling your eyes at the obnoxious things that he says, trying to protect the children--and him--from the antics that you've all grown used to.

he's not jealous, but maybe he's a little bit annoyed that he hasn't seen you this easy, and light since you were still in school. since you were still younger than him, and still someone he could look down upon.

you cling to nanami like satoru clings to you, he realizes, sullenly. you smile and tease--if just the way your eyes crinkle means anything.

you grin at nanami like you're trying to irritate him. like you're the reckless one between the two.

and maybe it hurts satoru more just to know that you are the reckless one.

he'd lived with the two of you for three years. he'd experienced nanami's typical brooding--which, now, reminds him a lot of megumi, actually--and the way he'd think through everything. maybe a little bit too much, even.

satoru was always there to watch you giggle alongside the austere man, pull him out of whatever thought process was darkening the mood, and remind him that none of it was all that serious.

satoru knows--he knows--that you and him are similar. he knows that it's why he feels the way he does with you. that the way the two of you dance around your emotions, and say nothing that you truly mean is something to cherish, if also something to despise.

he's not jealous, but maybe it hurts satoru because he knows that you've never been able to truly not care, with him. that he takes up all of the ignorance one household can get, even without meaning to.

or maybe it's just been a long time since he got the chance to watch you interact with anyone else.

maybe he's just ridiculous, and he should go do something else before he thinks about this for too long. shoko is wrong, though, he thinks. he's definitely not jealous.

he's satoru gojo. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

but he's still watching when you shake your head at something nanami says, tapping him on the shoulder and excusing yourself while waving him on, still light and airy, eyes meeting satoru's with that same grin.

it's probably worse to know that it doesn't quite belong to him. that he's not the sole benefactor of it all.

"hey," you say, bumping into him on purpose when you come over, your hands wrapping around his forearm as you lean on him. "need help?"

"nah, i've got it," he finally looks away. he doesn't want to watch this.

but you're still grinning at him, trying to catch his eye--even with the sunglasses. "you're all alone over here," you coo, "i can help you clean up."

satoru snorts. "i thought you weren't going to help with anything."

"well, since i'm already here..." you drawl, beginning to pick up spare utensils, and napkins. all of the things he'd been too distracted to do.

you're humming as you do it, completely content with everything.

satoru tries not to grind his teeth at the fact that your mood is not because of him.

"how's nanami?" he asks, unprecendented, after a moment.

you shrug. "he's good. i guess the real world sucks too," you say it with a lilt, like there's an inside joke that satoru is missing.

he shakes his head, trying to keep his words civil. "the real world?"

"the corporate universe, and laws of reality, or whatever," you roll your eyes, and you sound exactly like him. "no curses or magic to liven things up."

"no monsters, you mean."

"or that," you smile at him, looking almost giddy.

satoru hums.

you put all of the trash you've collected on a serving dish, piling things up without a care in the world. and then you turn towards satoru, and he can feel your slight frown before he can see it. "you okay?" you ask him.

satoru freezes. "what?"

"is it getting to you? the brunch?"

"what? no, i'm fine," he tries to look at you like you're ridiculous, but his face feels stiff, and wrong, and far too happy for you.

"you look like your tongue is too big to fit in your mouth."

he sticks his tongue out, almost on command. "does it look any different?"

"hmm," you pretend to observe. "yeah. might want to see a doctor about it."

"noted."

"are you trying not to laugh at something? you can tell me if i have something on my face, you know."

satoru's smile is a bit easier at that, but he shakes his head anyway. he kind of wants to run away to his room--something he's learned from raising two children. "no, i'm just thinking."

you raise a brow.

satoru scowls. "what? you didn't think it was possible?"

"no, not really."

he shakes his head. he tries to turn away, scoffing like it's a joke (it's not), but your hand reaches for his bicep before he can.

"hey," you say to him. he turns back to you, and your smile, nose scrunched up as you lean in. "how are you?"

"busy. i have to go make sure there's enough ice in that bucket."

"i'll come with you," you say, even though you both know that he's lying.

"no. i'm sure nanami has more he wants to talk with you about."

