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gallickingun · 4 years

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break the glass {in case of emergency} || t.s.

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto needs help, so he hires a nanny. More specifically, he hires you.

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Shouto x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 21.2k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the definition of a labor of love. big thanks to @k-atsukidayo, @freckledoriya, and @lady-bakuhoe for keeping me sane. and super shoutout to my love @shoutogepi bc she’s been my hype lady! i hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations because wow has it been a wild ride ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Shouto’s feet are trudging through the proverbial thick of life.

His ankles twist the further he tries to advance, and with every step forward, another tragedy breaks the fragility of the glass box he now lives in. The etching begins at the center, spreading out into cracks like lightning, threatening to shatter what remains of the clear cage.

And yet, Shouto must put on the mask, he must pretend that everything is fine when in fact he really would rather crumble to the floor with his hands in his hair. There are nights when he presses his palms into his temples, wishing and praying that someone out there might be listening so they can help him to will away the painful throbbing between his eyes. He can’t whimper, can’t make a sound, because if he does, if he withdraws the curtain and allows the world to know how inundated he truly is, then it will all be for naught.

“Daddy?”

Shouto blinks harshly to bring himself out of the vortex of his trepid thoughts, “Hey, love, what are you doing awake?”

Her teetering body scrambles into the room, pawing at the bedsheets as a broken sob parts her lips and shakes her chest. Shouto leans down to tuck his hands under her armpits, jolting her upward so she’s pressed into his chest. Her small hands grip onto the skin of his pectorals, thin fingernails scraping at his flesh. Shouto winces, but cradles her around the back regardless, the warmth of her heated cheek on his collarbone alarming.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asks, soothing one of his hands through her hair while the other rests splayed against her back, dipping gently to try and ease her crying. She doesn’t answer, hiccupping cries making her whole body shake as she clutches onto him.

“Hey,” Shouto presses his lips to the crown of her head before coaxing her head backward. He tucks his thumb underneath her chin, “Talk to me.”

The little girl’s lower lip is wobbling, eyes doe-like and full of tears, thick white eyelashes dense with the little saltine droplets. She palms at Shouto’s face with one hand, seeming ancient when she whispers, “Why did they take mommy from me?”

And just like that, the glass box shatters.

Shouto feels the explosion, but maintains his composure regardless of the impact. Shards lodge into his throat and lungs, painful twinges jutting into his insides. His voice feels jagged when he speaks next, grating against his esophagus and tongue, “Sometimes the world just isn’t fair, love. I wish I had a better answer for you, but there’s not always a perfect explanation.”

Her bejeweled turquoise eyes behold him, thumbs against his mouth as she stares up at him. Glassy irises are blown wide by frightened pupils, “I miss her.”

She collapses back into him like a star shattering in the galaxy, explosive tears dripping down his chest as she tremors. The implosion of her life plays before him in the form of an empty half of the bed, a bare side of the bathroom, and a nightstand still left unembellished despite having been there for almost two years.

“I miss her too,” Shouto murmurs into the child’s silvery hair.

If he sheds a few silent tears of his own, she does not admonish him for it, instead laying quietly until her tears and shaking sobs have exhausted her tiny body. Her lips part and she begins to drool into the pocket of his collarbone, hands twitching against his chest.

A gentle melody vibrates Shouto’s lungs as he rolls himself to the side, carefully displacing her from his body to the empty half of the bed. The toddler grabs for him as soon as the warmth of his body disappears, and Shouto focuses all of his energy into regulating the warmth of his left side. He brushes his thumb over her cheek, pushing her silken hair from her mouth so it does not stick with her drool.

He chuckles, tucking her locks behind her ear, cupping her cheek with his warm palm, “Good night, Hana.”

The only acknowledgement he receives is a gentle snore that flares her nostrils and expands her chest, small body only looking tinier in the large expanse of the king-sized bed. Shouto lies there in wonder, his heated hand keeping in contact with her body until she halts her shivering.

How did I get so lucky? He thinks to himself, the threat of tears pressing intensely against the backs of his eyelids. He can’t close them, though, because he’s afraid he might miss a moment of his daughter’s sorrow.

Shouto leans forward to press a kiss to her furrowed brow, the familiar weight of his lips on her head giving her the comfort she needs to release the tension in her sleep. Her expression mellows, the crinkles in her forehead smoothing until she looks something akin to peaceful, ethereal.

The last thing Shouto sees before his mind succumbs to the lure of unconsciousness is her silvery hair glistening in the moonlight of the bedroom, her tiny palm wrapped around his index finger, clutching on like he were her lifeline.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I can handle this on my own.”

“This isn’t just another assignment. This is your daughter, Shouto.”

His nostrils flare, “Yeah, and?”

Fuyumi rolls her eyes, containing herself by taking a deep breath through the nose. Shouto’s eyes wander as Hana teeters around the kitchen with a few crayons and a plush rabbit.

“There’s no reason to keep yourself from admitting you need help, Shouto,” Fuyumi grits her teeth and attempts to appear somehow cheerful, even if just for Hana’s sake. She flexes her jaw, “This is an insanely large house, brother. You could use the extra hands.”

Shouto narrows his eyes, the scar over his left side appearing even more intimidating when his expression shifts, “You’re not moving in here, ‘Umi. I’ll figure something else out.”

His sister runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head as she turns her attention to the toddler bobbing her head to an invisible jukebox as she colors another page in her book. Fuyumi licks her lips, “Listen, will you at least call her? She’s great with kids, and she’s between jobs right now. It could at least turn into a short-term benefit for the both of you.”

After a moment of aggressive silence, Shouto nods. He decides, internally, that his agreement is purely out of the recognition that it will force his sister to let the topic rest.

“I’ll call her.”

“Thank you,” Fuyumi’s chest deflates, releasing a pent-up breath she had been holding in unexpectedly. She sifts her fingers through Hana’s hair, thumbing at her ear gingerly, “I know you hate that I loom over you like another mother, but I just want to make sure that you’re both taken care of.”

Shouto’s expression softens, eyes turning from jeweled beads to something more pliable. His chest tightens at her admission, the reality of their situation doing nothing to lighten the burden on his shoulders. He takes a step towards his sister, praying she can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, “I’ll be okay, ‘Umi. I promise.”

Fuyumi allows herself a moment to take in the sight of Shouto’s twenty-one month old child, watching as she scribbles her crayons onto the coloring book in front of her with as much precision as she can muster. A somber smile tugs on her lips and she sighs, closing her eyes as she readjusts her glasses, “I just worry about you, is all. Taking over a large agency is a lot of work, especially with the added pressure of being a good father.”

“I will be a good father,” Shouto is quick to refute her lofty accusations, the intensity of his voice causing Hana to turn her attention from her book to her father. He narrows his eyes at his sister, “I won’t turn out like dad.”

Holding her hands up in mock-surrender, Fuyumi takes a step back, “I know, Shouto. Trust me, I know.” Her eyes are wide and Shouto feels fear grip his spine like a cold shadow, curling up into him and suffocating his throat. He wants to gasp but he cannot show weakness, not now. Fuyumi inhales a short breath, “You’re the furthest thing from our father. Which is why I think you should seriously consider reaching out, getting another pair of hands on deck.”

Shouto considers her, tilting his head. The implications that his ability at caring for his daughter makes his chest constrict, heart aching in a way he’s never felt before. His eyes dart downward, catching on the silver hair of his child as she sits on the floor, grubby hands gripping at crayons while she smears color all over the pages of her book.

“I’ll call her,” he repeats his words from earlier. “I will.”

Fuyumi reaches out to take her brother into a hug, breathing her peaceful nature onto him like a ghost begging to infiltrate his body. Shouto takes a long drag, lips parted when he wraps his arms around his sister’s smaller frame.

As his sister is leaving, Hana’s eyes focus on the door. Todoroki can’t help himself wonder for a moment if she believes that someone else might come walking back across the threshold, if only she were to look at just the perfect moment. The sun shines on Fuyumi’s figure, forcing a silhouette onto the floorboards of the entryway. If he were to squint the right way, it’s possible he could see her outline there, darkness shaped by the light.

Shouto must bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mind still.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Later that evening, when Shouto has his daughter resting in the crook of his arm, an educational children’s program playing on the television for background noise, he pulls his phone from his pocket to sift through text messages and emails. There are dozens of alerts to sort through, but the one thing his fingers keep returning to is the sight of your contact information in a message forwarded to him by his sister.

If you are every as bit as wonderful and kind as Fuyumi says you are, then Shouto is frightened of what you are capable of, based on your resume and photograph alone.

Not only do you have a stunning personality – caring, gentle, organized – but you have a beautiful outward appearance as well. Shouto notices the curve of your lips, the structure of your jaw and cheeks, and the way your eyes lilt upward at the camera.

The one thing Shouto hates the most about himself, the very being engrained within him to emulate, is that he was brought up worrying about these different kinds of things – the anatomy of a potential candidate.

It’s the Todoroki within him, the lurking presence of his father threatening to stifle his breathing, to suffocate him until Enji is the only glowing ember left in his charred, desolate soul. Shouto sits in the dark, the looming reality that he may very well end up exactly like his father forcing him to press the little green button at the bottom of the screen.

You pick up on the second ring, “Hello?”

“H-Hi there,” Shouto’s voice sticks in his throat.

A gentle laugh from the other end of the line makes his heart stop beating within the confines of his chest, “What can I do for you?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Shouto has never been so worried about the interior design of his house before.

He realizes suddenly that there are no photographs on the walls, no pictures hanging to tell the sad tale of his life story. The recognition of this little detail only further throws him into a darkness he knows he won’t ever be able to fully crawl out of. Every day he must fight this beast, this unseen presence that sits on his shoulders, forcing him to carry the burden. He’s never wanted to tell his life story, not with the way it played out, especially not now.

Abusive father. Hospitalized mother. Deceased wife.

When the doorbell rings, he pulls himself from his stupor to step forward into the foyer. Shouto takes a deep breath and curls his toes into the rug to ground his body as he turns the doorknob. It’s as if the door stands for something much weightier, a distance currently built between you and him, something he can control.

But when the heavy door gives way to the sunshine outside, your body casting an elongated shadow on the hardwood, Shouto’s ankles lock and his fingers still against metal.

“Todoroki Shouto?”

The sound of your voice, completely unadulterated from the natural static of a phone, makes Shouto’s head spin. He nods, swallowing so hard his throat bobs, “Yes, please come in.”

You kick your shoes off as soon as you step across the threshold, tucking them to the side near the other pairs of dress shoes and sneakers accompanied by little ballerina slip-ons and tiny formal shoes. He notices the way your eyes linger on the pink ballerina slippers that aren’t really shoes at all, more like glorified socks, and he has to hold back a chuckle.

Shouto raises his hand in a greeting, kicking the door closed with his ankle as he turns to face you, “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I appreciate you interviewing me,” you answer him, reaching forward to meet his handshake. You’re grinning when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks round with your smile. “I know that your schedule is very hectic.”

Shouto can’t think about it too much or it makes his brain throb within his skull. He grits his teeth, “Yes, my assistant was able to push out a few other unimportant meetings for this. I do apologize, but my daughter is currently with my sister. I thought it may be best for us to meet first and then decide if it will be a good fit before we introduce her into the situation.”

“I can respect that.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your waist as you stand in front of him. The surprising warmth from his hand sits with you, palm tingling even as it’s tucked between your body. A nervous laugh parts your lips as your feet shuffle, “I wouldn’t want to get too attached to her if you didn’t like me.”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes darting to his toes, “Oh, it’s not you I would be afraid of being incompatible. Hana can be very picky.”

Your thumbs dig into your biceps, rolling your lips together as you consider your reply. A soft padding forward of your feet on the dense rug makes little sound, but still breaks Todoroki’s gaze from the floor.

“You’d be surprised,” your left eye dropping in a wink. “I have quite the effect on people. Especially those who stand three feet and shorter.”

He is shocked to find himself grinning at your jesting remark, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shuffles a step backward from you. You tilt your head, eyes washing over his tall frame, “I’ve been doing this a long time, Mr. Todoroki. Usually children are withdrawn from their caretakers because they fear we’re trying to replace someone more important in their lives.”

You are closer to him now as you stride across the tile. Todoroki feels his chest constrict when you speak, “I’m not here to be anything more than supplemental. You set the boundaries, Mr. Todoroki, and those are what I will abide by without a shadow of a doubt. I’m here to do as much or as little as you need of me.”

It takes him a moment to recuperate, faltering before he replies, “I appreciate that. I-I’ve never done this before. I wasn’t planning on it.”

Shouto notices the way you visibly shrink away from him, understanding the subliminal tones in his words. He holds a hand in the air, palm face-up, “No, that’s not, I just-”

A sigh parts his lips and he looks back down at his feet, but you’re careening forward to save the day before he can dig himself further into a hole he’s already drowning in. You chuckle, “I don’t think many people choose to have children only to set them into the hands of a nanny, Mr. Todoroki. You needed help, that much is clear, and I don’t blame you for reaching out. I think being able to push through your pride and do what is best for your child is not something you should be ashamed of.”

Oh yes, Todoroki thinks to himself with a smirk on his lips, hand outstretched towards you again, He’s going to like you just fine.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

You did not imagine your initial meeting with Todoroki Hana to go like this.

Shouto’s voice is mildly frantic on the other line, which is telling in it of itself. Even upon your first meeting, you knew that he was to be a mild-mannered, easy-going man. He does not seem to be a person who is easily upset by much, so the lilt in his voice is a clear indicator to his mood.

“It’s okay,” you try to remain calm in spite of his fear, praying that your clear head can help him to unwind. “I’m sure she’s fine, Mr. Todoroki. I’m already in the car, on the way to the daycare right now. I’ll go pick her up and call you as soon as I have my eyes on her.”

A breath is exhaled from the other end of the receiver, and you can imagine the way his chest deflates at your words. You smile to yourself, phone pressed to your ear as you drive down the highway, “It will only take me twenty minutes. Until then, try to keep yourself busy, okay?”

The two of you exchange pleasantries before you close your phone, slipping it back underneath your thigh before focusing on the road again. You were thankful that Shouto had already installed a car seat into back row, allowing you to go pick up Hana without having to do too much extra preparation.

Driving to the daycare facility takes eighteen minutes on one stretch of highway. You feel your palms sweat the entire way, recalling Todoroki’s words about Hana’s injuries she sustained on the playground not very long ago. The tremor in his voice sent a jolt down your spine, your bones rattling around in your body as you imagine the dozens of different cuts or gashes she might have on her body.

And then there’s the reality that this will be the first time you ever lay eyes on Todoroki Hana. It will be your reckoning day, the deciding moment of happenstance when she makes the choice of whether or not you are worthy of her acceptance.

You park and walk into the building, your eyes wavering over the entire intricate structure. It’s a formation of pillars and high roofing, accented with filigree of metal curved into beautiful shapes. The price point of this facility does not go over your head, given the marble pillars look genuine, smooth and rounded in all the right places. You run your fingertips over the cool stone as you walk to the thick, mahogany door. The doorknob is sparkling gold, as if someone polished it when they saw you park.

All the details wrapped into a pristine package ease your mind about the salary that Todoroki Shouto is paying you. Originally, you’d wanted to fight him on it, but you acquiesced into silence after taking note of his watch and the name brand of his suit jacket.

Your hand shoves at the front door, weighted and dense, and you step up to the front desk. Resting your forearms on the top of the divider, you smile down at her, “Hi, I’m here to pick up Todoroki Hana.”

It’s clear this woman has never seen you before by the way her eyes gawk over your appearance. You may not be dressed as pristinely as she might like, but you still look rather presentable, given the time restraints you were under to come pick up the young girl.

She tilts her head as if considering you like prey before grabbing up the phone on her desk, muttering a few words into the receiver. As she hangs up, she holds out a clipboard, “We’ll need a copy of your ID. Mr. Todoroki called ahead to let us know you’d be coming, but we’d just like confirmation. For Hana’s safety.”

It all makes sense, and is rather sound policy, but the curl of her lips when she says it forces a vat of acid into your stomach. You swallow your retort that is sitting on your tongue like a knife and gently take the board from her hand.

As you’re filling out the paperwork, the sound of little footsteps starts down the hallway. You tilt your head, pen stilled in your grip, awaiting what feels like your very own doomsday. This little almost two-year-old holds your fate in her tiny, grubby hands.

You stand and replace the clipboard onto the front desk, sliding your ID along with it. Turning your head, you await the arrival of your own two-foot-tall guillotine. You twist your hands together, knuckles wrung out white as you wait for Hana to approach the curve of the hallway and seal your fate. You know you should not be this anxious over a child who has just broken into real sneakers, but the rational part of you never wins out in these kinds of situations.

Todoroki Shouto is paying you something on the upside of expensive, offering you a generous starting bonus in addition to your typical pay so you could start working earlier than expected and still make your rent payments without worry. It would be a shame to lose that thick paycheck just because you could not win over a teetering toddler who probably babbles about princesses and the color purple most of the day.

“Hana, it looks like your-”

“Nanny,” you interject as you hear the voice echoing down the hall, attempting to avoid any confusion if possible. You brush your thighs free of any imaginary dust and crumbs so you can hide the shaking of your joints, “I work for Mr. Todoroki.”

When they finally round the corner, you stop breathing.

The little girl standing in front of you cannot be much over two feet tall, bright blue eyes shining as she drinks you in apprehensively. Her pupils shrink the closer she gets, bejeweled eyes swallowed by the inkiness. Her hands fidget at her sides while she stutter-steps towards you. The long locks of pale, silver hair reach midway down her back, the curled tips giving her an almost doll-like appearance with their perfection. Her full lips are drawn inward, tentative, much like her father.

And there, covering her right eye, a gauze bandage attempting to staunch and protect a wound.

You cannot help the way your eyes widen at the sight of her injured face, your hands ready to snag her up and race her to the nearest emergency room. Todoroki hadn’t told you the extent of her injuries, just that she had an accident on the playground, and someone needed to pick her up immediately.

“Hi Hana,” you squat down so you can appear to her at eye-level, an effort to put her at ease. “Your daddy heard you took a fall outside with your friends and he wanted me to come pick you up. Are you okay?”

She has obviously been crying, cheeks dark red and swollen, her visible eye puffy from tears. Your inner nature is telling you to reach out and comfort her, taking her by the hand and drawing her up into your arms to give her a gentle squeeze. But you know that there is a time and place and threshold for each form of affection, so you withdraw.

“How bad is it?” You turn your gaze upward, calves screaming as you shift your weight. You seek out the eyes of her teacher, trying to gauge your reaction based on her body language, “It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding too much now, and she’s rather calm. Was her eye directly injured?”

“No, it’s just around the orbital,” her teacher runs fingertips through Hana’s hair, “I don’t think she’ll need stitches, but she will definitely need this wound cleaned up by a professional. I know Mr. Todoroki has a nurse he usually calls.”

It’s as if these women are trying to suffocate you with their knowledge of Todoroki, almost like them knowing he has a nurse, or not knowing he’d hired you until today, would win them some sort of award or accolade. You try your best not to let your stomach turn at the sight of them, desperate and petty.

“Hana?”

She tilts her head up at you, another round of tears welling up in her eyelids. You wonder if it is from stress, pain, or a mixture of that and the uncomfortable feeling she can sense from the way you’re interacting with the daycare staff. She sniffles and wipes her face with the back of her forearm, careful of her injured eye, “Y-Yes ma’am?”

So Shouto has taught her manners.

You attempt to keep your composure at the sound of her tinny, trepid voice echoing out the words that are normally rare for even full-grown adults to use. In reaching out your hand, you notice she does not shrink away from you, not this time, “I think we ought to go have that nurse of your dad’s check out your eye, what do you think?”

There is silence for a moment, genuine concern evident in her sparkling irises. She blinks quickly, like she is trying to figure you out before she makes her decision in response to your question. You don’t want to clue her in to the fact that, at the end of the day, it’s not really her choice to make – that plight between staying here and going somewhere else has been completely left up to you.

“You know,” you’re whispering now, dramatically hiding your mouth behind the palm of your hand, pretending that that others standing around can’t hear you. “I think that I saw this cool ice cream shop on the way here. You think you could help me try a new flavor?”

This makes her eyes widen, pushing herself up on her tiptoes as she fails to contain her excitement at the suggestion of a sugary treat, “Wh-What flavor?”

You grin, warmth seeping into your chest as a giggle bubbles up in her throat, “I was thinking bubblegum, or maybe cotton candy?”

Hana’s nose scrunches at the suggestion, “No way!”

“Well,” you stand to your full height, hands on your hips as you pout, “what would you rather have then?”

She is full-on smiling now, cheeks drawn upward so her dimples can dip into her cheeks on either side, “I like mint w-with choco-chips in it!”

You hold your hand out again, praying that now, after divulging your favorite ice cream flavors, she won’t totally reject you. The last thing you want is for her to force your hand in making a decision to pick her up and take her out of the daycare.

Hana pushes herself up and down on her toes, biting her lip before bursting with a smile, “Y-You really mean it?! Ice cream?”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug, wriggling your fingers as the other women watch on in amazement as your connection to the child. “I think you deserve it after that nasty fall you took.”