"is that what this is about? nanami? are you mad at him, or something?"

"why would i be mad at him?"

"i don't know, satoru, your brain is a confusing thing," you tug on his hair just a little bit. "hey, c'mon. why're you upset?"

"i'm not upset."

satoru should be basking in your attention, but he can't quite bring himself to notice it. or that you spend every day with him--mostly without complaint--and never fail to laugh at something he says.

no, his thoughts are not very organized, at the moment.

"you've got your little angry pout on," you nudge his lips with a finger. "i think you've been spending too much time with megumi."

he grabs your hand, trying not to squeeze. "i'm fine. go hang out. you're not supposed to be helping me."

this time, you pout. "you don't want to spend time with me?"

he groans, throwing his head back. "i'm trying to be nice," he tells you. "you know, like how you're always telling me to?"

"ew," you say, giggling a little bit. "i don't like it."

he rolls his eyes.

"seriously, come hang out with me and the kids. we can beat them at charades, or something, again. you need a little pep in your step."

"what are you, my mom?" he deadpans but feels his heart twitch a little bit because you're still holding onto him.

"might as well be. take a break, satoru, i miss you."

you say it so easily and nonchalantly that satoru wants to pick you up and lock you in a little box, just so you can never talk to anyone but him again.

he stares at you, blinking beneath his glasses, feeling like you're doing all of this just to mess with him.

honestly, whiplash is a serious condition.

you smile at him, fluttering your eyelashes unknowingly, pouting at him a little bit, even through the smile.

and satoru's never been able to say no to you, so he lets you pull him with you, back to the kitchen, where you grab nanami too--to the dismay of satoru, of course. he tries not to glare.

and satoru chooses to ignore the discerning look that nanami sends him, and the fact that his arm tightens around your waist as you drag the two men along.

he's not jealous. god, it's just very loud in here.

somewhere several minutes earlier, when the two of you were standing just a little bit too close to each other, both of you pouting, looking like two children fighting over a toy--you had a couple of spectators.

shoko scoffs, shaking her head. "that's disgusting."

you're on your tiptoes, head tilted as you purr something to satoru. they can't see his eyes from twenty feet away, but they can all tell that they're stuck on you. glued, never to be torn away.

megumi looks at the woman, then follows her eyes to the two of you, blank-faced.

tsumiki giggles.

"we know," they both say, rolling their eyes.

next part | series masterlist

726 notes · View notes

theveiledmaiden · 2 months

Text

Just One Week (10)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

also on my ao3: diluclover300

CHAPTER INDEX:

I H8 U

My Kinda Fun

Balance

{S] Awake

Eggs and Rice

Wait, but I'm broke

Couple's Discount

Waffles + Cream

Karaoke Night

KFC

CHAPTER 10: KFC

...

If objects could speak, you'd interview the skyscrapers of New York and Hong Kong with only one question in mind - "How does it feel to be so tall?"

You can now confidentially answer that for yourself - "It feels great."

Your tongue already gave yourself away earlier, but you meant every word in that short sentence. Gojo Satoru has grown a lot more than you remember. It was no illusion, nor was it a trick deceiving your own two eyes. Those ripples of fabric, clinging onto each defined, humanly shaped bulge are muscle. You were resting against the very product of his blood, sweat, and tears, some of which you can easily recognize, and others who turn out to be complete strangers. Unfamiliarity overtakes you.

"You're really fuckin' tall." You re-tighten your arms around his neck, trying to strangle an answer out of him. Perhaps that was your oddly creative imagination.

"I-" He lifts his neck up, swallowing at the pressure. You're strong. "I've always been tall."

"I guess so." You roll your eyes, slumping against his rather sturdy back. He's the strongest of them all, you justify your action, agreeing with how you put a little extra weight on his shoulder. It'll be his little workout. "Yeah, I guess so."

You hate it, being puny and short to the all-mighty Gojo Satoru, but a threat to anyone below that haughty title. You're not a weak little thing, heck, if they forced you back into jujutsu society, you'd punt his ass real good. You'd be the strongest, at the very tip of that tall iceberg.

"I don't have any friends." You hum out, scanning your surroundings like a watchtower. "Not a single one."

This is the city, all right, engulfed in cold, turbulous winds from the bay area as the crickets sing for the nightlife. The countless buildings of restaurants, bars, and nameless shops come and go at their convenience, not bothering to say a little farewell before they depart ways. It's cruel.

"You don't?" Satoru locks his arms over and under your legs, pushing them further up his sides. You keep moving. "What about Nanami?"

Nanami Kento. The name takes you back, it used to fill you up with hope, and the very mention had you oozing with respect.

"This again?" You scowl, securing your chin onto his shoulder. It's warm there. "Well, y'know, I talked to him, but..."

You stop with another mindless, light hum, slowly resting your eyes against the light breeze when the lights of the city begin to blind you. You feel tall, so free that you might as well be escaping the cage that is gravity. You're flying and the wind glides along your humble wings, keeping you afloat.

"...but?" He presses the matter further, sluggish in his steps and breaths slower when you rest in the crook of his neck without warning. It's another problem he won't ever get to solving, not because he can't - he just doesn't find the need to.

"..b-u-t..." You sing each letter to yourself, yearning for another pre-written lyric to hover in the sky among the many stars as you grasp onto a sleek microphone. Your voice would be the very subject of conversation.

You liked that conversation a lot more than you anticipated, a lot more than you'd like to admit. Oh, how the instruments danced and twinkled along your timbre. How time slowed, how each minute mattered as much as the last.

You miss it already.

"... I didn't want him- er, no, me... yeah, me, to get the wrong idea." You smile, tired as your cheeks sting. You're still as drunk as ever. The static of your brain is fulfilling.

"Whaddya mean?" Satoru looks up to the stars, air blowing out from his lips. There's a slight white fog that dissipates.

You think the answer is pretty straightforward.

"...uh... because I liked him? Yeah, I did." You say, confirming your doubts with a small nod. "He was cool, so I didn't wanna-"

"It's not bad to be alone." The answer leaves him restless.

"I don't know 'bout that 'cause I hate it a little bit." You whisper, elbows pressing into his shoulders. They are as steady as bricks and as wide as the universe. "... but Nanami, he-"

"You said he was miserable."

Satoru bites his tongue, impulsive with both his words and thoughts. The reek of sake fogs his patience, his rationality. His tone grows tenser with each mention of Nanami Kento, curiosity killing the cat indeed.

You think about it, and the accusation is the truest, most honest thing he's said all day. You called him miserable, you're guilty as charged.

"Yeah, well, yeah... I did." You confirm, guilt swarming your wings. "I said that, didn't I?"

Nanami Kento. You respected him. The feeling wasn't as simple as envy, no, it was a bit more than that - you admired him, really. He was an honest man, simple, hard-working, true to his words. If you weren't the same age as him then you'd at least pray that he was your senior at some point in your life. He was someone to look up to. Even so, you never talked much.

Still, the feeling was present, it became undeniable that you found his presence calming like the soft embers of a campfire.

"I'm wrong, maybe." You dwell on it, fighting the urge to doze off on his shoulder. "He, uh, I dunno, the last time I reached out to him, he looked..."

You try to sketch it out on your mental canvas with quick, fading strokes. The weak embers that kept you shivering, trembling against the otherwise unnoticeable breeze. Those slightly hollowed out cheeks, his small wrinkles, and his eyes. The core was pitted.

"Yeah, he looked real miserable."

Once you sensed it, his unease, your admiration began to chip away, the flames coaxed themselves. Nanami Kento was no longer the calm, composed man you knew him as. He too had changed.

"I didn't- hah, he's really unbelievable, but..."

It was like looking into a mirror.

"...but?" Satoru doesn't know whether he resents the sake anymore, whether he's grown fond of the smell or sick of it. Your words, some are warm and others hurt more than the last.

"I was, no, I am the same, haha..." You sleepily chuckle. "I was like, hey, he's fuckin' handsome, but I really can't-"

"You really can't." He finishes, fingers drilling into your legs as he repositions you. His steps start to sway to the rhythm of his uneven breaths. "You can't."