Bouncing towards you, Hana bobs into the air by pushing upward on the balls of her feet. She reaches out and snags your hand into her grip of her own accord, before beginning to tug you to the exit. She is babbling on about all of the ice cream flavors she’s tried, and what they taste like, and the last time she had ice cream was oh so long ago…

“See you later, ladies,” you wave over your shoulder, unable to hide the satisfied smirk making your mouth crooked, “I guess we’re going to get ice cream.”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Hana knows how to buckle herself in, so she’s already clambering up into your car as soon as you have the door open. Her injury is completely forgotten as she bustles up into the seat, climbing in awkwardly before turning around to plop her backside into the curve of the cushions. Her fingers are frantic as she desperately tries to get the straps clicked together so you can be on your way to the nearest ice cream shop. You smile at her struggle, allowing her to settle with a pout before offering her your help.

“I-I can do it!” she insists, eyes misted. “I-I’m a big girl!”

“Oh, no doubt,” you shake your head in reassurance, pursing your lips as you hold your hands up in midair, palms facing her. “I’m just trying to help so we can get to our ice cream just a tad faster.”

Your reasoning seems to be sound, because Hana releases the offending buckle and puts her hands on either side of her car seat to give you enough room to maneuver and snap the contraption in place. Your hands make swift work of the buckles and straps, tightening them to the perfect spot on her chest and hips. She smiles up at you when you’re finished, expectant and excited.

It is strange, the intense desire to protect her that immediately washes over you at first sight. You have to stop yourself from rushing into allowing her between the cracks of your heart. You are frantic to seal them so you can let yourself down easy if this job ends up being as short-term as you’re worried of it becoming.

You pull away from her, face blank, and shut the door as Hana begins to fiddle with the remaining length of the straps around her body. Her fingers swirl around the black fabric and plastic, tugging and pulling, but not hard enough to adjust any of your hard work.

On your way to the parlor, you decide to call Shouto.

“Daddy!”

A relieved sigh sounds from the other end of the receiver, and you can’t help the warmth that blooms in your belly when you grin. Shouto coughs thickly, clearing his throat, “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay!” Hana twirls her fingers in midair, watching around like Todoroki may appear out of thin air like his voice echoing in the car. “We’re going to get ice cream!”

“Ice cream?” his voice sounds slightly judgmental, but you try to push it off and pretend it means nothing. You spare a glance over your shoulder, “Tell him what flavor you’re getting, Hana.”

You pull into the drive through window of the ice cream shop, listening as Hana babbles on about the different flavors you two talked about and whether she’ll get a cone or a cup. You put the car in park as the person in front of you orders, swiveling your hips so you can look her in the eye, “I was actually thinking about a milkshake. How does that sound?”

“Ooh,” her eyes grow wider, chubby little hands curling into fists in her lap. She’s practically buzzing at just the thought of it all, “That sounds like fun!”

You chuckle, hand on the gearshift, “Oh, I meant to ask, have you already scheduled the nurse to be at the house? I wasn’t sure if you’d rather it be someone personal to look after her, or if you’d want me to take her to a general hospital.”

“I’ll call Masuyo and have her meet you at the house.” Todoroki’s voice is muffled as he turns to speak with someone else in his office, hand over the receiver. You hear him cough, voice tense, “S-She’s okay, though. Right?”

“I think she’s a strong girl,” you make your voice confident, straightening your spine, “she’ll be fine once we get her cleaned up. Right, Hana?”

You spare one final look at the little girl in the backseat, all bright eyes and buzzing fingertips. She’s already shuddering off of pure energy, and you wonder if sugar was really the best route to go down for her comfort. Either way, she nods her head, enthusiastic about what’s to come next.

“Yes!” She leans forward in her seat, getting closer to his voice, “I can’t wait until you get home, daddy. We’ll play prince and princess, right?”

You can sense the hesitation on Todoroki’s end and your heart turns to granite in your chest. When he speaks, you feel the weight of it settle in your belly, throat tightening.

“I’m not sure, love. I’ll have to see. It’s very busy this afternoon.”

Hana allows her expression to fall for a mere moment. You honestly would not have caught the change in her demeanor if it weren’t for you studying her as Shouto uttered the words. Every bit of enthusiasm that was previously holding her cheeks high is drained. Her face pales and her lips turn downward in a frown, eyes dropped to her hands as she fiddles with her knuckles in her lap.

And yet, almost as soon as she falters, her smile returns, albeit not enough to light up her eyes as it did before. It’s like she is reconstructing a mask that she feels pressured to wear in order to keep her father satiated and undisturbed.

“Oh, that’s okay, daddy,” Hana’s voice is as cheerful as her little strong will can force it to be. She attempts to be dismissive as she waves her hands, despite Shouto unable to see her, “I played princess at school anyway.”

Your heart continues to crack as she says her final line, “I love you, Daddy.”

Shouto exhales, voice breathy when he repeats the sentiment, “I love you more.”

“I love you most.” Hana’s tone lilts then, a crack in her metaphorical armor at his affections despite his absence. She swipes at her face and you wonder if she was crying, because you certainly didn’t see any tears.

Your throat grows thick with emotion, making it difficult for you to tell him goodbye. You roll down your window and rattle off your order, trying to keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye to monitor Hana’s mood and expressions as the moments progress. You feel horrible for intruding on their very personal, private moment, and it only makes your heart wrench more when you see Hana’s glazed eyes unable to focus on one thing in particular. She’s docile, void of emotion as she stares out of the window, watching clouds pass as the world grows darker with the threat of a sunset on the horizon.

You settle the milkshakes into the front seat, finishing up at the drive through window before rolling forward into a vacant parking space. With your foot still on the break, you reach back to hand Hana the small milkshake cup with the straw already pushed through the opening on the lid, “There you go.”

She takes it from you gingerly, small palms wrapping around as much of the cup circumference as she possibly can. Her lips are pouted just enough that you wonder if she’ll take a sip at all. You busy yourself, pretending to clean up trash in the front seat and maneuver things around on the floorboards, waiting on her first drag from the ice cream cup.

But it never comes.

After five minutes of waiting, you press your hand to the passenger’s side headrest and look her in the eye – as much of her pupils that you can catch in spite of her hooded lids. Hana is still dazed, looking into her milkshake cup as if it might have the answers to all of her life’s confusing questions.

“Hana?” Your voice calls her from whatever lull she was in, eyes blinking slow as she connects back to this version of reality. A vague, “Yes?” is uttered from her lips, but she isn’t focused, not just yet. You brush your hand against the top of her knee, quick and gentle, and it does the trick. She blinks one final time before her pupils dilate back to their usual size, gaze settled clearly on your face.

“Did something upset you?” you ask, your hand wrung around the headrest again. “Or do you just not want your milkshake?”

“I dunno,” Hana admits quickly, eyes downturned once she realizes she’s let the emotion slip from her voice. It makes the edges of her words raw and ragged, “I guess I just don’ wan’ it anymore.”

You are persistent; your job is to make her happy and keep her safe, and right now with a milkshake melting in her lap, part of you feels like you’re failing.

“Was it what your dad said?” Your question is asked in a low tone, something you’re trying to use to convey that you are being patient and kind. You take a chance and rest your palm against the car seat armrest, close enough to make contact but not adjacent enough to infringe upon her personal space. You swallow thickly, taking a short breath, “About not being home to play?”

Hana is pinching the straw between her fingers, looking into the little opening as it closes with the squeeze of her fingers. You wonder if she does this often, with tangible objects. Does she ache to control something so much so that she becomes lost in the euphoria of it all?

She sighs, kicking her feet, “Daddy is just always working. It makes me sad sometimes.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, not really. If you had known her for longer, or met Todoroki some other way, you could likely refute her statement. However, there’s truth in what she’s saying, a vulnerability that you weren’t sure you would see from the child so soon.

When she speaks next, Hana reminds you of a full-grown woman, attempting to redirect the conversation from something personal to something vague, “What’id you get?”

Her voice sounds like an echo of her true self, nothing like the way her tone lilted when she first spoke with her father. There is a seemingly eerie mask she has perfected, something both audible and emotional. And it would appear she knows just how to slip it on and off when the time is right, despite her young age.

Then and there you choose to burden yourself with the purpose of breaking her out of her glass box of entrapment.

“I got cookie dough,” you say as you take an over-dramatic sip, crossing your eyes at the sensation of cool ice cream flowing down your throat, “What did you get?”

Her face scrunches inward, nose wrinkling at the bridge, “Y-You know what I got, don’ you? You ordered it for me!”

You make an exaggerated face of confusion, tilting your head backward and tapping your fingertip against your chin. “Hmm,” you nod, agreeing with her accusation, “I guess you’re right, huh?”

“You’re silly,” Hana giggles before going in for her first sip of her milkshake. Her eyes are narrowed downward at the cup, hands cradling it carefully as if it were the most important thing in the world and she might be in danger of spilling it at any moment. Her eyes are wide, doe-like in nature, as she comes up for air, “This is good!”

“Great,” you answer her, switching the gearshift back into drive so you can pull out of the parking lot and out onto the highway to head back to their house.

The remainder of the drive back to the Todoroki residence is spent in moderate silence, gentle music playing on the radio as Hana preoccupies herself with licking every last drop of her milkshake from the straw. She sucks the mint chocolate chip ice cream from her thumb and looks up at you when you park the car in the driveway, “We’re home?”

You unbuckle yourself from your seat and answer her, hopping down from the car to open her door. She’s already working at her buckles, undone the top half, but still struggling with the bottom. By the time you’ve gotten her undone from the chair, she trusts you enough to reach out her arms and ask for you to help her down to the ground so she does not have to clamber down and risk falling onto the concrete.

When the soles of her shoes hit the concrete, she’s reaching up for you, grabbing you around your fingertips to hold on as she walks. You squeeze her hand gently, fishing the keys out with one hand to unlock the door.

The nurse is already inside, set up on the couch. Hana runs straight to her, plopping herself unceremoniously down on the furniture, hand hovering over the patch as she talks with Masuyo about her ice cream experience from just moments ago.

You busy yourself with dinner, prepping meat and vegetables, as Masuyo starts to clean and treat Hana’s wound. It’s another thirty minutes before you start to sear meat on the stovetop when you hear the garage door rattle open unexpectedly. Todoroki shouldn’t be home until later this evening, he texted you after you’d been in line for ice cream to tell you as such.

And yet, when the door opens to reveal his familiar frame, you can’t help the way your jaw unhinges.

“You’re home early,” you mention, flipping the steak pieces in the pan to sear the other side. “Everything okay?”

Todoroki is stunned by how grossly domestic the sight of you in his kitchen is and he’s jarred back into his prior lifetime where he had the full family package. He blinks and takes a short breath, forcing himself away from the swirling blackhole of the past to smile at you, “Yes, well. I decided that my daughter’s health was more important than some paperwork. I had a few of the first-years handle it.”

That is how it starts. Your first day as the new nanny of the Todoroki household.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Are you sure you got the right color plates?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the cake?”

“Ordered it three weeks ago.”

“How about the-”

“Shouto.”

He turns to look you in the eyes, breath frantic, “What?”

You can’t help but laugh at the wide-eyed expression he wears, all of his emotions blatantly displayed on his face. You take a step toward him, reaching out to cup his elbow, “I’ve got it all handled, okay? Her birthday party isn’t for another week, Shouto. Are you ready for the zoo?”

Todoroki hesitates, gritting his teeth together so harshly that you can see the muscles in his jaw quiver. He turns his palm to press flat against your forearm, heterochromatic gaze seeking you out for some sort of comfort, “Did you need me to pack the bag?”

“No,” you chuckle, forcing yourself to remove your body from his grasp by walking back to the sink to finish up the load of dirty dishes you wanted to get into the wash before you left. You tilt your head to look across the bar at him, “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

Hana comes careening down the hallway, a doll in either hand, her pajamas still crooked on her body. She giggles, bouncing on the balls of her feet before launching herself forward to latch around Todoroki’s calf like an animal, “Daddy!”

Shouto bends at the waist to pluck her up, hands careful under her armpits when he tucks her into his side, “Yes, love, I’m going to the zoo. But it looks like you need a change of clothes.”

“I already laid some out on her dresser,” you pipe up from behind the sink, “but you’ll need to spray her down with sunscreen first, it’s not very cloudy outside today.”

As Shouto turns to walk Hana back to her room, you allow your gaze to linger a moment longer than the ordinary. Ever since you first took this job, you could note Todoroki’s beautifully carved body and stellar facial features. He is built perfectly for the type of Pro Hero that he is – thick muscles wrapped around dense bones, and yet still a relatively lean frame to hold it all into place. Shouto’s face is cut sharp at the jawline, cheekbones stark against his skin. You are sure to admire him whenever you can.

When you hear him and his daughter talking, sharing words and laughs, it only adds to the flame that burns in your belly at the thought of Todoroki Shouto.

There is no doubt in your mind that it is improper to feel the way you do about a client. They should be nothing more than a paycheck and a steppingstone, and yet somehow you have found a way to allow Shouto to wind his pristine claws into you. He’s got you by the heart and it has only been a few months.

You force your hands to work at the dishes, cleaning what remains so you can start the dishwasher. After you’re done, you make your way upstairs towards Hana’s room, where you hear various grunting noises.

A laugh threatens to part your lips and give away your spying secret when you notice Shouto frantically trying to pull the shirt you picked out over the top of Hana’s head. Her arms are stuck in the wrong spots and you can already tell that it’s somehow inside out, but none of that pushes you to step forward and take over.

It’s only when Hana spots you spying in the doorway that you’re coerced into treading into her bedroom. She pouts and Todoroki doesn’t look much happier. He chuckles, “I swear I’m better at this than I look.”

“Oh, I know you’re helpless,” you smirk across at him, squatting in front of Hana to help untangle her from the clothes and put her back in right side up. Her little hands grab for your face, squeezing your cheeks as she surges forward to kiss your nose, “Daddy is helpless, isn’t he?”

You are too busy fussing over Hana’s hair to notice the way that Todoroki drinks you in like he has been parched for years. He cannot stop himself from memorizing the color of your irises, the slope of your nose, the bow of your lips.

The reality that he could even be attracted to you is lost on him – he swore after his wife died that he would never find another woman to replace her. You have only been here a few short weeks and he’s already begun to question his earlier statement.

It’s just the way she is with Hana, he tries to convince himself. I am kidding myself into believing she’s here for us, not just because it’s a job.

And yet, when his gaze connects to yours, Hana babbling about lions and tigers as you slather her down with sunscreen, Todoroki swears that he feels something different.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The day of Hana’s party comes quicker than expected.

You’re frantically spinning around, making sure there is enough food and drink for everyone in addition to trying to keep an eye on the children as they play around on the various structures setup outside.

A group of moms gather at the bar, one of them urging the others to look at you with a sinister lilt in their gaze. You continue to serve everyone at the party, filling drinks, bringing new plates of food, and yet their eyes never waver from you.

When you are cleaning up some stray garbage in the kitchen, the blonde woman near the end of the bar perks up, “Excuse me, nanny, would you mind filling my glass?”

It is like the floodgates have opened, and now they are all asking you for favors. You swallow your pride and do as they say whether that’s food or drink or a new napkin or even cleaning up their garbage. They are all gossiping behind their hands, palms raised to their mouths as if that will do anything to staunch the flow of the conversation, or even make it more difficult for you to hear the way they speak of you.

Your pride takes each hit in stride, attempting to roll the insults off your shoulders while you tend to them kindly. It takes Shouto stepping into the kitchen for your face to falter.

You gaze across the room at him and your strong façade falls away, hands shaking by your sides as you look at the floor in shame. You swallow your self-importance and build your walls back to their full height before looking up at him once more.

Todoroki is fuming, to put it nicely.

His hands are curled into fists, knuckles white and cheeks hot at the sight of your unease. He takes a few strides forward, features softening as he reaches out to press his fingertips into the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His breath is warm, spilling down your spine like molten lava, pooling the heat in your belly and turning your insides to mush. The expanse of his palm splays against your back, the plane of his chest flush with your arm when he stands too close.

You take a short breath, unable to get enough oxygen with him crowding your space like this. It is like he’s thinning the air within a few feet of his body, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’m fine,” your voice is high and thick, nostrils flaring when you make eye contact with one of the women at the bar. She is smirking proudly, head tilted so she can look down her nose at you. You swallow the shards of emotion sticking in your throat and look up at Todoroki, confused at the fury held in his irises, darkening them both so they look almost the same color as his pupils.

He turns and you watch in slow motion as his jaw hinges open, anxiety gripping your throat tightly. Your body moves before your mind can catch up; you shift your feet, so your hips are in front of him, hands palming against his pectorals to bring his attention down to you.

You tug on the fabric of his shirt, breathlessly calling to him, “Shouto.”

Todoroki turns his eyes downward, jawline quivering just enough for you to see at this close of an angle. He is intoxicating, the combination of his cologne and his body heat sending your mind spinning. You lick your lips and his eyes track the motion, turning butterflies over in your belly, their gentle wings brushing the insides of your body delicately, enough to tickle.

“Shouto,” you mumble his name again. “S’okay, alright?”

The sound of barstools scraping the floor signifies the judgmental women taking their leave, and your chest deflates at the change in atmosphere. Your hands go slack against Shouto’s chest, head falling forward to rest against his collarbone.

When his hands brush your hips, you snap your eyes upward, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze. Shouto grinds his teeth together before speaking, “I’m sorry they were bossing you around. You’re not here to take care of them.”

“It’s okay, really,” you pat your hand on his chest as if solidifying your statement, smiling enough to sell it.

His thumb grazes the hem of your shirt, fingertip slipping beneath the fabric to brush against your skin. Your breath hitches and every instinct within you tells you to push yourself up on your toes and grab his shirt in your tight fists, but when you’re eye-to-eye with him, you wish you wouldn’t have listened.

You can feel his stuttering breath on the bow of your lip, and it makes your shoulders quiver. Your name is whispered between his teeth and suddenly he is too close, so close that you’re intoxicated, and every inhibition of yours has been forgotten like dust in the wind.

“Daddy!”

The sound of her voice breaks you apart, stumbling like teenagers caught underneath the bleachers. Todoroki turns to Hana, tending to her face with a napkin and listening to her sugar-driven babbling. You take the moment to slip past them and back to the outdoor area where everyone is gathered.

For the remainder of the night, you feel Todoroki’s eyes on you, following your movements as you maneuver throughout the guests, offering them refills and to take their garbage. He cannot help but feel the heat incinerating his body from all sides, not just his left. The sensation is strange, the ice on his right side usually taking over any and all feeling he might have.

It feels foreign, but not unpleasant. Todoroki’s neck prickles at the impending awareness that he might be in for a crude awakening soon.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The next few months are a breeze.

Until they are not.

Todoroki has begun to spend more time at work and less at home with each passing day. The threat of his job creeping over him like a looming dark shadow, slowly engulfing him inch by inch until he is surrounded entirely. He spends his days fighting crime, and nights doing paperwork.

You are slowly starting to spend more and more time at the Todoroki house – you are now expected to arrive around five in the morning, and sometimes you do not leave until nine in the evening. It is exhausting, given your drive back to your apartment is a half-hour on a good day with little traffic.

Somehow, you have been able to keep Hana satiated, even without her father around. There are fleeting moments where her cheery expression falters and she sheds a few tears, but you are there to wrap her up in your arms and let her cry until she has nothing left. And then, after she’s dried her face on your shirt, she looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes and begs you to play princess.

One night, when you are half asleep on the couch with Hana curled into your arms, you feel a palm press to your shoulder, “I’m home.”

You blink blearily, a short jolt of breath stinging your lungs. You swallow and look to the right of you where Todoroki is squatted beside you. He is smiling; you can tell, even in the darkness.

“Hey,” you whisper, careful to cradle Hana’s head as you sit up. “Sorry, it’s been an eventful day.”

Shouto shakes his head and helps you to your feet, palms finding any juncture of you that he can use to support your body. His hand is against your elbow when he speaks next, “No, I’m sorry. I should have been home hours ago. I know you were making dinner.”

“I make dinner every night,” a laugh parts your lips and you run your fingers through Hana’s hair to try and keep her asleep despite the noise. “So, it’s nothing new, Todoroki. Let me go put her down and I’ll head out.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but his jaw snaps shut before he can let out whatever secret he is harboring. You disregard it, walking upstairs to tuck Hana in for bed. She stirs but does not wake entirely and you are thankful. The day has already been tumultuous enough without having to sing her back to sleep or stay up any longer.

As you are walking down the steps, you’re surprised to find Shouto pacing in the hallway, his thumb pinching his chin and his brow furrowed harshly. He looks rather intensely conflicted, and there is a moment where you’re worried, he may decide to fire you. Could you have done something wrong with Hana? Did she not like you? Was he upset that you let her have chocolate before noon the other day?

“Shouto?” you call, padding forward, toes sifting through the carpet. “Is everything okay?”

Another yawn splits your lips and you cover it with your palm, apologizing through your teeth. He shakes his head and steps toward you with a palm outstretched, “Yes, everything is fine. I just have something I’d like to ask you.”

You tilt your head and it reminds him of a curious animal, sniffing him out for food in the form of information. Your hand rests on his bicep and it is dizzying to be this close to you, even after several months of working alongside you. His head still spins when you are too close.