"Well, yeah." You shrug, deciding that was it. "I never did."

The pictures, all the memories blur together. What drew out your brave conclusion, that pitiful comparison was not your admiration, nor his calm demeanor. You came to it after you ran into him on a busy Friday afternoon on the subway, job hunting in Tokyo.

Nanami Kento, who once held his head up high succumbed to the likes of sheep. That white fur shielded him, he blended in well without putting up a fight. He accepted it.

He was not who you recalled from years ago. The embers were put out, every single one of them replaced with fur as pale as the moonlight, a foreign tongue, and strange horns.

And that was all there was to it - Kento Nanami was miserable. Your admiration was in vain, you left Friday disillusioned, numb to the joys of the weekend.

After that dose of reality, you never ran into him again. Because seeing the man that you so hoped to serve as an anchor, for his flames to re-kindle and hold you tightly... they instead left you with your head hung low.

You never ran into him again and moved to Osaka quietly, not leaving a single trace behind. You knew it was unfair to cut your conversation short, to run away as soon as those two doors slid open, but you did it anyways. It was unfair that you felt betrayed, let down by your own delusions.

Nanami Kento was no longer a jujutsu sorcerer, and you grew afraid of your own reflection. That was all there was to it.

"How is it?" You stretch out your fingers, clutching onto his shoulders. It's secure. Satoru flinches in between his steps, snapping his head to you.

"How is what?"

"Osaka. Do you like it?"

His chest relaxes, the subject abruptly changed. The breeze feels light. The weight on his shoulders is even better, as light as a feather. As soft as one too.

"All of a sudden?"

You nod, chin rubbing against the fabric of his shirt as you do.

He hasn't given it much thought, not until now. He looks around him, then up at the moon, and down at the sidewalk. It's the city, all right, with lights flashing down each block, taxis rushing through the roads as they haul strangers in and out.

He thinks it's typical, not much different from what he sees back home, until his eyes land on you. The extra weight on his shoulder that reeks of alcohol, cozying up on his shoulder, it's arms wrapped around him.

He looks again at the city, how the nightlife decorates the aged sidewalks, how the lights glimmer against each other. The amount of smiles, the warm ambience surrounding all these strangers as they roam the roads, crossing each sidewalk with small laughs.

"I like it. Osaka is-"

"Nah. I don't." You object, grabbing his lips with your cold fingers as you fumble around with the skin, twisting and turning. "I fuckin' hate this place."

"Hey-"

"Let me finish, moron." You tunnel his lips in your fist, leaving them with a firm smack. "It's suffocating, there's so many people! It's like they release swarms of 'em in the morning and hide 'em in the night."

"Of course you hate it." He jerks his head away, grumbling to himself when you make it harder from him to walk. You swerve him to the left, then the right, and finally, to the very middle of the sidewalk - where he belongs.

"Do you like anything?"

"I liked Nanami-"

What an unsatisfactory answer.

His elbow smacks onto the crosswalk call button with a slight grunt. "Not anymore." That revelation stands irrelevant as long as he's here. It always will.

"That's true."

You examine the spit coating your fingers, harshly wiping it down on his back. They were soft, easy to squeeze and mold in your grasp.

"Then, I dunno." You inhale, pushing your fingertips into his shoulders, re-balancing yourself in his hold. "Sorry, I just hate-"

"I know." He crosses after looking down both sides of the road. The words are tattooed onto your tongue, the ink of it glazed with your saliva. "You hate everything."

The crickets fill in the silence, the sound of tackling leaves accompanying nature's beat. Was Osaka always this peaceful? Maybe that was the sake warping your perception, you were just seeing the population unwinding in both numbers and intensity. They all walked with leisure, holding hands and cracking up half-assed jokes.

"Hey, Satoru, you..." You laugh, licking your lips moist as you take in the scenery. "I like some things a little bit."