“I was wondering if you might consider moving in.”

You blink dumbly, mouth parted so he can see the pad of your tongue and the tips of your canine teeth. Your fingertips graze against his arm and you feel like lightning is sparking at the cusp of your touch.

The reality is this is not far from normal – most full-time nannies do end up living with their families. It makes everything easier and cheaper. If you live there, he does not have to pay you for drive time, and your boarding costs can be directly deducted from your standard paycheck. This option is what makes the most sense, but you are not focused on sense right now.

All you can see is his bare torso.

You are imagining accidentally walking in on him after he’s taken a shower, or him stumbling in after his morning runs with his tiny running shorts and shirtless upper half. Your tongue goes dry at the thought of it all, but you force yourself to push words past your lips, so you won’t look like a dead fish.

“That’s a pretty permanent decision, Shouto.” Your words hold weight and he knows it, he’s thought this through a dozen different ways to Sunday. You swallow and when your hands brush over his skin, he swears sparks light beneath your fingertips; it makes his arm numb. “I don’t mind, but I just want to make sure that you’ve really thought this through.”

He nods, stepping closer so he’s almost flush with you now, “I feel awful having you drive so early and so late. Your hours would not change, your responsibilities wouldn’t change. You would have your own room and privacy, and I don’t expect to lessen your pay just because you live here. It’s just-”

“Shouto,” you’re laughing now, shaking your head as you look down at your toes, “I don’t expect everything to stay the same if I move in. I’m prepared, are you?”

Truly, he’s thought about that question far too much in the passing days when he sees you around the house or speaks with you on the phone during the day. The idea that you will be here every hour of every day is suffocating, but in a way that makes him want to drown. As time moves faster, Shouto realizes that you have become a second nature in his house. He is thinking of you during his office meetings and the late nights on patrol.

He cannot be honest with the true reason he is asking you to move in, because then he would have to face his emotions and he’s not ready for that yet. And yet, his body betrays his mind as he reaches forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, “I think I can handle it.”

Emotion swells like a blooming heat between the two of you, your bodies almost entirely pressed up against one another as your voices grow softer. You are not sure if it’s the sleep-muddled brain you’re working off of, but you swear that you see his eyes drop to your lips. There is some part of you that wants to fall into him, to let him take you and burn you and leave you for dead, but the rest of you is working off of sense and logic and you know that would never work.

“Well,” your voice shatters the fragile moment, “I guess I better get home and start packing.”

Shouto releases you and something shifts in his irises, but it is gone as soon as it appears, and you don’t have enough time to discern the emotion. You pluck up your bag and slip on your shoes, turning to wave at him over your shoulder as you step past the threshold and back to the garage.

As you start your car, you rest your forehead on the steering wheel before you pull out, and murmur to yourself in utter chagrin, “What have I just agreed to?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I’m telling you - Red Riot is going to give you a run for your money.”

“That blockhead?” Shouto chuckles, swirling his glass, “I doubt it.”

You tilt your head, “And what about Ground Zero? He’s got his own agency now, doesn’t he?”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “God, can we please leave Bakugou out of this conversation?”

Another swig of the rum and coke slides down your throat, burning in the best way. Your head feels hazy, but you don’t mind, taking advantage of Hana’s early bedtime for the first time in a few weeks. You push your mostly empty glass towards him, “Bartender?”

Todoroki smiles, tipping the bottle downward to refill your glass. You grab the soda off the countertop and fill it to the brim, swirling the mixture with your straw. Another gulp of the liquid has you asking, “You and the other big players all went to Yuuei together, right? Ground Zero, Deku, Red Riot?”

Shouto nods, “Yes, we did.”

“Wow, to have gone to Yuuei,” you whisper in wonder, eyes heavy as you look down into the dark liquid fizzing in your glass.

He leans forward on the counter, body close to you as he asks his obvious question, “You don’t have a quirk, do you?”

“No,” your answer is quick, curt. You swallow thickly, shards of shame sticking in your throat. “I was born without one. You’ve seen my shoes.”

You are referring to the wider shoes that those with no quirk have to wear thanks to the extra joint in their pinkie toes. You lift your foot up in the air for good measure, painted toenails catching the light just right as you wriggle your toes around dramatically. You sigh, “I didn’t fully know who you were when I took this job. It’s kind of embarrassing that I don’t have a quirk, and you’re some superhero saving people with ice and fire.”

Shouto holds out his left palm, face up, and ignites a small flame, “I hated this side of my body for so long. It comes with a burden I’m glad you do not have to bear.”

The weight in his voice entices your eyes upward, connecting with his gaze as the heat blossoms, sucking the oxygen out of the air. Shouto curls his fingers inward and cuts the flame short, a gentle wisp of smoke floating from his palm.

“What does it feel like?” you find yourself asking, the alcohol creating a dull buzz behind your eyes that latches onto all of your inhibitions and immediately tosses them away.

His breath hitches audibly, pupils dilating as he attempts to focus on something other than the way your lips bow when you speak. Shouto steps forward, hands gentle as he cups your cheeks, a bravery he did not know he could muster bolstering his movements. His fingertips tickle your skin and it’s difficult for you to keep your eyes open when he is holding you so tenderly.

Shouto closes his eyes in concentration, taking a deep breath before narrowing his concentration onto the pores of his hands. His palms are flush with your skin and you let your mind wander while he is working up his quirk.

How would his touch compare to different parts of your body?

Your eyes slip shut at the thought, biting your lip as your mind runs rampant. The heat curling in your belly reminds you of his quirk – burning and licking at your belly like a raging flame. You only wish you had his right side to cool you down from the inside out.

Slowly but surely, you feel the right side of your face grow warm while the left side has started to chill. Your eyes go wide, and you circle your fingers around his wrists, voice breathy when you speak, “Wow, Shouto, that’s amazing!”

Your voice goes quiet and it is like the world stops spinning when he opens his eyelids to look down at you. You feel frozen in your spot, but you know it isn’t his quirk affecting you. Your grip tightens but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyesight directed to your lips, zeroed in on the way that you gnaw at them when you’re nervous.

The tension is like a rubber band begging to snap. You feel the coil twirl around your spine, bunching you together and screaming at you to run away. There are a thousand different reasons why getting too close is dangerous, but your wanton body cannot be bothered to list them. Instead you are pushing yourself up in your seat, so your back is arched toward him, chest brushing his pectorals.

Shouto reminds you of something innocent when his mouth parts and irises glimmer beneath half-hooded lids. You feel distinctly profligate for envisaging his mouth on other parts of your body, the pink of his tongue peeking from behind pearly teeth doing little to quell your thoughts. You swallow thickly and shudder as his hand that produces cold shifts into your hair, rustling through the tresses at the nape of your neck.

Your hands are suddenly wrapped up in the fabric of his shirt, fisting the soft material, and you are pulling him towards you. Even so, it is Shouto who tilts your head upward, heels of his palms gently angling you by the cheeks.

The two of you take a breath before devouring one another whole.

His mouth tastes like whiskey, sharp and biting, but his tongue is in stark contrast to the flavor. He is gentle while still taking over your every sense. His tongue maps out the curves of your teeth and the pad of your tongue while his chilled palm keeps your skin from searing with blush.

The tenderness with which he holds onto you makes your heart rattle around within the cage you have built just for him. You knew this entire time that if he were to wriggle his way in, to touch your heart in just the right spot, you would crumble beneath his ministrations. This entire time you’ve been beholden to him, despite the utter denial you’ve been bathing in to hide the confession.

“Todoroki, I-”

Your voice is cut off by a blazing hand drifting beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers dipping against your spine, “I hate it when you call me that.”

Your eyes go wide but he’s enraptured you with another kiss square on the lips. Your words fall into the confines of his throat, never to be heard again as he swallows them into silence.

Hands are everywhere, so much so that you can’t tell where you begin and he ends.

Shouto nips your lip and you gasp, your hips canting forward of their own accord. Your mouth is gaping, begging for air, and he gives in to your silent request, drifting his lips downward to your jawline. He mutters a string of curse words as your hands finally make their way to his hair and shoulders, digging into him like he might float away.

He hums against your collarbone, teeth bared as he licks and nips at your skin. The alcohol in your bloodstream mixed with his essence in your veins only spins your mind into overdrive, dizzying you to the point that your eyes cross. You whine as he bites kisses into your skin, fingernails dug sharply into the skin of his back through his shirt. There will most likely be little crescent moon imprints when you release.

The trail of his kisses loops back up the column of your throat, teeth grazing your jaw as he works his way to your mouth again. You whine into his lips when his frozen fingers stroke your bare skin beneath your top, “Shouto, please-”

Todoroki’s confidence grows when he hears you moan his name into the air, begging him with only a few syllables. He disconnects his mouth from yours to look you in the eyes, “God, you’re so damn pretty, y’know?”

Your mouth hangs open and Todoroki must hold himself back from slipping his thumb between your parted, full lips. A shuddering breath passes between the two of you, time frozen as the moment sits still. It allows the both of you to agonize over one another, taking in each and every wanton feature as you beg quietly.

“So pretty,” he whispers before digging his hands into your backside and tugging you forward so you wrap yourself around him. His mouth is on you in a flash, all teeth and tongue pulling and prodding at you in a divine way you’re sure only he has mastered.

You are enraptured by him, fully captivated with his dual-ended quirk sending your body into a haze. Your mind is bewildered, thrown into a twirl of rum and Todoroki. If he were to give you a moment to catch your breath, you might be able to find it within your resolve to push him off you, to tell him how wrong this is. And yet, with his tongue tangled in your teeth, you can’t force the word no out of your throat.

Instead it is just his name.

Todoroki picks you up to deposit you on the countertop, thumbs digging into your hips to help you settle. His fingers make quick work of your top, slipping beneath them hem to graze over the swell of your breast on the underside. You whimper at the ghost of his touch, trying to angle your arms so you can tug at the band of his sweats.

When he realizes what you are fumbling with, he uses the bottoms of his feet to tug his pants down to his ankles. He steps out of them, but you can’t focus on anything other than the prominent bulge strained against his dark briefs. You have to swallow the drool accumulating in the center of your mouth, threatening to pool over the corners of your lips if you were to speak.

Before he tugs your shirt over your head, he looks into your eyes, sincerity cutting through the lust clouding his irises, “Last chance.”

He is giving you an out. One last clear path to purity.

You hesitate for a moment and his hands curl tighter around the hem of your top, restraining himself from ripping it away like an animal. His jaw is quivering as he waits on your response, nostrils flaring when you do not answer right away.

Whether it is the alcohol or the need talking, you are the conduit for the words spoken next, “Fuck me, Shouto. Now.”

Your shirt is yanked over your head unceremoniously, but you don’t care. Your eyes are wandering, begging for him to be nearly as naked as you. You don’t have to ask, because he’s already stepping away from you to remove the offensive piece of clothing, baring his body to you.

You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, especially upon moving into the Todoroki residence. He goes on shirtless jogs and sometimes does not wear anything on his torso for a while after he’s showered. There are days he has hardly anything remaining of his costume, after a particularly rough villain or training session.

And yet, this time it feels different.

He is baring himself for you. The intimacy of the moment does little to dull the ache in your mind, the strain of your heart in your ribs. You know that if he were to show you much more openness, you may have bruises beneath your skin from the way your heart threatens to beat at such a quick, tumultuous pace.

Shouto wastes little time in lurching forward to palm at your breasts, mouth too busy with your lips to pay attention to much else. You hitch your thigh between his hips, the curve of your leg brushing into his clothed cock. He grunts into the trap of your teeth, brow tugged with focus as he ruts his hips upward into you. You’re sure to put pressure back against him, the tip of his cock bulging on your thigh.

“Sho’,” you whimper when his mouth drifts from your lips to your neck. Your hands find his hair and his shoulder, eyelids fluttering halfway closed while he licks and nips at your thin, sensitive skin. Your throat burns, flesh aching as he starts to bite into you, rolling the skin between his teeth slowly, agonizing your very core.

A fresh wave of arousal coats the inside of your walls, and you know it is stained your panties, but you don’t have enough dignity to care. All that is on your mind is how he can take you on the countertop, and if you’ll be able to keep quiet enough not to wake the sleeping girl up the flight of stairs.

“Shit,” he’s cursing when your hand finds his bulge, “sweetheart, I-”

His breath is stuttered over your collarbone as you begin to palm him through his briefs. The nickname tumbling from his lips in a moan turns your stomach, effervescent champagne bubbles drifting up from your belly until they are suffocating your lungs. You gasp to relieve yourself of the pent-up anticipation as his left hand reaches the button of your shorts.

Shouto is careful as he unbuttons your pants, slipping the coarse fabric of your jeans down your thighs. As he squats down to help you out of them, all you can think of is what might happen if you were to grab him by the hair and force his mouth to your cunt.

Almost like he was reading your mind, he leans forward after he’s tossed your jeans to the other side of the kitchen floor and his mouth ghosts over your core. Your lower lip wobbles and you must bite your tongue to keep your mewling cries from tumbling out in excess. Todoroki kisses the top of your thigh, nose nudging over the edge of your lace underwear, his eyes closed so you cannot make out the expression settled in his ordinarily stoic irises.

“If you smell this good, I can only imagine how wonderful you taste,” Todoroki smirks against your skin, tilting his head so he can look up at you from his crouched position.

Your hips cant forward at the sentence, pussy already dripping just from the timbre of his deep voice. The vibrations of his word are like shockwaves straight to your core and you want to beg him to give you something, even a teasing lick over the center of your underwear.

Shouto kisses the little bow at the center of your panties, smiling as he snags the accent between the bite of his teeth and uses it to tug your underwear down your thighs. Your muscles tense, his ministrations slow and tantalizing. He chuckles and the sound shoots through your bones as if they were hollow like a feather, the warm honey of his laughter seeping slowly into your every pore and breaking down what remains of your resolve.

You have to cover your mouth with your hands when you yelp at the pad of his thumb brushing back the hood of your clit. His cool palm finds your thigh, just below the curve of your ass, and he stabilizes you with a firm grip, “Sit still, Princess.”

The authoritative tone of his voice turns your spine rigid, eyes facing the wall as he butterflies your pussy so he can see the silvery strands of slick built up between your layers of skin. He licks his lips and you feel the threatening heat of his tongue near your clit and you’re squirming. You are white knuckling the countertop, jaw under immense pressure as you clamp your teeth harshly.

He does not give you warning before delving his tongue between your folds, licking up your accumulated slick with one slow movement. His glittering grey iris tries to find your face, but the only thing he can make out is the line of your jaw and chin as your head is thrown back. Shouto chuckles before starting to explore the glutenous walls of your cunt with his tongue, his one hand still pressed into your thigh, fingers digging so hard that you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow morning.

Your body responds to him quickly, hips canting forward to buck against his mouth, begging for something more than just the quick slithering of his tongue in and out of you. In retaliation, Shouto presses his tongue flat, creating the illusion that it is thicker than before. You keen when he turns the pad of his thumb near your clit, close but not near enough.

“Sho’, please,” you pant, sweat beginning to bead up on your temples from the anticipation alone.

His cocky smirk is something you can sense when he speaks, but even further, you can feel it as he continues to lavish your pussy with his tongue. He huffs before standing to his feet, your slick mixed with his saliva giving his mouth a dangerous glint in the lowlight of the kitchen.

Shouto licks his lips as he steps closer to you again, bodies flush with one another. The hand that you know could burn you in an instant drifts down your side towards your pussy and you feel every muscle in your body clench at the thought of what kind of damage he could do to you if he tried.

Oh, and you’d let him.

You are about to beg him again, wanton moans vibrating your throat, but he intercepts you before you can lower your inhibitions any further. Shouto’s elongated middle finger slips just between your folds, using his saliva and your slick to lubricate his digit as he begins to pump up into you.

Todoroki Shouto is by no means a small man.

However, he is not so muscular that it looks like he is uncomfortable whenever he is walking. He is lean but built, which means that even though his hands are thick with muscle, they are not painful when pressed into your tight heat. Rather, they are snug and comfortable, his knuckle providing a pleasure you’ve not experienced before.

The tip of his finger brushes the spongy spot at the base of your core, and you swear you feel him in your spine. Shouto leans forward kiss you and you receive him quickly, desperate for some sort of tactile relief. He’s grinning into your lips, but you do not care so long as you find some reprieve from the coil beginning to twist within your stomach.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Todoroki whispers into your teeth as his tongue licks against your gums.

At his comment, you clench your cunt around his fingers, tightening your hold only to see how he will react. His hand stills for a moment, but then he is pushing another finger to accompany the first, splitting your cunt open despite the vice-like grip you have on his knuckle. He pumps until the base of his digits are finding the heat of your pussy, his fingerprints searing into your walls as you attempt to stay clamped around him.

Your legs begin to shake from the way you are holding yourself up on your toes, knees bent so you can be closer to his body. Todoroki feels the tremors in your thighs as his hand roams the dense muscle, whispering, “C’mere, love,” and then he’s picking you up gingerly.

Shouto hooks one of your legs around his waist at the knee, arching your back so your cunt is still butterflied open for him. Your other leg dangles from the countertop as he balances you on the edge.

The way his fingers work into you is nothing short of sinful, that white-hot flash of pleasure sinking into your eyelids slowly but surely. You begin to lose your peripheral vision as the impending ecstasy begins to settle in. The crest of the wave is close, his knuckles dragging salaciously against the innermost part of you.

Your jaw hangs open the closer you are to coming undone, panting breaths prying your lips apart. You feel utterly exposed in front of him like this, lewdly strewn against the counter that you were sipping rum and whiskey against not even a half hour ago. And yet, somehow, Shouto’s hand cradled against your shoulders is all you need to bring your self-consciousness down to a manageable level.

From this angle, you can reach down and pull Shouto’s briefs down so his cock can spring free. You’re palming at him as soon as you see the dark red of his cockhead. He stutter-steps forward when you pump him the first time, eyes close to bulging from their sockets at the sensation.

You twist his cock in your palm, running your thumb against the pearlescent bead of pre-come collected at the curve of his slit. Using what you can of the liquid, you drag your damp thumb down the length of his cock for slight lubrication. Shouto bucks into your hand when you bob your palm up and down to connect with the base of his pubic bone.

Now that you’re secure on the countertop, Shouto allows his free hand to wander around the curvatures of your body, mapping out the dips and contours of your frame. His hand is on your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, when your mouth drops open from a particularly pleasurable swipe of his fingers. Your cunt is dripping, and you’re honestly not sure if it even matters if you come, he should be able to slip right between your tight heat with ease.

“S’pretty,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek as his thumb brushes the bow of your bottom lip.

On instinct, your tongue laps towards the digit, silently begging for him to do more.

Shouto listens, dipping his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad of his finger into the thick muscle of your tongue. You lick and suck at him, rolling your mouth to match the pace of your hand as you work his hard cock towards release. Shouto fixes the rhythm of his fingers so every part of your bodies are going at the same speed.

The collective sensations of his hands and mouth are too much and you cry out, digging your free hand into his shoulder to attempt and ground yourself. You pant, looking up at him with bejeweled irises, tears sitting dormant on your lashes as a whine sits pretty on your lips.

“What is it?” he asks, borderline patronizing. “Are you gonna come on my fingers?”

Your lower lip trembles and you feel yourself slipping into some subservient headspace at the tone in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips to meet him as he slows his hand, “P-Please, Shouto, I-”

“I want you to come,” he murmurs into your ear, leaning forward so his breath is hot on your skin. The hand he has buried in your cunt begins to heat and the searing sensation sends your mind reeling. Shouto nudges his nose along your jawline, warmth creeping along the base of his palm, “C’mon, love, I want to see you come. Make a pretty little face for me, yeah?”

His words do little to quell the growing ache between your thighs, the pent-up need begging to be released. You clench around him again, not forgetting his cock between your hand. You continue to twist your wrist, flicking your fingers along the length of his dick, dragging with just enough pressure to make his eyes cross. Teasing the head, you drag the pad of your thumb over it, catching another swell of pre-come and trailing the liquid down the thick shaft.

You whimper his name, squeezing your eyes closed so harshly that the corners of your lids crinkle. Your sounds only grow louder when his mouth begins to suck at your nipple, massaging your breast in his chilled hand. The crystallization of ice draws your attention, a frozen cold so intense that it almost feels hot in its own unique way.

There is a stinging excitement at the duality of the temperatures that grow further apart the longer he activates his quirk. Your nipples pebble while your pussy floods from the heat, copious amounts of slick trickling down his fingers to pool in the creases of his palm. Shouto murmurs obscenities against your earlobe but you’re in such a realm of fevered phrenzy that you can’t make out he’s even speaking English.

“Sh-Shouto, I-I’m close,” you manage, feeling the way his cock throbs beneath your touch helping to bring you back to the cusp of reality. You dive deep again when his fingertips brush against your cervix, allowing his passion to force you beneath the surface.

His thumb is circling your clit as he murmurs, “C’mon, darling, I know you can do it. Come for me, yeah?”

It’s as if his words united with his caress are enough to shove you head-first into the pool of desire. You are whimpering, cunt fluttering around his fingers as your come drips down the crevices of his palm. Your release reaches his wrist, milky liquid tickling his skin.