"Yeah?" He replies, teeth digging into the flesh of his cheek. Carrying you is not as easy as he makes it out to be, not when your lips continue to brush against his neck with each word you say, with each move he takes. Unintentionally, he tells himself. You're drunk. "Like what?"

The wet run of your tongue wakes your appetite, the fact that you drank on an empty stomach growing more apparent with the smell of food lingering in the air. You're craving something that you don't hate.

"I like fried chicken." You suggest, your body giving yourself away for the second time when your stomach rumbles.

"Okay." He takes a left at the mention, luck on his side when he's met with a familiar sign just a couple of feet away. You're allowed to like this. This is relevant as far as he's concerned.

"Satoru, I'm hungry." You whine, burying your face into the crook of his neck when your stomach compresses against itself. "Feed me-"

"I get it." His breath hitches, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. You're close. "I'm taking you to KFC."

You whine a little more before rubbing your brows against his shoulder, itchy as the wind messes with your hair.

"Stop moving."

"M'kay." You don't register his words, sliding your face down and up his back. Did a mosquito bite you on your face? You're unusually itchy, the sensation making you feel warm and tingly. You do it again.

"I told you to stop."

"Sorry."

The small jingle of the door catches your attention. You look up only for the sweet smell of meat to fill your nostrils, stomach contracting at the mouth-watering wafts of fast-food filled air.

Then you turn to Satoru, who gently lowers you onto a nearby seat. "Let go."

You comply, unraveling your arms from his neck as heaps of shopping bags occupy your sides. You're tired.

"Don't move, okay?" He takes hold of your shoulders, placing you upright against the seat when your limpness gets the best of you.

"Got it." You nod, eyes half-lidded as you pat yourself awake, skin heavy and sluggish. "I won't move an inch."

"Good. Wait for me, okay?"

"O-k-a-y." You start to slouch, eyelids dragging further down your vision. "I'm waiting."

"Okay." He nods, slipping his hands away to rub his own skin. His neck burns unexpectedly, skin flaring up the more he wonders about it's cause.

Maybe it's best for it to be an afterthought, a mere problem that he'll deal with later, without you in the picture.

You try not to move much, staying true to your word as you watch him order. It's hard to hear, especially over the blaring music, so you focus on his expression instead. He's smiling just as he did in front of the waitress at the waffle shop, a strange almost sunlight like aura beaming from the action. After a while of exchanging sticky, gooey looks and words, he pulls out that handy card of his, pitch black as it shines against the ceiling lights.

Satoru laughs again once he's given his receipt, giving the girl at the register a light wave when she hands him a tray of food. She giggles like a schoolgirl.

"Here." Wow. It's like his personality from earlier sheds off like the scales of a snake, replaced with such an easy-going ring that you're sure of it now.

"You're a flirt." You deduce, crossing your arms with a sneer as he places the bucket of fried chicken in front of you.

"Hm?" He doesn't catch that, scooting his chair towards you when you lazily pick a leg out of the batch. "Did you say something?"

You rip off a bite, chewing with small grumbles. You can't believe you're associated with some kind of modern-day playboy. It's embarrassing.

"It's tasty, isn't it?" He reaches over for the packet of ketchup, peeling off the wrapper before placing it next to you.

You grumble again, a small 'thanks' as you scoop out a glob onto your half-eaten piece of chicken. Fast food tastes much better when you're not the one paying for it. You bet it'd be more worth it with a couple of beers, but you're convinced Satoru won't entertain your fantasies.

"You're making a mess..." He shakes his head, pulling the food away from your face as he snatches a napkin from the tray. "Come here."

You don't mean to, but your eyes meet with the cashier at the register. You clear your throat, thickly swallowing. The creak of your chair follows.

"Okay."

You scoot closer, and he holds your chin tightly, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he wipes your lips clean. His fingers push through the thin, frail paper, poking at the skin.

You lied to yourself, haven't you? This was your dilemma, hidden in plain sight. Was it a lie? Was this truly deceit?

Perhaps you feigned ignorance.

"Satoru, why do you just do that with every girl you meet?" You scoot away, using the napkin on your own now. "It's weird."