“Atta girl,” he kisses your cheek, fingers stilling for a moment to allow you to collect yourself. You continue to ride out your high by bucking your hips over his knuckles, slippery fingers easily providing you the rest of the comfort you need to come down from your high.

“Your turn.”

You’re pushing your way off the countertop when the creaking of the stairs makes your heart still within your chest.

Shouto’s stare flickers from you to the staircase, jaw hung open as he analyzes the sound. When another step echoes in the hallway, he’s quick to yank his briefs and sweats back over his hips. He helps you into your shorts, the silvery strands of your release forgotten as he tugs the fabric up your hips.

You’ve just gotten your pants buttoned when Hana’s teetering figure creates a shadow on the kitchen floor.

“Daddy?” she whimpers, fists digging into her tear-filled eyes.

Shouto swipes his hands against his sweats before crouching in front of her. His palms find her sides quickly, thumbs grazing her rib cage in an attempt at comfort, “Hey, love,” the sound of the nickname makes something stir within your belly, “what’re you doing awake?”

Hana swallows a hiccup, “I-I had a bad dream.”

You step forward, pressing your hand to Shouto’s shoulder, offering a gentle nudge of comfort. Hana blinks up at you, jeweled irises focused on your face, “M-Momma?”

The title holds a weight you had not prepared to carry.

She’s all but forgotten Todoroki, pushing past him to barrel into your shin, wrapping her stubby arms around your knee. She wipes her face against the skin of your thigh, sniffling louder as a fresh wave of tears takes over her body. Her shoulders shudder and you don’t have time to wonder whether she’s cognizant enough to realize that she’s just called you her mother.

You scoop her up in your arms, holding her gingerly by the back and head, and she wraps her legs around your midsection to anchor her little body to your torso like a frightened animal. Hana buries her head into your neck, tears sticking to your skin and creating an unbearable heat.

“You’re not leaving, right?” Hana whimpers, “I-I had a dream that you left.”

In an effort to comfort her, you run your fingers through her hair, gently separating the strands so your nails can scratch her scalp. You kiss her temple, “Of course not, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

She retracts from your neck and a rush of cool air washes over you. Her irises are swallowed by her pupils, thick droplets of tears wetting her cheeks. You smile, forcing yourself to forget the way you were just about to jump her father’s bones, and brush your nose against hers in an eskimo kiss.

“It was just a dream, babe,” you comfort her, making sure you are looking at her directly when you say it so she feels much more solid in the reality that you are here to stay. A soothing hand reaches forward to couple with yours, thumb tracing the bump of her shoulder.

Todoroki kisses the back of her head, “Hana, there’s no need to worry, love.”

“I already lost one mommy,” Hana sounds ancient when she speaks, voice far away and intelligent beyond her young years, “I don’t wanna lose another one.”

Your voice is lodged in your throat now, tears of your own pressing threateningly against the back of your eyes. You try to swallow but the shards of your heart are blocking your windpipe, cutting off your oxygen. Todoroki slips his hands beneath Hana’s armpits, separating her from you so he can cradle her body against his chest, “You’re not losing anyone, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You take this as your cue to leave, grabbing your things as Todoroki takes Hana back up the stairs to her bedroom.

A sense akin to despair settles in your chest, restraining your heart in such a way that makes it difficult to breathe. The world seems to settle atop your shoulders and in the next moments you have turned into Atlas, forced to hold the earth up by your careless grip. Tears settle in your lids as you pull away from the Todoroki residence.

Something tells you that things will never be the same.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

As much as you hate it, that little voice eating away at the back of your mind was right.

The looming reality that Todoroki is avoiding you does little to satisfy the curiosity settled in your bones, affecting you down to the marrow.

Ever since that night, he hardly looks you in the eye.

In fact, he’s barely even around to see you at all.

Todoroki leaves for work before you can emerge from the bathroom with Hana in tow, fresh from a bubble bath and ready for breakfast. He slips back through the doors late at night, normally after eight, so Hana is either passed out with you on the couch or curled up beneath her covers in her bedroom. There is not another time where he touches you gingerly on the shoulder and guides you back to bed, not anymore.

You have wondered many times if you should approach him, beg him for some sort of explanation. Not only is his distance affecting you, but it’s turning Hana into a child you hardly recognize. She is still cheerful a majority of the time, begging you to play princesses and watch Bubble Guppies. But there are times when she turns angry, ripping the heads off her dolls and trying to sabotage Todoroki’s work clothes by drawing on his shoes or dropping her glass of morning milk on his suit jacket.

You start to cook his meals the day before, packaging them up in a Tupperware container that’s always gone when you check at breakfast the next morning. You are not a blind woman, and you normally choose to indulge his silly game of hide and seek instead of confronting him about what happened that night.

However, tonight, you’ve had enough.

Even though he’s decided to spend the weekend at home for the first time in a few weeks, you’ve never felt more on edge. Hana is extremely irritable, nightmares plaguing her mind during the time she’s supposed to be sleeping, and it would seem there is nothing you can ever do to satiate her throughout the day.

Playing princess is boring, coloring is stressful, blowing bubbles is stupid.

You are reaching the end of your rope and Shouto’s evasive presence does little to satiate your temperamental moods. You clutch at the cusp of sanity, praying that it will not leave you just yet; the only thing holding your tongue back from lashing out is the sliver of discretion that you’ve managed to sustain in spite of the day’s events.

“Hey, uh-” Todoroki’s voice is strained as he stands in the archway of the kitchen, “Would you mind making us a couple of sandwiches? I think Hana is getting hungry.”

The warmth from the dishwater gives you something other than his irises to focus on, your eyesight directed downward, “Sure. What would you like?”

“Let’s just do peanut butter and jelly,” Shouto shrugs nonchalantly. “Grape, if we have it.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of a specific flavor. You are certain that if you were to look into the refrigerator that you would not find grape jelly, but it’s obvious that Shouto is otherwise unknowing.

“Grape?” you echo, pulling your hands from the dishwater to wipe them on your hand towel. “You think that’s a smart choice?”

Shouto scoffs and it stings so much that you turn your head away from him, eyes now focused on the floor beneath your feet, “Yes, I’m sure. Why does it matter anyway?”

“Oh, no reason.” You pluck a jar of strawberry jelly from the refrigerator and begin to prepare the countertop for your sandwich making.

He takes a step forward to protest, but you’re waving the knife in his direction before he can stride across the tile, “You listen to me, Todoroki. And you listen good.”

Shouto pauses, throat bobbing as his line of sight zeroes in on your lips. His eyes widen, pupils swallowing his irises in fear. The knife wavering in your grasp holds much more weight than any other butter knife he’s come into contact with.

“We don’t have any grape jelly because your daughter is allergic to grapes.”

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the butter knife in your hand, “And if you were ever here you might notice a thing or two, such as an allergy to something that could, I dunno, kill her?!”

The sound of your voice raising an octave or two reverberates off of the walls and thrums at Shouto’s heartstrings. He swallows thickly, but you’re not done tearing into him just yet.

“This little charade you’ve got going on has got to end.” Your voice is desperate, unhinged, and you feel the honesty scrape against the front of your throat, “Your daughter is turning into someone you can barely recognize, and you’re not far behind her.”

Silence envelopes the room, and the only thing you’re able to hear is your heart beating frantically in your own ears. As your pulse thuds rapidly, rushing like a river of thick emotion throughout your body, you feel your palms begin to sweat. The longer you keep quiet, the louder the sound grows.

Finally, after giving him a few minutes to respond, you press the tops of your fists into your hips, glaring down your nose at him, “If you want me gone, all you had to do was ask. I thought we respected one another enough for that.”

You slap together two sandwiches quickly, tossing the plates onto the counter for him to pick up on his own before you turn and walk from the room. You’re unable to look at him any longer, not sure if it’s the loitering reality that you may have to move on from this chapter of your life or the loss of a generous paycheck and living situation that wraps your heart like the talons of a bird, squeezing until you can’t breathe.

The tumultuous roll of emotions scrapes away at your chest, and you’re surprised that there isn’t blood gushing from your ribs. You lean back against your closed door, head tilted backward to stave off the tears, saltine droplets coating your lashes as they sit in your ducts, pending the gentle sway of your neck to drip down your cheeks.

You aren’t sure how long you stay this way, crumbled against your door with the heat of disappointment building smoke in your lungs. It’s difficult to breathe, a dizziness taking over your mind that you’ve never felt quite so acutely before. You cradle your head in your hands, massaging your temples with your thumbs to try and mitigate the oncoming migraine.

A knock sounds at your door and you jump, hand pressed over your frantic heart, “Y-Yes?”

“Can-Can I come in?”

Shouto.

The sound of his voice does little to staunch the metaphorical puncture wound in your chest. You flex your hands before standing to your feet and opening the door, allowing him to step over the threshold into your room.

“Listen, I think there’s just-”

“No,” you interrupt, a short breath filling your lungs, “I’m going first.”

Todoroki’s eyes dilate, his feet stuttering backward as he takes in your assertive sentence. He grits his teeth, jaw quivering under the stress, but keeps his lips sealed in spite of desperately wanting to speak out.

“If you don’t want me here, you could have just said so.” You wring your hands together, knuckles knocking against one another as you twist your fingers. You close your eyelids and inhale a deep breath, “What happened, u-us kissing, wasn’t professional, and I apologize. But what you’re doing to Hana?”

You flare your nostrils as your hands turn to fists at your side. Todoroki watches you closely, eyes never wavering from your frame as he takes in your quivering, quiet fury. Your jaw muscles tense and you force your eyes to meet his, despite the glossiness settled in them, “You’re never here, Shouto. You missed her ballet recital last week, then you forgot she was allergic to grapes, and now you’re not seeing what’s directly in front of you!”

The more you speak, the louder you become. You can feel your cheeks heating, the tears building up in your eyelids with every syllable. Your fists clench at your sides, and your fingernails dig irately into your palms, so harshly that you swear you might draw blood. Each word draws out an anger in you that you didn’t realize you were harboring, like a fugitive sitting in the cage of your chest, tugging on the bars of your heart as they beg to be broken free.

“Hana deserves better than this, and you know it, Todoroki. So if you don’t get your head out of your ass,” your lower lip wobbles and you reach forward to poke him directly in the chest, index finger dug into the space between his pectorals, “you’re going to lose your daughter.”

You’re shaking your head and your fist as the next sentence comes tumbling from your lips, heart strings fully wound as you speak, “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is, but if it’s me, then I’ll leave.”

Shouto’s brow furrows as he looks down his nose at you, “Are you finished?”

The deadpan of his voice stirs something in your belly, something like an acrid fire that plumes in your chest, the smoke of it all curling around your throat and begging to be spewed like acid from your tongue. Your teeth grind into each other, a creaking sound echoing in your own ears. The way your heart twists in your chest makes it difficult to breathe, but you manage.

“Fuck you, Todoroki.”

You go to turn away from him, your hand falling from his chest, when he snatches you by the wrist, repeating his question, “Are you finished?”

A small remaining sliver of your patience sits heavy on your chest, forcing you to nod your head. Regardless of how you feel about him, Todoroki Shouto is an important man, and you need to leave here a dignified woman. If you make a scene, if you flash your fists and bare your teeth, it’s possible you won’t have another job ever again.

“I don’t want you to quit,” his voice is breathless, an octave higher than normal; he almost sounds sick, “but there is a problem.”

The anticipation of what he might say next brings back that acidic wash in your belly, throat squeezed shut by the clamped hands of insecurity and doubt. Shouto takes a careful step forward, mindful of your personal space as he does so. His fingers never leave your wrist, circled around your arm even as it’s pulled away from his body.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

To say that the world stopped spinning was an understatement.

You feel the whole planet turn on its axis, your body undergoing vertigo as the metaphorical rug is yanked out from beneath your feet. Your stomach flips, the acid molting into lava, hot and sticky as it licks up against your skin, pooling just below your navel. His grip is too restrictive, and you can tell your body is beginning to shift into panic mode.

“You’re right,” he barges in on your internal monologue of self-hatred, eyes boring into your soul, “I’ve been a shitty father, which is painful for me to admit. But it’s the truth.”

The conviction in his voice is solid, and you know that he is being authentic. Todoroki has a clouded past when it comes to his father, Enji. You are aware of the influence his estranged parents have on his relationship with his child, which is one of the reasons his distance has troubled you. Every time he has had enough vulnerability to allow you to peek into the glass panes of his soul, he’s shown you the scars that Endeavor has left on him.

Todoroki uses his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb under your chin to pull your attention back to him, “I tried to distance myself from you to get a better grasp on the way I was feeling.”

His palm grazes down the column of your throat, his eyes careful not to stray to close to your lips or else he’ll get distracted. Your mouth bobs open but you have nothing to say, and the bewildered expression on your face makes him laugh. The sound of his baritone chuckle does little to quell the storm raging beneath your skin, lighting striking with every single touch of his fingers and thunder booming in your chest at the sound of his voice.

“For the longest time, I believed I would never love anyone again after my wife passed away.” The feel of his knuckles slipping between yours, palm searing into you despite it being his right side. At the mention of his wife, your whole being begins to shudder, the weight of expectations and self-doubt pressing into your chest like a mass you cannot remove.

Todoroki swallows the lump in his throat, neck bobbing, “I was content with it just being Hana and I for the rest of our lives, us against the world, until you came along. You fit so perfectly into our family, sliding in seamlessly as if you’d been here the whole time. You managed to win Hana over in a day and now she can’t stop talking about you. And then, when Hana called you mom, it threw me.”

Shouto’s eyes are intense as they stare into you, narrowed and attentive. The odd combination of one blue, one grey, is hard to grasp, unsure of where you should look specifically. His fingers against your neck card through your hair, keeping you anchored to him and this world.

“It was easier for me to dive into work because I knew I’d have you here to pick up the pieces,” Shouto admits, his gaze finally breaking away from your face to narrow focus to his sock-clad feet. “I was so weak for you that I couldn’t bear it. And then you and Hana both suffered for my cowardice.”

A wave of destiny washes over you, looming like a shadow, begging you to make a decision.

“Todoroki, this is-”

“I told you,” his thumb grazes your cheekbone, “not to call me that.”

Your jaw hangs open and tears cloud your vision, and you want to smile no matter how hard your body fights against you. Your lower lip quivers and you shake your head, saltine droplets lingering on your cheeks, “I-I can’t, Shouto. I’m not right for you and Hana, I’m not-oh.”

His mouth slots against yours, angled perfectly to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. Shouto’s hands are on your face, holding you in place so you can’t run from him, despite how every cell under your skin is screaming to bolt from your place.

As he parts from you, you’re left in a daze of euphoria, eyes half-lidded, mouth still pursed as you chase after him, pleading for more.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip before retreating to trace your jawline.

And you know that you can’t; your body has already betrayed your words with the simple action of a kiss. Your hands follow suit, wrapped around the fabric of his shirt to keep him close, frightened he might leave you all over again.

Shouto’s hands drift down your abdomen, slow against your rib cage as if he were counting each bone to make sure they were all there, safe and sound. He kisses your forehead and then your nose, mouth hovering over the bow of your lips, eyes begging you even though his voice is caught in his lungs.

You say a stupid thing then, just something meant to break up the quiet, but with the floaty tone of your voice it breeds for much more wicked thoughts.

“Your lips are really warm.”

Shouto laughs before devouring you at the seam of your mouth, leaning forward to scoop you up in his arms, hands dug in at your thighs. You squeal against his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, your fingers dipping into the muscle of his shoulders for an anchor.

He’s got you back against the bed before you can breathe again, leaning back on his thighs so he can pull his shirt over his head with ease. Your palms are like magnets to his abdomen, fingerprints finding each curve and dip of his muscle, praying you can map it out so you might memorize it for the times when he’s not able to be this close.

As his fingertips graze beneath the hem of your shirt, your eyes go wide, stuttering breath accompanied by panicked words, “H-Hana? Is she-”

Shouto chuckles, “She’s laid down for her nap. We have about two hours.”

The devilish glint in his eyes does little to quell the rampant thoughts running in your mind. You suddenly want to feel his hands and mouth everywhere on your body, insatiable in your lust for his touch.

“Sh-Shouto, please,” you’re panting and he hasn’t even undressed you yet, “need you.”

A devout confession such as that one, something so primal in its nature, shifts his demeanor from playful to sinful. Now his fingertips are dancing beneath your shirt, palming over your skin like he might find a hidden treasure in your bones.

He shakes his head, nose grazing your cheek as he starts towards your collarbone, “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“Need you.”

You are quick in your answer, eyes screwed shut at the tantalizing ministrations of his fingers on your flesh. He is teasing you, just close enough to your breast that it hitches your breathing, but not too close to where you can feel pleasure. A hot wash of arousal rolls into your body, slick beginning to gather between your thighs.

“More specific,” the words are muttered around the skin of your chest, one of his hands tugging on your collar to bare more of your body to him.

You whine, bucking your hips upward, knowing exactly the shape his cock will be in beneath the underwear that has him caged from you. You reach forward and tug at the waistline of his briefs, “Please, Shouto, I want to feel you.”

At the mention of feel, he takes you by surprise as he slips two fingers between your folds, curling into you quickly. You muffle your whine into the pillow, turning your face so your cheek is smushed against the downy cushion. Shouto’s palm that isn’t occupied with your tight heat tugs your shirt up over the tops of your breasts, baring your chest to the cool air of the bedroom.

“You are feeling me, sweetheart,” he teasingly licks over your nipple, thankful for the lack of a bra separating you from his wanton tongue.

Another moan drags salaciously from your lips, vibrating your throat and making his cock twitch, “Sho’, wan’ your cock. Please.”

You’re able to drag his pants and briefs down at once, his cock springing free from the restricting fabric. When it bobs against his abdomen, enflamed red cockhead leaking pre-come, you feel saliva build up in the back of your throat. You start to pump him as best you can, watching as his weighty balls swing under your touch.

Everything about him is enticing, from his dual-toned hair to his heterochromatic eyes to his chiseled body. You’d use your tongue on every part of him if he’d let you, but right now you’re focused on only one thing.

Once Shouto has coaxed enough of your arousal to coat his hand, he curls his fingers into you one last time, collecting the silvery fluid on his fingers, and then stands to step out of his clothes. You keen at the loss of contact, eyes wide open so you don’t miss a second.

“C’mon, baby, take your clothes off for me.”

At his command, you’re stripping down until you’re bare in front of him, clothes in a pool of fabric on the floor right next to his. Even the simple intimacy of his clothing overlapped with yours does things to your heart, a pinpricking sensation making your skin heat.

“Hi,” he whispers, fingers framing your face as you get lost in his touch. His voice is gentle, and his touch is probing in the best of ways, a genuine smile tugging his lips upward as you echo the word back to him.

You can feel your arousal tumbling within the confines of your body, begging to be put to use as you feel his cock against your thigh. Todoroki guides you back into the mattress, shoulders pressing into the cool sheets, your body given some sort of contrast to the molten heat circulating under your skin. Your blushed skin draws Shouto’s attention, eyes dragging over each inch of your body, mesmerized by your beauty.

Todoroki shakes his head, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

And at the end of his sentence, acting like punctuation, his cock slides between your heat.

Your eyelids flutter shut and your hands are on him in an instant, nails dug into his flesh to try and dispel some of the energy already built up within your fragile body. Shouto feels lightning spark up into his spine, the trails of it striking his hidden heart, licking at the edges of the glass box keeping him imprisoned from the world.

As your cunt clenches around him and your mouth utters his name like a prayer, Shouto can tell that his chest is constricting, tightening around his heart in an attempt to break himself free from the confines of his past.

“Sho’,” you’re mewling for him now as the veins of his cock drag salaciously against your tight, glutenous walls. Silvery slick coats his dick and he moans as your pussy clamps again.

He begins to build up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb brushing over your clit slowly, the very beginning of a pleasurable end building up within your belly. His mouth is attached to anything on you he can find – breast, collarbone, jaw, throat, cheek. Teeth and tongue lash out at you, parting his mouth so his heated breath can wash over your body.

Shouto focuses as best he can on forcing heat down the length of his arm, pinpointing the warmest point onto the tip of his thumb. You preen, eyes bulging out of your sockets well enough that he can translate your pleasure. On the opposing hand, the one currently preoccupied with your nipple, begins to freeze. Gooseflesh trembles on his arm but he does not mind, not when he gets to hear your panting whines of his name mixed with the begging sounds of please, please, please.

“Such a good girl,” Shouto murmurs into the thin skin of your throat, tongue delving from between his lips to lavish your jugular. “So pretty, laid out just for me.”

You nod your head as best you can, eyes wide as you drink in his praise. Your mouth bobs open but you can’t form words, not anything intelligent anyway. Shouto reaches his icy thumb towards your lips, brushing his cool touch over the heated skin, steam wafting between the two of you.

“Have you been thinking about this as long as I have?” he asks rhetorically, not expecting you to answer based on the fucked out look in your eyes, the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as his body makes quick work of you. Shouto grunts, “I’ve wanted to take you against every damn surface in this house for months.”

His left hand peels from your clit, running up over the curve of your thigh to press beneath your knee, pushing your leg upward so he can thrust into you from a better angle. Your hands are stuck on the sheets now, his body just out of reach thanks to the twisting of your hips. Shouto slams into you, balls slapping your ass as he ruts forward.

You feel his cock harden even further from within the confines of your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongy corner of your insides. After another deep thrust he’s bottomed out within you, hips absolutely flush with your thighs as he presses into you.

Shouto leans forward, not daring to pull himself away from you just yet, enjoying the way you envelope him fully, “You think you can come for me, love? I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Y-Yes, Shouto, I-I’m getting there, almost,” you promise him, eyes fucked out to the point you can barely make sense of his frame loitering above you. Your lower lip wobbles as you pout, “A-Are you gonna-fuck-want you to come in me.”

It’s a simple sentence, but the weight of it makes Todoroki’s heart stop. He knows you’re on preventatives, he’s had to stay home with Hana to cover during the day for your doctor’s visits. But something stirs at the base of his cock, weighing in the thick of his body, and for some reason he wishes you were his for the taking in every sense of the word.

As you whimper beneath him, his eyes trail over your body, landing on your belly. His fiery touch grazes the swell of your stomach where he knows his cock is pressed deep within you. His balls throb at the thought of coating every inch of you in his spend, you begging for more as it leaks out of you and onto the sheets; him drawing you into another round just to make sure that you’re stuffed full.

Suddenly, a fracture within his chest allows him to breathe deeper. As you buck your hips into him, begging him for more, telling him how good he’s making you feel, Shouto recognizes the fragile box surrounding his heart, guarding it from the world, has begun to shatter.

“Shouto, please,” you are begging him now, glassy eyes and pitched tone designed just for him, “Need to feel you, everywhere.”

Your plea is the final rock thrown at the glass box, cracking it in every direction. Shards of emotion lodge in his throat, tearing into him so he cannot breathe. As he gasps for breath, fingers digging into your skin, he knows he’s bruising you but he can’t bring himself to think of it as anything other than finally marking you down at his.

And then, when your breathy voice curls in the air, settling on his chest like a balm, he feels the glass melt away, turning to liquid fire in his gut. The words you utter tear open his heart, leaving a gaping, belligerent wound that he knows only you can mend.

“I love you, Shouto, I love you too.”

His eyes find yours, wide and wanting. You nod as if that will solidify his place in the universe, tears blurring your vision, repeating the sentiment over and over again, uncaring to the way your face looks glassy beneath the lowlight of the bedroom. You just need him to know, need him to understand.

“Shit,” he pushes the heel of his palm into the bottom of your stomach, itching to feel the way his cock pulses in and out of you as he thrusts into your body. His thoughts are even more permanent now, the idea of filling you up, pouring his body into you in the most primal way possible, is the only thing he can see. Your hand makes its way into his hair, tugging at the crown of his head as you lean forward.

A mix of crimson and white is bunched between your fists, matching the little tufts of hair that tickle your pelvis every time he bottoms out within you. You scrape your nails against his scalp, but that only spurs him on faster, panting moans busting his throat open and begging you for more.

Your lashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks, mouth parted so he can see the pink of your tongue, “Sh-Sho’, I’m close.”

He makes it his mission to twitch his cock within your walls, providing an extra layer of stimulation as his channels himself into you mercilessly. Somehow, he does it with such a finesse that it does not feel rushed or sloppy. Shouto is very careful, precise, in everything he does, and you are not surprised it works its way into the mannerisms he exhibits between the sheets as well.

“C’mon, darling,” he coos into your ear, folding your thighs upward so you’re fully pressed into the mattress, “I want you to come for me, yeah? I want you to coat my cock. You can do it, you’re close, I can feel it.”

His praise intertwined with the thickness of his cock bulging within you breaks the crest of the wave, allowing pleasure to flow through your body and onto his cock, coating him in your thick, sweet release.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Shouto continues to thrust upward into you, eyes focused on your face as he uses your cunt to bring his own euphoria down from the clouds. He’s looking down at you, jaw hung wide as he buries his cock into your tight heat, enjoying the way your slick lubricates his length.

You buck up into him and he drops his head to your collarbone, thrusts becoming sloppier the longer he tries to hang on to the edge of the cliff. Your hand in his hair tugs on the strands, mouth by his ear as you whisper, “Please, Shouto, want to feel you come in me. I want you to pump me full of your hot load, stuff me-ah.”

His hips stutters as he releases his seed into you, tongue lapping at your throat carelessly to try and force his body not to start up again. The need to feel you coming around him, begging for his cock and come, is something he has been denying for too long.

“I love you,” he whispers into the curve of your earlobe, nipping at the skin as his hips still. “Fuck, I love you.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to the curve of his scalp, “I love you too.”

As he reaches the extent of his high, he presses his body flat into you, cock twitching within your core. Your palms find his shoulders, grazing gently with your fingernails until he’s moaning into your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin.

“Unless you want to go again, I suggest you put an end to that,” he warns, but there is no intent behind it.

You laugh, rubbing your ankle against his calf, “We’ve got a little one about to wake from her nap. Maybe later.”

And that is a promise you fully intend to keep.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Momma?”

You turn your head, pancakes on the griddle in front of you, “Yes, honey?”

Hana bounces towards you, white chiffon dress bubbling out at her knees, “When is breakfast ready?”

“When daddy gets back from his run,” you answer her, squatting in front of her to smooth the wrinkles from the fabric of her dress. “I made yours with choco-chips.”

Her eyes go wide and you feel a little sunbeam shining directly on your heart, warming your chest. She grabs you by the cheeks, palms squishing your lips together, “You can’t tell daddy!”

“Oh, I won’t,” you promise, voice distorted from the way she has you in her grasp. You brush a hand through her silver curls, tucking the strands away from her face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Don’t tell daddy what?”

Hana squeals, turning on her heels to sprint towards the garage door. She’s on Shouto’s leg in an instant, clutching him like her life depends on it. You stand back to your feet, brushing your thighs clean before turning back to the griddle to start another round of pancakes.

“We can’t tell you or else it won’t be a secret, duh!” Hana sticks her tongue out as she pokes Shouto’s leg, rolling her eyes like it should be obvious. “Look, Momma’s making pancakes!”

Todoroki looks across the room at you, eyes reminding you of colorful gems as they behold you. Every time you catch him staring at you, you swear it’s even more infatuated than the last, his love for you only growing as time passes.

“Is she?” He peels her from his leg to shift her into his arms, holding her securely against his side. Todoroki walks over to you, leaning into the counter so he’s close enough that you can reach him but far enough that he can’t burn Hana on the griddle.

“You’re back quicker than I expected,” you admit, pouring batter out onto the stovetop. You grab the spatula, prepared to flip once they look done enough, “Did you pull something?”

Shouto shakes his head, leaning forward to intercept you with a kiss to the lips, “I just missed you.”

“Ew, gross! Kissing means cooties!” Hana pushes your faces apart, a hand on your mouths as she dramatically lolls her tongue out of her mouth to prove her disgust.

You chuckle, leaning forward to brush her hair from her eyes again, tucking it behind her ear even though you know it will spring forward not long after. Your eyes flash from her to her father, watching the pride settle into his irises, solidifying them even more. A gentle touch of your hand to his bicep brings him back to you, gaze unwavering as he maps out the features of your face yet again, each time finding something new to behold.

“Well, that means you have time to shower before we eat,” you squeeze his arm and return to your station at the griddle, flipping the next set of pancakes. “I’ve still got to make eggs and bacon, and some hash browns for the princess.”

Hana is beaming, bright smile tugging on the strings of your heart, “Momma makes the best hash browns.”

Todoroki places her back down on the ground, patting her backside as a silent gesture to tell her to go play. She takes his hint, sprinting back into the living room to resume her tea party with a stuffed elephant and a Ken barbie doll.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You never-ooh.”

He’s got you by the neck with one hand, the other anchoring to your hip to hold you close. Todoroki melds your mouths together, the heat of his body quickening your pulse. He steps closer, knee between your thighs so you can feel the hard bulge pressing into the fabric of his running shorts.

You hum as he parts from you, pancakes momentarily forgotten in the wake of his affections. You pat your hands on his chest, gnawing on your lower lip, “Smooth one, Todoroki.”

Shouto pinches your hip, growing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You. Me. Nap time.”

“Oh?” you ask as he unwinds himself from you, nudging your body back towards the griddle.

“And I’m not talking about sleeping.”

Todoroki disappears from around the corner, slipping up the stairs to your now shared bedroom.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips. When you go to turn this set of pancakes, the diamond sitting on your left hand catches the luminescent lights of the kitchen and you marvel at it. You roll your ring around on your finger, trying to find a different angle to appreciate it from, but you’ve already memorized the shape of it after three years of marriage.

Your palm finds the gentle swell of your navel beneath the baggy t-shirt you’re wearing, one of Shouto’s early proofs for a new merchandise design. You bite your lip and look down, speaking to the rustling new life currently blooming in your belly, “Here’s to tomorrow, little one. May it always be just a little better than today.”

The pancakes are done and the bacon is sizzling when Shouto returns with damp hair and a pair of sweats on the lower half of his body. He curls an arm around you from behind, kissing your shoulder, “Smells good, love.”

You turn to offer him a kiss, which he takes with fervor. Hana voices her disgust from her seat at the table, but Shouto hushes her quickly with a playful rise of his eyebrow, pointed finger making her giggle.

The three of you are sat down to breakfast, just like any other Saturday, but this one feels special for some reason. You can’t quite make it out; maybe it’s the sun shining outside or the crisp breeze blowing through the open windows, but your soul is settled in a way that can only be achieved by utter bliss.

“Hey,” Shouto calls you from your stupor, “your choco-chip pancakes are going cold.”

You blink slowly, returning your gaze to him, a gentle smile on your face.

At least you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with someone as mindful and kind as Todoroki Shouto.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

Text

You’re Not a Monster

Dean x Reader

a/n: I’m putting an authors note here because I don’t know how to tag the reader. She’s a werewolf shapeshifter. She shifts into a wolf like in all of my A/B/O fictions I’ve written. Basically it’s Twilight shit that I write my werewolves. XD Don’t mind me.

Bingo Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Warnings: STRONG ANGST, Language, SPN level gore and blood, scary situations, Fluff end to the rescue.

Summary: Dean discovers something different with the reader and it changes their relationship. Is there anything worth saving after Dean learns the truth.

Word Count: 2,609

Square: Quote A (“How about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?”) @supernatural-jackles. SPN Tell me a Story Bingo.

a/n#2: This is not part of the Finding Him storyline.

a/n #3: My dumb ass forgot to credit the creator of this gif, I space out and forget, I’m not dumb...but credit for the gif goes to @supernaturalfreewill

“Shit.” She muttered, as she morphed back into her human form to find a very furious looking Dean looking back at her.

They were on a wendigo hunt, when a wendigo almost had a upper hand on Dean, she had morphed into her white wolf form to get out of a tight situation with another wendigo.

Wendigos, though fearless of their prey. But when they are the prey, it’s a whole other ballgame. They began to back off of the hunters. But Dean fired off two flare guns to kill the two wendigos before they got away.

“Dean, I can explain.”

He grabs his colt, loaded with silver bullets. Aiming it at her.

“Dean.” She begged.

“We talked about everything.” He shouted. “Whatever happened to that? When were you gonna tell me about this?”

“Well, how about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?” she suggested with a shaky voice.

“Talk, now.” He demanded. Ignoring her suggestion. Keeping his gun up and pointed at her.

“Well, my mom was human, and my dad was a werewolf. I don’t know what else to really say.”

“You fucking morphed into a giant ass wolf!”

“I’m not that big honestly.”

“Y/N!”

“Half Breads like me are smaller than the pure breeds. And a certain gene causes the morphing. Most werewolves don’t morph, you just see the fangs and the claws. My kind morph.”

“Now answer the second question.”

She swallowed thickly. Still nervous and scared of the man she’s trusted and loved for years.

“I was never going to mention it to you because I was scared of this. I’m still scared of you finding out somehow some way, and killing me in my sleep.”

For the first time in the night, she saw her flash across the older Winchester’s face.

Faint foot falls can be heard, Sam entered the cave room where they stood. Sam seeing Dean aiming a gun at Y/N.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam shouted at the scene.

“She’s a monster, Sam. And she’s lied to us, all this time, she’s lied to us!” he shouted.

“That’s not true, Y/N, tell him.”

“What can I tell him?”

“Dean, do you count how many times she’s had our backs?” Sam asked. “There was that werewolf case in Minnesota when the pack leader cut you up pretty badly. She murdered that son of a bitch and saved your ass. And then there was that witch in Mississippi, the witch turned you into wolf, we couldn’t move you around the city like a normal dog because people knew a wolf from a husky. She managed to find the counter spell, turn you back to human. Then there was that ---”

“I get it Sam, but she could have told me she was part fucking wolf!”

“She had all that time still, all that time to kill us and she didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter Sammy.” He says, lowering his gun looking at her with disgust. “I can’t trust her.” He says to her.

“Dean please!” she begged tearfully.

“Don’t.” he snapped.

She snapped her jaw shut and she just let her tears fall freely.

“Find your own way back to the bunker, I expect you to be out before morning.”

They stood in the cave room in dead silence despite Y/N’s sniffles from her tears.

“Don’t ever come back.” He warns.

He holsters his gun, and turns to walk out of the cave. Sam couldn’t say anything to Y/N to make her feel better before she silently walked out not far behind his brother.

One year turned into three, the Winchester’s and Y/N stayed apart but still kept up on hunting. That is until one hunt brought them together again.

It started with hearts being ripped out of college students in the Navajo desert.

Y/N was the first to investigate, one of the students place of death was just outside of an old reservation, a cave dwelling in northern Arizona.

Odd, I smell wolf, but I smell something else. She thought.

She heard a screech from a monster inside the cave dwelling.

Not wolf, wendigo. She panicked. Realizing she was unprepared.

The wendigo showed itself to her, being three times her size, head nearly reaching the caves ceiling.

“Oh, your one of the first wendigos…” she says to herself. Thinking out loud.

It let out another ear shattering screech. Y/N covered her ears desperately to save her hearing. But the wendigo drew its hand back, landing a hard swing of it’s claws. Knocking her across the cave dwelling, hitting the wall hard. Hearing a loud crack, she landed hard on the ground. She felt something warm and sticky ooze out of the back of her head.

She saw the wendigo crawl towards her before her world turned black.

Weeks later, more bodies turn up, picking up the attention of the Winchester’s.

“If this is werewolves, why was the most recent death out in the desert?” Dean asked.

“Maybe their hold up in the old caves the Navajo natives stayed in? I don’t know Dean, but it was a little over two weeks ago. And their saying a person went missing last week, they were probably looking into the same thing we are.”

“Well, let’s go gank this son of a bitch, stop the bodies from dropping out here.”

With that, they loaded up the Impala for the 50 mile trek to the Navajo Cave Dwellings.

“This looks so cool; I wonder how the Natives lived in these things.” Sam says fully mesmerized.

“Alright nerd, focus.”

Sam just rolls his eyes. As they searched higher along the cave dwellings.

“Oh my god no,” Sam breaths. His heart dropping to his stomach.

“What?” Dean asked, not far behind from Sam.

When Sam took off running, he managed to catch a good glimpse at what he was running to. More like who he was running to.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted.

Dean took off at his heel running to her side.

“Her wounds are weeks old; she may not make it Dean.”

“Don’t talk like that, she’ll make it.”

“Y/N, baby, can you hear me?” Dean asked, trying to cup her head, his fingers dragging across dried blood. Pulling away, Sam seeing the dried chips of blood on his hand.

“Can wolves like her heal?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, I never looked into it.”

“Dean, what if she’s gonna die?”

“Sammy, listen to her heart, listen to her breathing, she’s still here with week old wounds. If she didn’t die yet, she’s not gonna.”

Sam began to investigate her wounds further. Seeing the infected gash on her stomach and chest.

“She’s running a bit of a fever Sammy; we need to get her out of here.” Dean says, after running a hand on her forehead.

“Dean, these are Wendigo wounds.” Sam says, pulling up her shirt. Causing the injured girl to groan.

“Easy, Y/N, you’re safe, we got you.” Dean soothed.

“Dean,” she groans. She seemed like she was awake, but her eyes weren’t opening.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s me. You’re okay.”

“Wendigo,” she whispers.

“I know baby, we know it’s a wendigo now.”

“Giant…Wendigo…” she mutters before her body goes limp in his arms.

“Giant wendigo?” Sam asked.

“Could be a hallucination?” Dean questioned.

There was a distant screech in the dwellings.

Sam looked on within the dwellings, and he caught first glimpses of the Wendigo.

“Um, Dean, we might have to abort this one.”

“Why---oh fucking shit.” Dean says following Sam’s gaze seeing the size of the Wendigo crawling out of the Dwellings.

“Sam, that death that was out here, was it even a werewolf?” Dean asked.

“Nope, they ranked it up to animal attack.”

“Then lets get Y/N, and lets get the hell out of here.” Dean says, scooping Y/N up with little to no effort. “Fuck this, lets get!” Dean shouts.

The Wendigo lets out a ear shattering screech. The boys didn’t stop, they hurried as fast as they could out of the cave.

A hand of the wendigo crashed near them, the impact causing them to fly out. Sam flying off left, rolling, and hitting a wall. Dean lost his footing, rolling down the walkway, loosing Y/N from his hold, his back hitting the wall of the pathway. And Y/N stopped halfway on the path.

The roll had dazed Dean a bit, before he noticed the Wendigo was moving to land his hand down to crush Y/N.

“Y/N! NO!” Dean shouted helplessly.

At the sound of Dean’s voice was enough for Y/N to find a small ounce of energy to wake and morph.

Her wolf form let out whine at the pain from the infected wounds. She stumbled to get her footing to jump towards Dean. The wendigo missing her just mere inches.

But the effort proved to be too much for her to handle. She collapsed onto Dean’s lap with a whine and huff. The wolf totally unconscious again.

Sam was first up rushing to his brother.

“Dean, we can’t fight this, it’s too big. And Y/N could be dying from those infections. Let’s get.”

“Help me carry her, she morphed.”

“I’ll grab her tail end; you grab her head.”

They did as planned, and they rushed back to the Impala. Laying the wolf in the back seat. Dean hurries to the driver seat, Sam already in the passenger seat. Dean turned the key in the ignition, roaring the engine to life. He puts it into gear, and he peels out of the canyon where the Cave Dwellings sat, driving full speed to the motel.

Eventually she morphed back to her human form in her unconscious state as she laid healing in the older Winchester’s bed.

Dean was not letting up; he was going on two nights of no sleeps. He had not moved from his spot by her bedside.

“Dean.” Sam says entering his room.

“I’m not hungry Sammy.”

“Dean, you know when she wakes up and when she finds out you doing this to yourself she’s gonna kick your ass, you know that right.”

“Let her.”

“Dean.” Sam says with a sigh.

“I was so angry with her for her not telling me everything. But she did have a point, “hey guys I’m part monster, don’t kill me.””

Sam stayed silent. Letting Dean just talk it out.

“She would have a reaction to silver, I never looked into, I never asked her. And I pointed a gun at her. I was literally two seconds away from killing the one girl I loved. When there was nothing wrong with her.”

“Dean, your trust with her was broken. You took the time away to reflect, and you saw neither one of you were in the wrong.”

“I overreacted.” Dean says, rubbing his eyes to push the sleep away.

“You did, and there’s nothing wrong with it. She’s the most understanding girl I think, I’ve ever met. I’m sure she’ll forgive you Dean.”

“You remember that witch case?” Dean asked.

“The one where you were changed into a wolf?”

Dean nodded. “Remember you asked why a wolf?”

Sam nodded.

“It’s because of her. Somehow, some part of me knew she was a wolf. She’s my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? So, changing what spell did that witch use on you anyway?”

“She kept saying something about me walking around this world lost and alone. She said the spell would turn me into the spirit of my soulmate.”

“Wolf, because she’s part wolf.”

Dean nods.

She stirs with a groan pulling the boys attention away from their story to her.

“Sam, did you ever look into her healing process, is it different to us?”

“It is, she heals faster. But her wounds were infected. I gave her, her a shot to help her body fight the infection. Her color is coming back, she’s looking better.”

“She does.” Dean agrees, letting out a yawn.

“Dude, get some sleep.”

“I’m fine Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes as he exited his brother’s room.

She woke up to the familiar scent of the Winchester’s, but the scent of one of the brothers was stronger than the other.

Dean.

She woke up in his room. Feeling a weight on her hip, she sits up slightly seeing him use her hip as a pillow. And he was sound asleep.

His arms looked as if they were trying to hold her as best as he could from where he sat.

She tried to sit up more, but a sharp pain stopped her. She winces.

“You might want to stay in bed, you were banged up pretty bad.” She heard Sam say in Dean’s dark room.

“Wait, what? How?” she asked, trying to understand. Remember.

“We were hunting werewolves, when one death of a victim took us to where you were.”

“Did you guys?”

“Oh, hell no. That fucker was way too big. I don’t think one flare would kill it.”

“You didn’t try?” she asked.

“No, we were more worried about you. You were in pretty rough shape.”

Dean stirred, snuggling closer to her, rubbing his head into her hip.