"Huh? What does that-"

"The waffle shop, like, you, ugh..." You groan, the napkin falling onto the table as you try to put it into words, tapping at your temples. "...You just kept flirting with her and stuff, like you kept smiling like an idiot, and... uh, what else?"

You don't know how else to put it, chewing on another piece of meat to make up for your lack of clarity. You want another drink.

"So what?" He grabs another packet, peeling it open. "You jealous?"

"You wish I was." You say in-between bites, rolling your eyes at the very suggestion. There goes another leg, a victim to your roaring appetite. "Keeping dreamin', 'cause it's never happenin'."

Your eyes meet with the poor girl at the register again and she quickly hides behind the walls of the kitchen. You feel bad.

"Look, she's looking over here because you kept flirting with her." You take the ketchup from his hand, biting off another piece. "It's fuckin' annoying."

Satoru doesn't know whether to laugh or apologize. He doesn't know why he feels the need to do the latter either. Whoever he flirts with should never concern you.

"Oh, come on, just ignore her." He betrays himself, sticking a straw between your lips when you frown. You reluctantly sip. "I won't do it again. I'm sorry."

You gulp, the water washing down the heavy breading of the chicken. He presses the cup further into your hold, pulling off his glasses at the opportunity. They clatter onto the tabletop, and your eyes travel to the shades before his fingers.

Satoru rubs his eyes, sighing to himself. "You're killing me."

You quirk a brow, swallowing another sip of water before dishing out a chicken leg from the bucket. You were killing the Gojo Satoru? The high and mighty jujutsu sorcerer of the modern age? That was unheard of.

Yeah, right.

"You should go back, y'know?" Your voice is muffled as you eat. Some crumbs litter your lap. "They need you to kick ass and shit."

"Am I the only sorcerer in Japan?" He laughs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The red-mark etched into his skin stings, a reminder of why he abandoned the flashy disguise in the first place. "They'll be fine without me."

You exhale deeply, swallowing another piece down your throat. That was easy for him to say, but no one else would ever agree. Gojo Satoru keeps this country afloat, he is the balance between both good and evil. Without him, you'd be as good as dead. Everyone would.

"You're a damn lucky bastard, all strong and shit." You look into the empty bucket filled with bare chicken bones. "You could kill me-"

"You talk too much."

"Yeah, anyway, I don't get it." You lazily cradle the bucket in your lap, avoiding his bare gaze. "Why did you come here? It's been five years."

Satoru reminds himself that he shouldn't talk back, that there was no sense in arguing when you were anything but sober.

"You finally remembered I existed or something?"

"I already told you." He looks over to you and then the bucket, grease dampening the flimsy carboard.

"It's not like you missed me, Satoru." Your fingers poke at the rims of the bucket, dryly laughing to yourself as you do.

"I did." He argues, he betrays himself once more, unable to bare the possibility of a misunderstanding. "I missed you."

"There you go again." You tut, shaking your head when the sturdy paper dents against the pressure of your thumbs. "You're lying."

"When did I lie?"

Your eyes don't meet his, nails fumbling with the red label of the bucket. There are multiple instances today, some significant and some not so much. You're reminded of the past, memories tracing over the irrelevant, insignificant present as you speak.

"Your stupid jacket. The lady at the store said-"

"She told you it was mine?"

You rip a piece of the label off, picking at the mascot. The air conditioner blows onto your shoulders, and the almost-sheer fabric of your button up shudders.

"I'm cold." You groan, hands warming up your forearms.

Satoru itches his eyes once more, picking up the scraps of paper that fly onto his lap.

"Then wear my jacket." He offers, polishing the lens of his glasses with the fibers of his shirt. "I don't need it."

Your eyes meet with the small pull of the fabric, giving you a bit of leeway to the skin underneath. It peeks at you first, baiting your vision. Your shoulders slump, mind clearly out of touch when the thought escapes you for the second time tonight.

"You've grown." When did he get a six-pack? Satoru was always scrawny. "It's unfair."

He scrubs at his glasses, lightly shaking his head to himself when another smear appears.

"You say something?" The music must have covered you up, the crevices of muscles along his stomach taunting.

Who is the liar?

"I said, I dunno where the jacket is." You are unsure now.

"Look for it then." The shirt snaps back on, and now it becomes obvious how tight the cloth truly is. You notice more cracks, more ripples running down his torso.

The radio carries on conversation, a symphony of guitar strums, snare beats, and vocals allowing for comfortable silence.

"Do it for me."

Satoru does one last pick at his eyelashes, catching a loose hair before it falls to the ground.

His obedience is unspoken, yet determined the very moment you decide to order him around. He has no choice, you have already dictated his will. There is nothing he can achieve out of an argument except for wasted time, so he places those troublesome glasses back on, fishing through the several bags. It isn't long before he reels in a fine fish, also known as his jacket.

"Give me your arm."

"Why?" You scoot back in your seat. He holds up the jacket by the collar, shaking it as if his goal was to entice you.

"Please."

"Okay." You're intrigued.

His other hand reels out another fish from the sea when the legs of your chair screech against the tiles. Satoru thinks it's a great catch he's made when the distance between the both of you narrows. A definite rare find.

You stick one arm out after the other, the oily bucket of chicken bones now discarded on the table. The label of a torn up Colonel Sanders sways in the air before landing on the floor.

"Turn around."

You twist in your chair, firmly and quickly put into place with the hold of his fingers.

"This good?" He drapes the rest of the fabric over you until it sits on your shoulders evenly, adjusting the collar around your neck. His breath tickles your neck.

"Yeah." You turn back around, catching a whiff of cologne. The forest is near, somewhere over here. "Thanks."

The velvet lining seeps through your thin shirt and reaches for your skin. You're held in it's warm embrace, back easing against the seat.

"Tired." Your eyelids lower, the abnormally large jacket bunching around your arms. He's all grown-up now, just like you have, but way taller, way bigger than you initially thought. He really owns his title, wears it like a suit. You don't have one.

Satoru tries to speak. You beat him to it, arms crossed in your rest.

"Everythin' hurts." Your fingers loosen up around your elbows, knees straightening out underneath the table. "My body, my mind, fuck - even my soul hurts."

He thinks to reply, mind scrambling for a solution. Satoru should fix you. He should reach out and grab your worries, hold them tightly and choke them all in the heart of his fist. What he should do is take responsibility, even if he has failed the test of time.

"Even then, I'm still talkin' like an idiot." The sentences spill out, meaningless chatter only to garner an ounce of pity. "I'm drunk, right?"

"Yeah." His voice completely ceases, already drowned by the bass of the restaurant speakers.

When would the solution occur to him? No, the wonder of, the fear of uncertainty should not exist. You were a unique problem, not impossible. A problem that only catered to him, a problem that only concerned him. No one else could come close, no one could ever involve themselves with this special problem.

No one could ever lock fingers with the intricacies of your body, your mind, fuck - even your soul. Naturally, Satoru should know everything, all the details, all the nooks and crannies of you.

"Yeah, I am." That is just another hollow chuckle down the drain, one he is yet to grow used to. "Alcohol-"

Your smear your palm down the length of your face, eyelids pulled down.

"Alcohol makes me crave food, but I..." You tip your head back. "... Ah, I don't know, but I really hate eating."

Stop that. Don't say that. Please.

"Nothing tastes as good as it looks anymore, Satoru." You toss out another soulless laugh, eyes completely shutting at the confession. "I'm getting old."

Stop. Don't tell him that.

The person he so remembers shatters right before his very eyes, glass shards dancing beneath his feet. The person he treasured in his memories, oh, that girl he can't get rid of no matter how much her resent grows as the days shrink and pass by. She always ate well, she slept fulfilled with her heart happy, stomach full. She always did.

You don't. Who are you? What was she?

"Who was it?" Satoru feels like his throat opens forcibly, voice coming out faint and weak.

You shove a finger into your chest, over and over until the motion slows and finally stills.

"Who-"

"Me." It lands, puncturing your chest. You sigh. "It's all because of me."

His fingers clench in his lap. You aren't her. What you are is the culprit.