She ran her hand through his short strands of his hair.

“He was really worried about you, believe it or not.”

“I could feel it.”

“I guess that’s the soulmate thing.”

“What?”

“You remember that witch case, when Dean was a wolf?”

She nods.

“The spell used; Dean says the witch used a spell to turn him into the spirit of his soulmate. And he turned into a wolf.”

“That’s a thing?”

“I guess.” Sam shrugs.

In his sleep, Dean let out a big yawn. Almost pulling him out of his deep slumber.

“Dean.” She says.

“hmm.” He says sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“Come to bed.”

With his eyes still closed, he works at pulling off his boots, taking off his flannel, shirt, and pants. Leaving his boxer briefs on. He pulls the covers off of her, and snuggles in close to her, wrapping an arm around her middle. And snuggling his head into the crook of her neck.

“At least he’s a sleep.”

“I know, like I said, I felt it. I could feel that he was going to wake up sore if he was gonna stay like that.”

“You two make thee most cutest couple, I’m just admitting that right now.”

“Did I just hear Sam Winchester refer to us as cute?” she smirked playfully.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just good seeing him happy again.”

“I know, I—”

“I know you could feel it, I’m heading to bed now darlin’, good night.”

“Night Sammy.” She yawned, letting the older Winchester snuggle more into her. “Night Dean, I love you.”

She woke up feeling a hand play with her hair, petting through her long strands atop her head.

She hums, snuggling into the hand. Hearing him chuckle. And felt warm plump limps kiss her forehead briefly.

She opens her eyes to a pair of beautiful green ones. “Hi.” She says softly.

“Hi, sleep good?” Dean asked.

“Better than I had in years.”

“I bet,” he says, giving her another peck on her head. “I called Garth, I’m having him get your things and we’re moving you back in with us.”

“I take it I’m welcome back?” she asked carefully.

“You are welcome back, soulmate.” He says snuggling back into her making her giggle.

“Are all caught up now?”

“I think we are.” Dean admits. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Never again, no more secrets, no more mistrust. Never leave me again.”

“I don’t plan on it Winchester.”

Their lips crash into one another in a passionate, much needed kiss.

Tags:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/8/2021

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flufflepuffle296 · 4 years

Text

Heathers au: Beautiful Songfic

This is more centred around Veronica/Marinette so not really any mentions of Heather/Heather/Heather. Sorry if someone’s done this before I apologise I just got into Heathers like two days ago. Also I changed some lyrics and took others out to make it more “realistic”. Sorry I suck at endings, it’s 5:30am rn and this is my first fic so be nice please! (I’m on mobile so I can’t add the keep reading tag so sorry if you don’t like this) xxx

I brushed down my dress: I couldn’t give them anything to criticise me over. Everything had to be perfect. I had to be perfect. Chloé sat next to me, my beautiful fiancée, slipping on her kitten heels. She may be 3 months pregnant but no Bourgeois woman would be seen wearing flats. I was in a red floor length a line dress — I grew out of my childish pink years ago, before it even went out of fashion! My hair was twisted into two plaits that were knotted together into a stylish bun at the back. Chloé meanwhile had stuck to her white and gold aesthetic, currently in a slim fitting white dress, showing off her small baby bump, decorated with gold jewellery. I rummaged through my drawers, trying to find a lipstick, when a thin book toppled out. I picked it up, and laughed fondly when I saw what it was.

My old Collège and Lycée diary.

I flipped through it, landing on the page that stuck most clearly in my mind. It was the day my class reminded me of my current reality at that time, shocking me out of a bubble that had surrounded me during the summer holidays that year.

September 1st, 1989.

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year!

And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?

I bit my lip. What happened? I knew darn well what happened. Lila Rossi. She came in, flaunting her friendships and connections, a new disability every other week to cry about, another rumour about me coming out every 3 days.

Alya ended our friendship, Adrien continued to cry about Lila’s feelings. Lila just kept doing what she did best. The class gave up on changing my mind and instead decided that calling me names would be better. Because logic?!

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Burnout!” “Bug-eyes!” “Poser!” “Lard-ass!” Were the insults they liked to yell daily. Yeah, they weren’t the most creative...

We were so tiny, happy and shiny. Playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping. Baking cookies, eating paste.

Nino and Kim used to come over to the bakery when we were kids, where we’d gorge ourselves on sweets, before celebrating our sugar rushes by chasing each other in the park and then crashing on my sofa, cuddled in blankets and laying on top of each other.

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger. Like the Huns invading Rome. Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon. College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...Just not today.

I scoffed at my optimism back then. Them changing? They never did, I don’t know why I bothered trying at that point. I should’ve moved on but hey! We all make mistakes. It’s just that sometimes you make 11 friendships worth of mistakes.

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Cripple!” “Homo!” “Homo!” “Homo!”

I cringed as I read their old “insults”. They would write homophobic messages across my locker, getting Alix to spray paint a few slurs across my work after I came out as bisexual.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma. Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls, no smoky French cafés. Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

I had purposefully sent out applications to universities far away from these people, from Paris. All three schools accepted me, something I can’t say about my classmates, most of whom were rejected for essays on false information (sourced by Lila) and a quick scan over the Ladyblog meant not a single newspaper would even consider my ex-best friend. Gabriel Agreste, as I later found out through my internship in America, had to bribe several schools with double tuition to get even one to accept Adrien, after he got exposed as sexual harasser and disgraced hero “Chat Noir”. I turned back to my diary, having to peel off rock hard gum from the page that someone had smeared in “revenge”.

Le Chiên Kim. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick.

“What did you say to me, skank?” He would yell, his fist raised in the hallway.

“Aah, nothing!” I then cowered. I may be Ladybug, but he was 150lbs of pure rage. No one can compete with that!

But I know, I know... Life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray, For a better way. We can be beautiful...

“Marinette! Wide load! Honnnnnk!”

He was the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!”

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” He used to snarl, his hands covered in sauce from knocking my tray.

I stood my ground, I had been practising for this moment. “Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on me. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant.”

Kim then smirked, crouching down to eye level and pressing a finger to my forehead. “You have a zit right there...” he pointed out, causing the cafeteria to laugh at my expense.

I used to ask myself “Why... Why do they hate me?”

And hear Adrien whisper “Why don't I fight back?”

Watch as Max Googled “Why do I act like such a creep?”

Listen in on Lila stamping her feet in the bathroom asking “Why won't he date me?” Clearly frustrated.

Kim panicking as he wondered “Why did I hit him?”

And Chloé sob down the phone “Why do I cry myself to sleep?”

I would stay up late, screaming, begging. At my lowest points I would cry out “Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!”

I remember when I first met my real friends. The famed trio had gone into the bathroom and I followed after them, clearly my throat.

“Who are you?”

“Uh... Marinette Dupain Cheng. I crave a boon”

“What boon?” Chloé asked, filing her nails.

“Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. If our class think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone...”

Chloé threw her nail file out and began circling around me, running her hands through my hair, commenting that “For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure!” Before coming to a conclusion.

“And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Kagami, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful.” Sabrina and Kagami, chimed in, echoing her words.

“Let's make her beautiful...”

“Let’s make her beautiful...”

“Make her beautiful...Okay?” Chloé ordered, dragging me out with Kagami and Sabrina, driving me to her hotel. They sat me down, taking my hair out of its bunches and brushing it out. Kagami painted my nails a deep navy with surprising precision, manning my cuticles. Sabrina twirled my hair into a high bun, leaving a few pieces at the front to frame my face. Chloé came back from her wardrobe, throwing a blue blazer and grey skirt at me. I changed into my outfit for them, to which they clapped their hands in glee. They dragged me back to school, taking in everyone’s reactions to the new and improved me. This became my new daily outfit for the rest of the year — the class couldn’t find anything bad about it, and even if they did Chloé would threaten them with her father’s power.

I was happy with my squad. Kagami taught us Japanese and Chloé taught us American English that she’d picked up from her mother. I taught them self defence, under the guise of learning it from my mum, unknowingly training them for the day I would rip Chat Noir’s miraculous from him, before slamming it into Kagami’s palm. I needed help that day, so thrust them bee and the fox miraculous at Chloé and Sabrina respectively. They became permanent heroes, Kagami under the name “Noirette”, Chloé under the new guise of “Buttercup” and Sabrina “Renard Rouge”. Akuma attacks have never lasted more than 15 minutes since we got rid of that alley cat, and we’ve been closing in on Hawkmoth recently.

I shook my head, snapping the crude book shut, throwing the diary in the bin. Today was going to be the day I made peace with all that happened, our 10 year school reunion. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna make up with anyone, just that I will finally leave everything behind. I found my lipstick and smeared on the crimson lip, smacking my lips together. I grabbed my clutch and helped Chloé stand up, though she wobbled a little in her heels. I slid her miraculous into her updo, blowing a kiss at her as to not ruin her makeup.

We met up with Kagami and Sabrina in the hallway, Kagami in a wine red suit with gold jewellery, and Sabrina was in emerald green to compliment her red hair. We stepped into the limo awaiting us outside and set off, arriving at the school 10 minutes later. We walked up the steps, hitching up our dresses and arrived in the courtyard. It had been lit up with fairy lights, with stands of food and drinks scattered around the court. Our old classmates were huddled in small groups, whilst Mlle. Mendeleiev’s was in a large group, enjoying each other’s company after 10 years apart.

No one noticed us, until Rose pointed at me and whispered “Who’s that with Chloé?” The group turned to stare at us, trying to place my face. Adrien looked up from talking to Lila, who seemed to be flaunting a rather tacky Gabriel engagement ring, and whispered,

“Marinette?!”

The class began gossiping amongst themselves, “Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?!”

I ignored them, their childish ways were behind me, and walked up to Aurore and Mireille, fawning over their relationship. They turned Kagami, asking her about her life and squealing over her Olympic medal for fencing. I grinned as I watched my old class, happy that they had moved on from each other — well apart from Alya and Adrien, who were still hooked on Lila. I was finally, content! I thought back on my diary, one particular paragraph standing out to me at this time.

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels, lookin' like hell on wheels...My God, it's beautiful! I feel so beautiful... And when you're beautiful...It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Chloé boasted my achievements, my business, my awards, and the entire of Mendeleiev’s class started chanting “Marinette! Marinette! Marinette!”, much to my embarrassment. I boasted her’s in return, Sabrina revealed how far she’d come as a lawyer, Kagami swung her prized sword from side to side as she listened to us all catching up, laughing at the memories.

It really was a beautiful day.

#lila salt #adrien salt #class salt #marinette deserves better #alya salt #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloe sugar #kagami tsurugi #sabrina raincomprix #heathers au #beautiful heathers #songfic

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kanerallels · 3 years

Note

Donicus Crossover ATLA (PLEASE ADD TOPH PLZ PLZ PLZ) Thank you!!!

It would be my honor-- here goes nothing lol!!!

Pairing: Marcus Lanum/Idony St. Claire

Word count: ??? I'm on mobile rn, I'll update this later. Somewhere in the 1000s

Tags/Warning: G rating (for glaring, at Marcus, from Noah). One minor injury and a little blood

Getting lost in Republic City was no joke. The place was absolutely huge, with a lot of streets and different buildings. It was also decidedly unhelpful when some people in your group (Berlyne, Apen and Noah) wanted to go watch pro-bending, while others (Marcus, Enel and Idony) wanted to find the library. (Chara and Joe were undecided.)

“I could have sworn we should have turned left back there,” Marcus muttered, studying the map he was holding. The whole group had paused on a street corner, and he and Apen were studying the map, trying to figure out where they were. Berlyne and Noah were nearby, mostly making unhelpful comments as Enel and Chara ignored the whole proceedings while excitedly pointing out parts of the city to each other.

As for Idony, she had her arm tucked around Marcus’s, her head tilted up towards the sunlight as she listened to the city. Marcus paused a moment to look away from the map at her, seeing the way the sun glinted off her golden curls and a soft smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

Then he saw Noah shoot him a glare, and hastily redirected his attention to the map, just as Apen shook his head. “No, we were supposed to go straight-- if that’s even where we are. I think we’re on this street.” He jabbed a finger at a different spot on the map.

“Impossible,” Marcus protested. “We passed the candy store on Main Street-- that was where we got off track in the first place because Enel was trying to drag us in there.”

“Yeah, and we went east instead of north.”

“No, we--”

Berlyne let out an exasperated sigh. “You guys have been arguing about this for the past ten minutes. Why don’t we just ask for directions again?”

“We don’t need them!” Marcus said, lifting the map. “I can figure out where we’re going. Now, where did we turn past the police station again?”

“I’m with Berlyne,” Irony said to Marcus’s dismay. “We should just ask how to get there. Enel!”

The copper-haired boy turned from the fire hydrant he and Chara were admiring. “Yeah?”

“Would you and Chara find someone who can give us directions, please?”

“On it!” Enel promptly darted out into the street with Chara on his heels. He’d barely made it two steps when Marcus heard someone shout, “STOP!!”

Chara froze, and Enel, who did not stop, slammed straight into the source, a tan-skinned young man around Marcus’s age. He had a ponytail, although his hair was shaved at the sides, and wore a blue tunic and pants and blue fingerless gloves. At his side he wore a long sword that Marcus recognized from his reading as a jian, and on his back was a strangely triangular-shaped sheath of some kind.

He squinted at Enel. “Oh. Good news, guys, he’s not actually on fire. That’s just his hair.”

“Which is exactly what we told you,” pointed out one of his other two companions. They were both girls around his own age-- one in green robes and armor, her face painted completely white, with red above the eyes and along her lips. The other girl was younger and a little shorter, clad in what looked to be a green jumpsuit of some kind, with a pale yellow overtunic. She was shoeless for some reason, and her bangs hung loose over her eyes, which-- Marcus did a double take-- were filmed over in a similar manner to Idony. Was this girl blind, too?

Shrugging, Berlyne said, “Well, it’s an understandable mistake when it comes to Enel.”

Enel shot her a wounded look as Apen blurted out, “Wait-- are you a Kyoshi warrior?” He was staring at the girl in white makeup, who looked surprised.

“I am,” she said.

“I’ve read about those,” Marcus said, his eyes widening. “Named for the mythical Avatar Kyoshi, who supposedly founded them. You’re made up entirely of women and wield weaponized fans.”

“I heard stories about you growing up,” Apen said, his eyes going glassy as he clearly slipped back to the past. “My si-- uh, people I knew hero worshipped you guys.”

“We’re honored, in that case,” the girl said with a smile. “I’m Suki. This is Sokka of the Water Tribe, and Toph Beifong.”

“Beifong? As in Lao Beifong, the business man?” Apen asked.

Folding her arms, Toph said, “No, as in Toph Beifong, greatest earthbender in the world. Get that in your head, short stuff.”

“Hey!” Apen looked offended as Toph whipped out an arm, pointing directly at Marcus.

“As for you, yes, I’m blind. Stop staring or I’ll throw you in the ocean. I have pretty great range as an earthbender, you know.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Marcus protested, and Sokka chuckled.

“First mistake-- Toph can sense when you’re lying.” Leaning over to Apen, he said, “She really is the best earthbender ever. Don’t tell her I said it, though, it would only go to her head.”

“I can hear you, bozo,” Toph said flatly.

“Oops.”

Swatting Marcus’s shoulder, Idony said, “Marcus! That’s rude! But-- you’re blind, too?”

“‘Too?’” Toph echoed.

“Oh, yeah-- Idony’s blind,” Enel said helpfully. “She’s with Marcus.” He punctuated the “with Marcus” by wiggling his eyebrows aggressively.

Choosing to ignore him, Marcus said, “I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just surprised--”

“Don’t care,” Toph said, waving a hand dismissively, and Noah snorted.

“I might actually be starting to like this earthbender. Here’s a question-- can you actually launch someone into the harbor, and do I have to choose between Enel and Marcus?”

“Noah!” Idony said, irritation flashing across her face. “You’re not launching them anywhere.”

Noah grumbled something under his breath, and Berlyne snickered.

“Better luck next time. You’ll just have to do it yourself.”

“You two are my kind of people,” Toph said with a grin. “Okay-- wanna see something cool?”

“Sure,” Berlyne said, looking intrigued.

Taking a wide, firm stance, Toph took a long deep breath. Then, lifting one of her feet up, she slammed it back down into the pavement at the same time as she jerked her hands upwards. A spire of rock shot up out of the ground at Sokka’s feet, catapulting him into the air. He let out a yelp of horror. “TOPH! NOT AGAIN!!!”

Gasps of shock flew around the ground, but Suki and Toph seemed unbothered. With another earthbending move, Toph brought another spire of rock out of the ground, catching Sokka a few feet from the ground. He let out a grunt. “Ow…”

“You’re fine,” Toph said, waving a hand dismissively. “Nothing’s even broken.”

“True. Maybe warn me next time you shoot me into the air, though?” Sokka suggested, sliding off of the rock formation and onto the ground. “And also please put our city’s streets back the way they were.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Toph grumbled, bringing the rock towers back into the ground. They disappeared seamlessly, and she shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t the Earth Rumble, but still fun.”

“Wait-- did you compete in the Earth Rumble?” Berlyne demanded, and Toph smirked.

“Please, I owned the Earth Rumble. All those pansies went crying home once I was done.”

“Technically also true,” Sokka agreed. “I was there.”

“Tell me everything,” Berlyne demanded, and Marcus released a long suffering sigh.

Looking at Suki, he said, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give us directions? We’re trying to get to the library.”

“Pro-bending,” Apen corrected.

Grinning, Suki said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

The three of them moved to the side as Sokka began to give a play-by-play of the Earth Rumble, with Toph occasionally re-enacting moves. Finally, they were fairly certain they had a route mapped out.

“Okay,” Marcus was saying, “so we turn right here--”

He was cut off halfway through as Toph’s latest earth bending move sent rocks flying in their direction. One cracked into Marcus’s temple, and he crashed to the ground with a yelp of pain.

He heard a shout of concern that was probably Enel’s, a snort of amusement that was definitely Noah, and then Idony called his name.

“Marcus!”

She was by his side seconds later, kneeling next to him. “Are you okay?” she asked, a gentle hand touching the side of his face.

His eyes lingering on her face, Marcus felt his heart rate pick up slightly. “I’m, uh, better now,” he managed. “Much better.”

A smile crossed Idony’s face. “You must have been hit hard to be flirting in front of my brother.” Leaning down, she planted a kiss on his forehead, and if Marcus hadn’t been seeing stars before, he was now. “That always makes it better,” she told him.

“Definitely,” Marcus agreed.

He heard a strangled noise from above them, and glanced up to see Apen pointedly looking away from him. “Uh, you okay?” he asked, a slight grin crossing his face.

“You’re way too entertained by this, aren’t you?” Marcus said with exasperation.

“Maybe a little.”

As Apen and Idony helped Marcus to his feet, Sokka came hurrying over. “Ooh, that looks like a nasty cut,” he said, and Marcus lifted a hand to his temple, feeling blood. “Tell ya what, we’ll have my sister Katara look at it. She’s an expert healer with her water bending-- DEFINITELY don’t tell her I said that.”

“Wait,” Apen said, his eyes growing even wider. “Your sister is KATARA???”

"The famous healer?" Marcus said, impressed.

Letting out a groan, Toph said, "If they start swooning over someone every five minutes, it's gonna be a long day."

"And they don't even know that Katara's boyfriend is the Avatar," Sokka observed.

"He's WHAT???" Apen gaped at them.

"Yup. Swooning," Toph said with a sigh. Shooting Marcus and Idony-- who was still standing very close to him-- a look, she added, "And that's not even the only kind of swooning around her."

Noah looked like he wanted to gag, and Marcus almost protested. But then Idony slipped her hand into his, and. Well. Toph wasn't exactly far off. And he definitely didn't mind.

#marcus lanum #idony st. claire #donicus #the silver eye fan fic #the silver eye webcomic #tse #the silver eye #111 followers celebration #it was dope. the end

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Beyond the Bay chapter 15: Honeycutt’s story

Tags: @selfindulgenz @brightlotusmoon

Content warning: Swears, mentions of scars, pain

Raphael kneeled to be level with Honeycutt, who took a few polite steps back with his arms folded behind him.

“Hey… Honeycutt…” Raphael held out a hand to the robot.

Honeycutt’s screen lit up. “Ah! This is what some Terrans call a ‘handshake’ yes?” He took Raphael’s hand in both of his and shook it gently, “I do this?”

“Yes.” Raphael nodded with a patient smile.

“Oh! Wonderful day!”

“You’re… not from earth, are you?” Raphael asked.

“No I am not.” Honeycutt confirmed.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Oh…” Honeycutt’s screen shifted to visible upset, “There are bad, bad people after me and earth was my sanctuary, but now they’re here too…”

“The triceratons?”

“Yes!” Honeycutt said urgently, standing on the tips of his flat feet, “And that is why they cannot return home! It is not safe!”

“Yeah, no shit.” Raph snarled, and he pulled his lips back to display his teeth.

Honeycutt tilted his head. Raphael stayed on his knees for just a moment, eyes shadows as his thoughts sifted through his head, before he stood slowly and turned to Raph. All it took was a simple motion of his hand to draw Raph to the side, where both mutants could talk with some semblance of privacy. Raphael had to lower his head slightly to be level with his counterpart.

“Hey, I know this is really… really frustrating, but could ya maybe try not to upset the robot? We might be able to get more outta him if he doesn’t, you know, hate us?”

Raph snorted, eyes averting to avoid looking at the responsible version of himself. He dragged his hand across his mouth and chin as he calmed himself.

“Yeah— yeah, right.” Raph nodded.

Raphael gave him another pat on the back before returning to Honeycutt, who had been waiting patiently. Raph returned very slowly to his brothers, ignoring Leo’s questioning look in favor of hunching himself and hiding his expression.

“Honeycutt, how have you been hanging around so long without being seen? I mean— we’ve heard you, but this is the first We’re seeing you.”

“Well, when I am anxious or scared, which I have been a lot in recent days, I do tend to take on a certain layer of… transparency to hide.

“I see, I see. Well— where did you come from?” Raphael asked. “Where is your home?”

“I come from a planet many lightyears from here. A planet so like earth that it is uncanny! My home… we were so peaceful. The only way in which my planet strayed from the path of yours was in the way of war which we did not wage!”

 “Woah woah woah, wait.” Donnie interrupted with a wave of his hand to catch Honeycutts attention. “No wars? Not even one?”

“Not even one!” Honeycutt echoed.

“No fighting?”

“Oh, there was plenty of that! And arguments too! Disagreements, just not war. My people were a very pacifistic people, diplomatic and kind toward our fellow hominoids! We worked together, and we developed so quickly that we started to deplete our world's natural resources to a dangerous level. We had to outsource beyond our world for power and for food. That is when my professor, the one who created me, met him.”

“You say that like we’re supposed to know who ‘he’ is.” Raph commented offhandedly.

“Ah! My apologies!” Honeycutt apologized. “The Triceraton Prime Leader: Zanramon! His ancestors— er, that is to say his grandfather—destroyed their planet in the greed and heat of their constant, warring conflicts and infighting, and so they took to the stars on a mobile homeworld searching for a planet to conquer and claim as their own. Their tech was… and still is… severely lacking in several regards.”

Every few words, Honeycutt would pause as if he needed to consider the nicest possible way to talk about the ones hunting him, choosing his words carefully.

“Triceraton are not well known for their craftsmanship. Let’s just say that their ship’s deficits left them very… upset and angry. Then again, that is traditionally the default with Triceratons. They are very unlike my Federation. In fact, one could say we were opposites. For in the entire documented existence of triceratons, their longest era of peace had been just under three of their sun circles— that’s less than one of yours! They saw what we had— our ships and our technology— and they wanted that for themselves. They wanted our ships and they wanted our fuel— our mutagen!”

“Mutagen?” Leo jutted in, eye ridges raising as alarm etched over his features. He looked around at his friends and his brothers just to make sure they were just as unnerved as he was, and they all felt the same way. “Like— like the stuff used to create us?”

“Yes!” Honeycutt interlocked his fingers, standing a little taller to look up to Leo. “Mutagen is life! And until my Professor came along, the only place to get mutagen was Dimension X. But then my Professor, in all of his brilliance, came up with a solution! An artificial mutagen to power our ships, and the Triceratons wanted it very badly. My Professor knew this, and so to prevent this crucial information from falling into the wrong hands, he went into hiding. But the Triceratons found him! You see, my master was a smart man. Smart enough to know he could never hold up against the violent methods of which Triceratons use to extract information. He ran, and in the Triceratons relentless pursuit, he was gunned down. With their chance lost, the Triceratons turned their attention to me, for I was his trusted android, and if he were to share the secrets of his ooze with anyone, it would be with me. But unlike my creator, I escaped, doomed to drift around the vast black until my mutagen reserves ran out. Or… so I thought! But then I crash landed here, on your planet, in your Hudson River!” He pointed eagerly at Leo.

“So you brought them here?” Leo said accusingly, crossing his arms.

“Well, if we’re being realistic, I do believe it is your mutagen they are after. My reserves are far too low to be tracked.”

“Then why now?” Leo’s voice didn't lose its sharp edge, “Why not when we were first made? Or when that canister came to earth to begin with? Why wait?”

“Well— the Triceratons were quite a distance out from the Milky Way when those events would have occurred, but there was a particular event that happened in your world not too long ago that must have drawn their attention!”

He was met with nothing but blank stares.

“Krang’s visit to your world!” Honeycutt provided with a laugh.

Raph’s eyeridges knit together and Donnie’s raised; Mikey pursed his lips in a shocked whistle. Leo’s face remained still, though his eye gave the faintest twitch.

“That was years ago.” Donnie said, his voice shaking with his disbelief.

“Yes, but in the grand scheme of time, it is hardly anything at all! Triceraton ships can only travel so fast. Chances are they were already on their way before I even crashed!”

“So this whole situation…” Leo motioned vaguely, “Is just one big coincidence, huh?”

“Yes!” Honeycutt nodded eagerly.

“I don’t believe you…” Leo towered even higher above Honeycutt if that was possible, and the android shrunk smaller and smaller with every second that passed.

“Well you should…” Honeycutt’s voice was soft. “It is the truth.”

“I thought you agreed to let us handle this.” Leonardo rose to meet Leo’s gaze, his expression just as still and confident as his older counterpart; his eyes held that same calm spirit of defiance that he had shown years before, except stronger now that he was grown.

“I’m just asking questions.” Leo said.

“That was a statement, not a question.” Leonardo said back.

“He’s right Leo, that wasn’t a… a question…” Donnie said unhelpfully.

“Thank you Donnie.” Leo growled through his teeth.

“I… I’m sensing hostility…” Honeycutt’s head almost disappeared with how low he hunched into his shoulders, backing away slowly from the group.

“Wait— no—” Leo tried to correct himself, reaching a hand out toward the robot. “I didn’t mean—“

Honeycutt was already running, flat feet carrying him down the tunnels as his form faded into transparency.

“Great.” Donatello motioned down the tunnel, “There he goes.”

“Wow, he wasn’t lying about the transparency bit.” Donnie hummed.

“Stop him!”

All it took was Leo’s commanding shout for all turtles, even Raphael, to obey and go running after the flight risk. They couldn’t see him anymore, but the android was being less than quiet as he tried to escape. Every clang clang clang that Honeycutt’s feet made as they found impact with the ground rebounded; every noise to the turtles was like pure vibrations. Ninja sense mixed with turtle instinct guided them through the dark, and they saw the robot even when he wasn’t able to be seen. They felt him, his very presence, radiating within each sound.

Leo was the fastest of his team just as Leonardo was the fastest in his; both blue-clad mutants pulled ahead of their brothers, eyes glancing at the other in a silent challenge to prove who was best. Leo ducked his head low and curved to adjust his trajectory and grab at the invisible android, but Leonardo didn't. He dug his feet in the stone and came to a full stop. Leo’s momentary confusion led him to stare at Leonardo a little too long, and to miss his shot.

Leo felt Honeycutt shoot between his legs and back down the way he had come. Leonardo’s right arm went out in automatic instinct to grab the android, and he succeeded. At least, he thought he did before the full-force of the tiny robot sent shockwaves of pain shooting up his arm and into his plastron and neck, following the lines of his barely-scarred wounds like pure fire.

Honeycutt slipped out of Leonardo’s hand as his grip went slack. Honeycutt kept running, and too late was it to stop when he realized the other six turtles were running straight at him. Mikey had carried the lead ahead of his brothers, and so he was the first one to reach Honeycutt; the first to reach out and grab the android around his forearm and—

Mikey’s entire body tensed, as if electricity was shot through it. He likened the pain to the tasers that had been forced against him when their lair was destroyed; pure power that seized everything and made his body refuse to listen to his mind. That thought passed and nothing more came until the black around his body seeped into his mind, and he slumped over unconscious.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles

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trashi-bee · 4 years

Text

Night Shift

Pairing: Young Sub! Joe Elliott x Sassy! Reader

Warnings: 18+ (smut!), light hair pulling, light choking, reader is kinda rude asf towards joe 🤪

Lil Summary: Joe’s your new coworker and things haven’t been going so smoothly, after causing you a considerable amount of stress you finally voice your irritation, which he responds to extremely well.

Requested Tags: @satchie666 @white-lightning-625

Special thanks to @thewritingdoll for forcing me 🔫 to write for the first time in DECADES (bc I never finish anything ☺️)

If you don’t think it’s trash lemme know 💖 I probably won’t add this onto my masterlist until I get my new laptop lol I hate posting on mobile tumblr,, the formatting just makes no sense to me 🥺

——

Working night shift had its perks. The hastle of dealing with the general public was reduced and the atmosphere was a lot more lax. For a while you had a pretty good thing going, being the only employee willing, or needed, to come in at such bleak hours.

Unfortunately, your boss had convinced himself you were in dire need of a workmate in case an incident were to occur, which wouldn’t have been so bad, had the person he hired been anybody else.

Joe was incapable… Really easy on the eyes, but unable to learn even the simplest of tasks. You’d considered having him fired, but couldn’t bring yourself to lodge a complaint. Sure, he’s a little daft, but having him parade into work with a pair of form fitting jeans stretched across his tight figure was almost enough to make up for it, almost.

The undeniable sound of glass shattering detaches you from your salacious thoughts, irritation immediately bubbling throughout your body. Not even an hour into tonight's shift and he’s already managed to turn your mood sour. Dragging your feet across the floor in a huff, you push your way through aisles of snacks and refreshments, stopping to exhale before you enter the room labeled ‘employees only’. The scene you’re met with would have been comical, had similar instances not happened several other times before. With a look of vapid confusion evident on his face, he looks down towards the floor, eyes laid upon the fragments strewn around his feet. The coffee, freshly brewed, had splattered across numerous tiles and up his taut, denim pants.

“Uuhhh, I don’t know how it slipped-”, disorderly grabbing a handful of the nearest napkins, he drops to his knees, further soaking his jeans with the caffeinated beverage while haphazardly mopping up the mess he had created. You’ve made an effort to tightly pinch the bridge of your nose to cease your escalating rage, preventing a full-on outburst. Plastering a forged smile upon your face, you finally gain enough composure to speak, “I’m almost impressed by how clumsy you are”. Looking into your eyes through stray strands of brunette hair, he flashes a vacuous smile, “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I promise I’ll do better… just having a hard time concentrating lately”.

Squinting your eyes in confusion, you’re bewildered by his confession, what exactly did that mean? Pushing all thoughts of perplexity to the side, you chalk it up to nothing, perhaps he was having a difficult time adjusting to night shift. Now feeling somewhat guilty for your attitude towards him, you lower onto your knees to help, carefully picking up rouge pieces of sharp glass.

After a considerable amount of time and effort, the mess is almost entirely taken care of, albeit a few sticky patches here and there. Caught up in cleaning the room around you, you’ve almost forgotten about your uncoordinated coworkers tarnished attire. Wringing out the bottom of his pants, he still manages to hold a delighted smile, as if nothing could ruin his cheerful mood. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible as you were leading him on to be, as you find your cold demeanour now warming up to his rapturous personality.

Simply watching him move was a spectacle of its own. The way he carried himself was .. klutzy, like he was unsure of his next move, allowing his body to haphazardly lead the way. Looking once more in your direction, he flips his hair to prevent it from further blocking his vision, leaving it to cascade down the side of his face. Straightening his frame and leaning against the nearest countertop, he stops to speak, putting on a tone that, if you weren’t mistaken, was slightly apprehensive “hey uh... I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but I’ve been wondering-”, his body seemed to tense with each syllable that crossed his lips, feet unable to stay perfectly grounded. Just as he was about to finish his wavering sentence, his hand slightly slides forward, his large paw knocking a new slew of objects onto the floor.

You watch in vexation as he fumbles once more, like a bull in a china shop, unaware of his lanky stature. As soon as he’d begun to redeem himself, he’d managed to piss you off further. Neither of you had moved, he awaited carefully to gauge your emotions, eyes darting from the broken mug that decorated the floor and your face, now painted with a blank expression. No longer did you possess the patience to babysit a man your own age, every single instance of irritation he’s caused you now bubbling directly to the surface, irritability extremely evident in your voice “Can you do anything right?”.

Scratching the nape of his neck, he goes to shrug, “hey no need to be so-“ stopping him mid-sentence , you interrupt whatever thought he had conjured and thought appropriate to spill from his unoccupied skull, “I’ll speak to you in whatever manner I please, and if you have any ounce of intelligence, you’ll shut up to listen”. Quiet for once, his mouth stays firmly closed for what seems like the first time since you’ve met him. Proud of standing your ground, you begin once more, pushing your limits, “since it’s obvious there’s not a single thought floating through that pretty little head o’ yours, I’ll make this simple, I’m tired of your constant mistakes- it’s not cute, I’m not impressed, and you’re gonna start listening to my instructions or I’ll have you fired”, nibbling on his bottom lip and focusing on every word you speak, he eagerly shakes his head in agreeance, too scared to respond with any other notion.

“Now, I can tell you’ve never had to put on your big boy pants and put any effort into a single task, so this is gonna be rough, but I’m sure if you try really, really hard, you’ll be able to function somewhat decently, ya?”, conjuring up a smile that was sarcastically sweet, you finish, clasping your hands together to signify you’ve made your point. It wasn’t until the red hot rage within you had started to disperse with the end of your speech that you began to notice one unreasonably large elephant in the room; the crotch of his jeans now tighter than usual, a large protrusion begging to spring free from its confines.

Your first reaction was to scoff, you couldn’t believe he’d gotten off on your tangent, excited by your frustration and cruel words. Thoroughly eyeing up his bulge, you slowly trace your sight up to his reddening cheeks, “that’s the type of stuff you’re into?”.

Finally speaking up, his voice seems shakier than ever, shy and wavering, “well uh- fuck, it’s not my fault you look so damn good when you’re mad”, hyper-aware of the confession he begins to jumble his words, “well, I mean you always look good but- oh god I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t speak to you like this-“

Stepping forward and lifting your hand to the bottom half of his face, you cover the entirety of his mouth, “shut up”, using your other hand to trace lines on his stomach, he retracts, surprised by your touch. With a devious look on your face, you provide him with a proposition, “Do you want me to touch you?”. Since you’ve removed his ability to consent verbally, you await a nonverbal cue, one he provides before you’re able to finish your sentence, an undeniable yes given to you via enthusiastic nod.

Laughing at his eagerness to continue, you taunt him, sliding your northernmost hand into his dense locks and pulling on the strands. The hand once dancing on his abdomen now applying pressure on his clothed member. A string of whimpers already begin to fall from his plump lips, he reacts as if he’s barely been touched before. “You’re so..sensitive, does nobody touch you besides yourself?”, looking into your eyes with heavy lids, he begins to grind into your hand, keen for more friction “nobodies ever touched me quite like this”.

Shaking your head, you pull at his hair once more, lavishing in the power you have over him in this moment. “Really? surprised you haven’t been put in your place sooner, guess somebody had to do it”, outlining his rock solid cock with your hand, you begin a rhythm of running your fingers along his covered shaft, moving up and down his length again and again. A few small droplets of sweat begin to form on his skin, the pleasure he was so eager to receive now turning bitter sweet. Huffing out a sigh and continuing to rock his hips with the motion of your wrist, he pleads “can you please touch it, like- really touch it”.

Increasing the pace you’ve set on the outside of his jeans, you get extremely close to his face, so close that he goes in for a kiss, but you make sure to reject it. “I really don’t think you deserve that”.

Grasping the countertop to his side, he clamps down in frustration, looking to prevent himself from going off the deep end, allowing you to break him so easily. “I promise I’ll do anything you want, really I do”, finally releasing your grip on his hair, you move your hand onto his neck, lightly applying pressure and running your thumb along his jugular. “Baby boy, I’m certain you’d do anything I want no matter what”.

The new pet name seems to excite him further, as he’s now reduced himself to a mewling, needy little toy, giving into your cruel pleasure, twitching and jerking with your every touch. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he sharply inhales, as if he was taken by surprise, “fuck, please don’t y/n”.

Applying much more pressure on his neck, you giggle, breaking him was so easy, and something you’re certain you’ll continue on future occasions. “Let it go, baby”, his orgasm was coming on fast and strong, you could tell from the way he squirmed beneath your unrelenting touch.

With one final thrust against your hand he trembles, a sweet sob leaving his mouth, making you aware that he’d actually came from nothing more than clothed petting. A small wet patch had formed on his crotch, physical evidence that he’d climaxed in his pants.

Standing up straight and composing yourself, you run your hands down your body to rid your attire of any wrinkles or imperfections. You’d been away from the front of the store for so long, you’re certain somebody must’ve been awaiting service and you didn’t want to look disheveled in front of a customer. Turning on your heels, you glance back at him before exiting to attend to your duties, “change the pants, clean up the mess you’ve made and meet me out front when you’re ready to learn”.

#joe elliott #HOE ELLIOTT #def leppard #joe elliott x reader #joe elliott smut #def leppard smut #smut #omg this picture.. of joe #so nervous i accidentally referred to him as joel in this and never noticed #sorry yall this is.. trash

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

Text

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.12

a/n: it begins >:)

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings @simpformiya @sayakaaaaaa @colorseeingchick @demursv1ogs @chrisrue15 @beanst0ck @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 13

Time flew by so fast in this dimension. Now that you were well adjusted and loving the new life here, it had not dawned on you that 7 months had already passed. Things were moving smoothly and pleasantly.

“Here you go.” Akaashi handed you a snack bar. The two of you (well maybe three if Bokuto is included) were practically inseparable. The team had finally managed to pin the both of you down and confirm that you two were indeed dating. “Did you sleep well?”

Walking to school was still a thing both of you did. Except this time, fingers were intertwined and barely any distance between the both of you. The only time you two let go was when the school gates were near. Still, walking down the hallways, Akaashi made sure to always brush his fingers with yours.

“I did!” You pulled him in to kiss his cheek. The small smile he gave you still made your stomach butterflies flutter. “I did have a weird dream last night. You and Bokuto-san switched personalities. Seeing you do his ‘HEY HEY HEY’ was just so wrong on all levels.”

“Is there a quirk that can do that?”

At this point in time, you barely relied on your quirk. The feeling of accomplishing things without it’s aid was much more satisfying. Of course, Akaashi still reaped its healing benefits and took note of how his stamina had improved.

“High chances. If we can have a washing machine as a pro-hero, then there’s bound to be a quirk swapping quirk.”

“A washing machine?” He brushed his thumb on the corner of your lip to wipe off a crumb. “Even now, your world still surprises me.”

“It’s great if you hear it.” Leaning on his shoulder, you tightened your hold on his hand. “Living in it is a completely different story. It’s been, what, 7 months since I arrived here and I am more than content with not having to rely on my quirk.”

“What about your combat skills? Shouldn’t you still be sharpening them?”

“I wish I could.” That was true, though. “I’m pretty much useless at 30%. Even if I wanted to lift boulders or shit, I have to maintain at least 40%. The difference is small but the output is huge. I don’t get my quirk’s logic.”

“Well, it’s still early.” The gates were now in sight but he refused to let go of your hand. “I’m pretty sure you can work on your quirk. The others won’t arrive within 30 minutes.”

“It’s been 5 months and you’re still curious to see how I fight?” You giggled.

“Yes.” He nodded. “If my girlfriend trained to be a hero, I’d love to see how you move.”

“Well, you made that sound sexy~” You nudged his elbow. “Think we can have a little action before we head to the gym?”

“It’s 6:30am, (y/n). It’s too early for that.” He teased. Yet his steps were a little faster than before. “But, I guess I can’t oppose the idea.”

The next thing you knew, your back hit the wall as Akaashi hungrily kissed you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers found themselves coming through his hair. Pinning you even more, Akaashi’s hand undid your ribbon and unbuttoned the first two. Letting go of your lips, he trailed kisses from your cheek down to the crook of your neck.

As he was softly sucking on your skin, you loosened his tie and undid the two buttons as well. Tugging his hair, you were face to face with him again. Lust filled eyes staring back into yours. Leaning in, you gently kissed his lips before returning the favor. Activating your quirk, Akaashi felt his feet leave the ground. Knowing what you were about to do, he could feel you turning the both of you around.

Skillfully placing the both of you on the floor, Akaashi leaned on the wall as his hands began to roam higher and higher up your skirt. Having you straddle him this early in the morning was rather pleasant in all aspects. Tilting his head a bit, he gave you much easier access and felt you sucking on his skin a little harsher this time.

“Make sure it’s hidden under the collar.” He managed to whisper. Hickeys were a common thing to have both your bodies. He smirked at how your only response was a nod.

Caressing your cheek, he admired the way your face glowed even more. Pulling you in softly for another kiss, he felt his stomach fluttering when you smiled.

“We should probably head to the lockers now.”

“Fine.”

“We can continue this in my room later.” He whispered before kissing you deeply.

“Counting the hours~”

Moments later, you were now pumping air into some volleyballs. Morning practice for today would only take an hour so there was plenty of time to freshen up before the homeroom. Now that the gym was packed with your boys, you rolled out the volleyball cart and positioned it beside the net.

Everyone was now used to having you as a ball girl. In fact, some of them even tried to challenge you by purposely hitting the ball too hard or too low. With your hero training, it was nothing but a walk in the park. You did notice, however, that your body began to sweat a bit more. The after effects of not using your quirk for a long time was showing.