"Yeah, I think that's it. It's me." Your chest draws in a short breath, brows tackling one another. Your words are mixing up terribly, pouring out lukewarm. It's frustrating to hear your tongue give up.

"I'm the problem." You open your eyes, blinded by the yellow ceiling lights. You blink. "I realized that when-"

"You should stop."

"Ah, should I?" You groggily turn over, recovering your vision to make out his figure. Satoru gathers up the mess you made, all the scraps and napkins dumped into the bucket. That too is soon tossed into the trash.

"Why?"

Each bag beside you escapes to his arms, scurrying from the floor and sneaking into his wrists.

"You'll regret it tomorrow." You feel a tug at your chair, drawing you away from the table.

"Ah."

Do it all for tomorrow, but never do it for today. This was what you were told.

The world seems to revolve around the future despite existing through the present. The days, the weeks, the months, the years - they all stretch into the ambiguous blanket of "tomorrow".

Put it off for tomorrow, but never do it today. This is what you followed.

"... Then you'll hate me even more tomorrow, right?" He whispers over his shoulder, back as familiar as it is wide. Your eyes blur into a lengthy blink.

You do everything for tomorrow. Today is already a part of your past. Your present is lost time, to forever be shunned away by your selfish, never-ending future.

"I..." You feel your words sharpen, suddenly vehement. "I'll hate you."

As if pure instinct, your arms sling around the comfort of his shoulders, letting out a short huff of air when your wings allow you to float. You're flying.

"I know." His arms bind with your legs, the hold tighter than, stronger than any of his courage. Was it ever possible for him to muster any of it? "Me too-"

"I hate you more than yesterday, and..." You take in a deep breath, the jingle of the door signifying your departure. "...even less than tomorrow, yeah. I think that's..."

You lose track of your thoughts, eyes sluggish as the crickets chirp and the stars shine. Osaka is peaceful, the moon wraps around you and holds you tightly.

"Me too." He releases the postponed beat of his heart, his hands re-catching your thighs.

You groan at the sudden disturbance, nose pressed against his neck. The smell of fried chicken is soon replaced with the night, dewy and coastal air grazing the hairs of your neck.

"Don't do it, Satoru." Your words stroke his neck, face nodding off in the very crook. "Don't take me home."

He halts.

"Do you hate it there?"

The exhaust flees, it runs off as your sore muscles unclench. The day slowly ends, the hours are sewn together, and before you know it, your future is set in stone. Tomorrow would be here.

"Y...yeah." Your eyelashes bind together, his resumed steps lulling, nurturing. "I hate it."

That wasn't her, not a single hint of it was. That was all you, every single bit of it. Satoru can identify it now - his special, unique problem, exclusive to only him.

When the night settles and the stars occupy the stretching sky is when he begins to reflect on the question he shrugged off for weeks.

The strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the modern age, who has come to Osaka with the illusion of a vacation has deceived himself. His own mind, his own body, his own soul is a traitor.

Gojo Satoru has a goal. He came here with a purpose.

Though light in his movement, each step continues to drag on when your breath calms and unwinds against him. The shore is finally at rest, the waves stuck in a mediocre slosh, and there is a clear divide with the sand. At last, the seagulls too can hide away, they can too rest after soaring through unruly paces. There once was unrest in that shore, the sand dampened with each trashing, merciless, and unwarranted wave.

In that chaos, in that state of unrest was when he realized this goal of his. The reason as to why he holds you so close, so tightly despite the long and hard years in-between. The reason as to why he abandons his God-given, divine right of protecting the weak, the helpless for seven nights and seven days.

It was to send her off with a fine farewell, and for Gojo Satoru, the strong, to mend you, the weak. It was for him to solve you, to fix you until the shores could regulate themselves.

"I'm sorry." This whisper, broken yet rooted in his resolve is only a fraction of his sincerity. It is only the beginning of it all. "I think I'm going to be selfish from now on."

That night, the first out of the eventful seven, Satoru vowed.

He lifted the veil.

...

see you next chapter!!!

25 notes · View notes