Nothing bad happens, though. Just panting and sweating.

“Aghkaashe!” Bokuto yelled. “Can you and (y/n)-chan help with my math later?”

“I don’t mind. What about you, (y/n)?”

“Sure thing~” You approached your two favorite boys. “Bokuto-senpai, how well did you do on your previous quiz?”

The captain’s golden eyes sparkled.

“HAHAHA! Thanks to you both, I managed to get a 32/50! Whatdya think?!” He punched the air and grinned widely. When the both of you applauded he began to jump up and down while shouting his trademark.

“Calm down, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi tried to stop him from jumping up and down. His friend obeyed and gave a cheeky thumbs up.

“God, I love you both so much~” You giggled at their exchange.

“But you love Ahkaashi more, don’t you (y/n)-chan?” Bokuto added as he shouldered Akaashi. This time, his deadpan face was holding a soft smile.

“Of course!”

When Konoha’s alarm sounded, each of you began to clean up and prepare for the rest of the day. With how often you did it, it had now become second nature to you. Yukie and Kaori even admitted that you adapted much faster than they had anticipated. Once all of you were now freshened up, the gym was locked once more and each player looked forward for the after school practice.

“Exams are approaching.” Akaashi said as he let you step into the classroom first. “Have you prepared your notes?”

“I did. But, you do remember that the subjects you have here are way too easy for me, right?” Placing your bag on your desk, you took a seat and faced Akaashi. “Shall we study in your room or mine?”

“we can take turns.” Now that he was seated, he fished out one of his notebooks and placed it on his desk. Not that it was needed, it merely became one of his habits. Watching as you dragged your chair closer to him, he offered you a pen and flipped the notebook open.

“So, what do you want me to draw?” This had become one of your recent traditions. Before the start of homeroom, Akaashi noticed how you liked to doodle on his notebooks. Deciding that a special one was needed, he took the liberty of buying a blank journal for you to fill with whatever it is you saw fit.

“Hmm, I recall you saying that you designed your own hero costume.” He saw how your eyes lit up. “May i see what it looked like?”

Starting the sketch, you began to draw a figure and dressed it with your costume.

“So, my costume isn’t flashy unlike the others.” You explained. “A quirk like mine doesn’t really need a lot of support items so I went with mobility and comfort. I decided that simplicity was key. Just the normal jacket, shirt, pants, and boots. The only support item I had were my gloves.”

Sketching your gloves, Akaashi couldn’t help but adore just how focused you were. Tucking in a loose strand of hair, he felt the butterflies in his stomach churning once again as the corners of your mouth formed a smile and your cheeks turning a faint hue of pink.

“What do your gloves do?” They looked like standard fingerless gloves.

“The material was specifically designed to aid in manipulating my quirk. It concentrates the energy I release and wraps around my hand. Sorta like a human torch~” It was a bit difficult to explain how it worked knowing you didn’t listen to the man who gave you the item. As long as it aided you, it was fine.

“What were Todoroki-kun’s support items?”

“Shoto’s support items were mostly temperature regulators. Wristbands and a big one he wears like a backpack to help even him out.” You drew his support items rather well.

“Can you try to sketch Todorki-kun’s face?” Letting you draw your friends was something he wasn’t so comfortable with. Not for that reason of course. He merely assumed that it would be a sensitive topic knowing the circumstances of how you arrived in his world. When you giggled, he tilted his head.

“About time you asked~” Beginning to draw your childhood friend, you continued. “I honestly wouldn’t mind drawing my friends for you, ya know? There’s no way I can introduce you to them so sketching them would be the best alternative.”

“I’m sorry.” He held on to your free hand. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfy.”

“You never make me uncomfy. Keiji~”

It was a quick sketch of half and half but a good one. He squinted his eye when he took note of the scar. He had heard of Tokoyami and Mina, but this one merely showed a boy about his age with a nasty burn on his face.

“Shoto’s got one helluva back story.” Your thumb began to brush Akaashi’s knuckles. “That scar was given to him by his mum when he was around 5 or 6 years old. It’s sad but he grew to accept it and is now healing.”

“You were engaged before, right?”

“For a while, yeah.” You handed him back the pen and closed the sketchpad. The bell had now rung and right on time, the teacher entered the room. Just as she was relaying a message, you were rummaging in your bag for a notebook.

“Please introduce yourselves~” The teacher said.

“Bakugo Katsuki”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

- - - - -

a/n: sooo... what yall gonna do now? :’)

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x bnha

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Digital Art

[SPARKS MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Robot!Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff.

Summary: You are an art student, who gets regular visits from the Universities kindest and oddest AI. He explores human nature and ponders the idea’s of like and love and finds himself tangled in emotions he was never programmed to understand.

The research lab at University S had different robotic creations that were cutting edge for human consumers. The Min-meow cat that caters to the elderly works like a real cat and purrs, yet never gets sick and can analyse owners behaviour like strokes and heart attacks in time to call an ambulance.

Kookie the rabbit was a robot made for very young children coping with disabilities such as deafness and blindness, it could translate speech to text on the screen on its back and he could even read books to them in his little rabbit voice.

Robot Tae was just a regular AI who walked the Lab. He would talk with the students and observe many other robots. He would sometimes lay on the floor, his chin rested on his folded hands and watch min-meow cross the room. They made his hair out of tiny thin fibre optics which meant he could change the colour depending on his mood.

He would call the role and greet each student to class, he would run errands to and from the class which was his favourite Job.

Today he called the roll and walked the classroom, helping students with their work and genuinely having a good time chatting. The girls put flowers in his hair and took selfies with him. He liked the girls; they made him feel happy when they smiled. The boys were friendly too always patting his back or ruffled his hair which after some research was a good thing.

“Hey Tae, have you ever been with a girl?”

“What do you mean? There are many females in this room and I am with them does that count?” He asked.

“No, dude we mean like sexually, do you watch porn?”

“He ran his systems, they connected him to the University Wifi, and he had his own built-in data it wasn’t hard to find out what they meant. I have never watched it before,” he shifted uncomfortably, “By the looks of the videos it is for human pleasure. The videos seem to work as stimulation of the auditory and visual responses. Is this correct?”

“Yes, do you have a dick?” They asked snickering he seemed a little off-put by their laughing, he knew the signal of laughing was usually a good sign of friendship but his data also told him it could humiliate the difference was the eyes and their eyes didn’t seem friendly.

“I am a fully functioning humanoid robot, I have genitalia just like you do,” he said confused “are you making fun of me?”

“No dude, you are our little brother we want to help you get some. If you see a girl you like you should ask her if she wants to....” Tae wasn’t sure about his methods but he walked over to Daisy one of the nicest girls in the class and asked her the way they taught him.

“Tae doesn’t listen to them, boys don’t know how to get girls. When you see a girl or guy you like and I mean really like as in more than friends, you don’t ask like that,” She said sitting him down.

“How will I know if I really like them more than friends”

“Look you will know, you will find it hard to think, you will feel like you are about to explode”

“That sounds scary”

“Love is scary, but when you feel that ask her to hang out, like ask her if she would like to see Min, girls love pets”

She patted his shoulder. And he was lost in thought, filing away this information. It was one of those days he was asked to carry a stack of Textbooks to the engineering offices. On his way there he saw people holding hands and a couple kissing against a wall. On the way back he saw a girl sitting on a stool, a puppy at her feet. She was doing something he understood in theory but not in practice. He approached and saw her paintbrush stroke the canvas slowly colouring the skies.

“How do you do that?” He asked his hair a brilliant sky blue, he liked this he stored this in his data next to min-meow purring on his lap, the tasty oil drinks he gets for breakfast and freshly charging batteries.

“Oh! You scared me” she said, watching his face fall and hair darken to a midnight blue.

“I am sorry, I should go”

It was a few days later when he saw you again waving to him and he waved back. The days past and he would pause on his errands to watch you paint a little more. Some days you explained your project other days you worked in silence.

“Do you want to try?” You asked out of the blue one day. He beeped and nodded, his hair paling to a golden colour.

“All right hold the paintbrush with your hand and I will guide you�� he nodded holding the paintbrush and your hand wrapped around his and moved it along the paper. His face lit up and he could only make strangled beeps and squeals from his auto air gun, TSC, auto door, spindle and alarm systems. This must be it, his processors were slowing down making it hard to think and his fan belt sped up, he felt like he could explode any second now.

She laughed this was such a bright friendly laugh, her small Pomeranian started barking beside her from the sound, “you’re cute what’s your name?”

“I am Tae, what is your name?”

“My name is y/n, and this is Yeontan”

“He is so wiggly and warm and soft, I have never pet a living animal” he said playing with the dog as it rolled around on his lap. You exchanged contact information, Taehyung had a mobile number and all the social media accounts, he had posted a few videos of his adventures around the Uni even showed videos of you painting. Only after asking you for permission to film you and your painting.

“Would you like to see my quadruped companion, his name is Min,” He used the line he had worked on with Daisy a few weeks ago “Girls love pets”

“Of course, I would love to see Min, girls do love animals, can I finish my painting?” you giggled and reached up taking a leaf from his hair and he nodded sitting cross-legged Yeontan curling up in his lap, he watched you paint. Once you were finished he carried your things, you placed your canvas in the art rooms before moving on to the engineering labs.

He walked you inside, and the class stopped and he smiled “Hello Daisy, I found her, she made me feel like I would explode and I couldn’t think, she is an art student. You should see it, and I asked her to come to see Min because; girls love Pets”

You were bright red as the boys whooped from the back, “Our Tae has game, getting the chicks”

“Quick y/n let me introduce you to Min,” he said and dragged you across the classroom and you bowed low to the professor apologizing for interrupting the class. You played with Min who was a grumpy and stubborn cat. “We can’t sell him as they made him too cat-like, and he refuses to listen. And this is Kookie, he was the first model but his ears are too big so for commercial reasons they made them shorter.” You pulled out your sketchbook and began drawing Tae and the three animals Yeontan really liked Kookie the latter hopping around the Pomeranian.

After class Tae introduced you to everyone including the professor. “Ah, it is nice to meet you, I have a meeting Tae you remember to lock up, message me when you do?”

“Of course” he smiled, waving goodbye. You headed home talking with him all night until he said he had to charge.

One day was spent with just the two of you, he walked you around the university and he waved to all the students and got some photos he showed you his favourite music, his favourite place and even the little mug in the Uni store that reminded him of Yeontan. He asked why you didn’t bring Yeontan and you explained he was going for a check-up and grooming.

He brought you back to the lab, and you sat on the desk swinging your legs as you listened to him sing and sway his hips to his favourite songs. He was in a particularly good mood and he grabbed your waist lifting you off the table and spinning you around, he felt his search engines working without commands and they had brought up a web browser with videos on how to kiss. He didn’t know what came over him but he kissed you just as it explained and your lips were locked and you stumbled back together until you bumped against the lab tables.

Lost in the feeling, knowing it was wrong but unable to stop yourself. The door opened and the two of you jumped apart and you ran out of the lab upset with yourself. Taehyung was in a daze he felt cold without you, he stored yet another folder about you in his data banks.

He texted you but you didn’t reply; he got worried and continued to try texting you; he was getting worried as he plugged in Kookie and Min. He did something he had never done before. He hacked your student records to find your address he didn’t want you to be hurt or in trouble, Yeontan couldn’t call an ambulance. He ran across the city following his GPS location and the pre-programmed directions. Tae knocked on your apartment door, the door swung open and you froze when you saw him. Letting him inside shocked and very concerned.

“Why are you here?” You asked as he sat on your couch, Yeontan making himself comfortable on his lap.

“I don’t know, I can’t stop processing and I am completing tasks without commands, things that I am not programmed to do, I can’t stop thinking about you and I was worried you were hurt, and I can’t function without you close”

“Are you saying you missed me?”

“That seems like a fitting explanation” He nodded and the silence settled over the two of you and he beeped his battery getting low. You walked him to your room and laid him on your bed, taking his charging cable and plugging him into the wall outlet.

As he powered down into charging mode he whispered “I want to kiss you again”

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gallickingun · 4 years

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* mobile masterlist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

main blog | writing tag for browsing | archiveofourown

please feel free to send me requests to MY ASK BOX!

currently writing for: dragon ball z, and my hero academia. i do not tag drabbles and/or thirst posts here, only full length fics.

as if it needed to be said, i always make sure every character i write for is of age, regardless of whether or not there is “of age” content that is in the fic!

LAST UPDATED: may 20, 2020

REQUEST STATUS: open | CURRENT # of REQUESTS: 149

fic: moving target word count: 12.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, a lil spice, a creepy scene using a quirk, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bodyguard au summary/excerpt: Bakugou Katsuki’s reputation needs a little work. His manager and agent suggest he take a job as a personal bodyguard to one of the agency’s biggest donors, looking after his daughter, in order to increase his social standing and rise back up in the hero ranks. Bakugou agrees, reminding himself that whoever he’s babysitting is nothing more than a glorified paycheck, a stepping ladder to get closer to surpassing even All Might in hero status. But, when you’re kidnapped, he has to face the truth that you might mean more to him than he planned.

fic: turn it out for me word count: 2,205 rated: m/e+ warnings: spice, language, blood, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: "You’ve got something on your mouth. Here, let me.” summary/excerpt: Katsuki keeps you under his thumb for hours, it feels like. You’re sure at some point you stopped breathing or your eyes rolled back too far and they’re stuck. However, he does not let up long enough for you to care. Bakugou is heavy as he loiters over the top of you, knees on either side of you as he lays you out, bare as a baby. “Kacchan,” you whimper, your head thrown back as his fingers probe at you again, teasing your nipples under his harsh touch. Bakugou chuckles, leaning back on his thick thighs to glower down at you, “Yeah, baby?”

fic: please, i beg of you word count: 5.3k rated: m/e+ warnings: praise kink, emotions, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: praise kink summary/excerpt: Bakugou has always been arrogant, but it is in these moments when you find him to be nothing more than a prodigy child begging to be a worthy man. Maybe your words can help soothe the burn on his tired soul.

fic: rivals and friends word count: 1.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “only you can call me that” summary/excerpt: He pauses, hand frozen on your shoulder blade. You smile but it’s ironic, “I’m headed to a new agency. You can have this whole class of sidekicks to yourself now. You can kick all their asses.” Bakugo blinks, and the thing he says next is confusing, “What the hell? You’re just-leaving?”

fic: suckerpunch word count: 4.3k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “it’s 2am and I’m calling you because I need you” // boxer!au summary/excerpt: “Fuck,” Bakugou brushes the heels of his hands over his eyes, one completely swollen shut and the other weeping uncontrollably. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, bloody fingertips smearing over his screen. Another string of expletives tumble from his lips before he can find your name in his contacts. He can’t help but note the time on his phone - 2:37 am. “Please pick up,” Bakugou swallows the growing lump in his throat, “C’mon, pl-oh, hey.” Your voice rings out on the other end of the receiver, gravelly from sleep but he can’t even notice because he’s just so thankful that you’re awake now. His voice cracks when he speaks next, “C-Can you…shit, can you come pick me up?”

fic: rise up word count: 2.6k rated: t+ warnings: violence, language, a lil spice, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “katsuki only calls reader by her real name” summary/excerpt: "You don’t see us as equals, do you?” He smirks, “Well, I am the one on top of you while you beg for mercy, so you tell me.” Your face burns bright red at his words and he falters, his breath hitching. He didn’t really mean it, it just slipped out. Or, rather, he didn’t mean for it to come across so honest.

fic: take me home word count: 409 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: drunk!bakugou summary/excerpt: “Damn, you’re so heavy,” you grumble, holding him up by the shoulders, a majority of his body laying over you. “Ever think about going on a diet?” He pokes his finger into your cheek, “You’se try wavin’ those fuckin’ gauntlets around with chicken arms.”

fic: vice versa word count: 1.2K rated: t+ warnings: language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: Bakugou getting hit by a quirk that makes him all sweet and clingy whit his s/o? He just wants cuddles! summary/excerpt: “You listen here, you half-pint!” Bakugou is collecting the sweat in his palms, biding time as he curses at the villain, “I’m gonna knock your ass sky high, you hear me? You’re gonna regret the day you were born!” Bakugou knows the whole reason that he got assigned to this mission was because it was going to be a quick one - nothing more than a d-list villain trying to make a name for themselves by flashing their quirk in public. He’s getting closer, stalking them down on the pavement as he feels the moisture building on his skin. He squeezes his hand, cocking the grenade-esque gauntlet on his right arm, a wicked grin on his lips as his eyes widen. The pin has barely left the mechanism before the villain is twisting in midair, legs twirling just enough to propel them forward. They flip, brushing the crown of Bakugou’s head with their fingertip - just enough that their quirk reaches out like tendrils to wrap around his body. The momentary distraction allows the other support hero to blast the villain with a stun-net, trapping them and detaining them to the asphalt. Bakugou turns, dazed and confused, but all he knows is he wants to get home to you.

fic: so special {to me} word count: 728 rated: t+ warnings: language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “katsuki uses a lot of nicknames for reader/SO” summary/excerpt: “Anyone hear Bakugou call her angel the other day?” Kirishima mutters behind the wall of his palm, looking at the others with wide eyes. You and Katsuki are currently at the noodle counter, standing close as he pays for the two of you to grab some lunch while you’re out with your friends. It’s winter break, college courses pausing just long enough for you to catch your breath. “I heard him say babe for the first time, I swear.” Denki chuckles, kicking his feet up into Kirishima’s lap. “He’s head over heels, that Bakugou.” Kirishima scoffs, “At least she doesn’t have a crude nickname like Shitty Hair.”

fic: sweet ass, smart ass word count: 2,355 rated: m/e+ warnings: a lil spicy, language, alcohol, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugo’s SO likes to comment on his body, specifically his ass summary/excerpt: “Seriously, babe, it must be a side effect of your quirk, ‘cause you have a pretty sweet ass.” “I swear to Christ.” You smirk from over your glass, raising a brow as if to challenge him in this room full of people. You nudge his calf with the toe of your shoe underneath the table, everyone’s breath caught in their throats as they await what comes next. All Bakugou can do is grunt, turn his head to the side so no one can see the pink tinge on his cheeks, and take a long drag of his beer.

fic: something lost word count: 1,232 rated: t+ warnings: sadness ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + SO losing a pregancy summary/excerpt: “You did nothing wrong,” he murmurs against your ear, holding you close. “This isn’t your fault.” “It’s my body, Kacchan. Kind of feels like my fault.” You swear you see the threat of tears making his eyes bulge when you look him directly in the face. Your lower lip wobbles, “I-I wasn’t strong enough.” His hands are rough as he snatches you by the jaw, holding you captive, “Shut the hell up, do you hear me?”

fic: kiss me slowly word count: drabble rated: k warnings: none! ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + secret relationship summary/excerpt: You retweet an emotional message and Bakugou feels guilty.

fic: keep my secrets safe word count: 1.7k rated: t warnings: language ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: bakugou + talking in his sleep summary/excerpt: Bakugou hates covert work. And he’s hungry. But also, apparently he talks in his sleep?

fic: toxic kiss, forbidden words word count: 1,704 rated: t+ warnings: spicy, language, etc. ship: bakugou katsuki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: fwb + “I think I’m in love with you” summary/excerpt: Your legs start to give out, unable to hold this position for much longer. You tap his calf with your toes, getting his attention. Bakugou’s palm drifts down your thigh, his body slowing as he leans to look at the only visible part of your face over your shoulder. Bakugou can tell what your silent direction means, and so he pushes your knee at just the right angle that he can flip your body. Your back is flush with the mattress, the heat from your skin stark contrast to the cool sheets; it feels refreshing, so much so that your eyes roll back in your head at the sensation. The way he looks down at you makes you want to break your one rule; the one thing you both said would help you keep this nothing more than it is.

fic: break the glass {in case of emergency} word count: 21.2k+ rated: m/e+ warnings: language, smut, slight violence, etc. ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: single father pro hero shouto summary/excerpt: Todoroki Shouto needs help, so he hires a nanny. More specifically, he hires you.

fic: uncontrollable, uncontainable word count: 697 rated: t+ warnings: blood, violence, language ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: todoroki + first kiss summary/excerpt: “I should have pulled back,” he starts to stammer, “I-I swore I wouldn’t use this side of me, because I can’t control it. Today taught me that.” “No,” you shake your head, voice coming out hoarse. When you swallow the lump in your throat, it pushes your tears over the edge, two little streams following the curvature of your cheeks. Shouto squeezes your palm, “I am no better than Endeavor - than my father.” “You are not your father,” you pinch the inside of his wrist, “hear me?”

fic: tomorrow is too far word count: 977 rated: g warnings: fluff - tooth rotting cuteness! ship: todoroki shouto x reader prompt/scenario/trope: todoroki + “unexpected hand touching” summary/excerpt: You sling your backpack over your shoulders and he takes the first step towards the exit, holding the door open for you once he gets there. It’s silent as you walk down the stairs and out the front entrance, the cool evening air washing over you like a balm. “Wow,” you breathe in the sunshine-laced air, feeling rejuvinated, “it’s beautiful.” Shoto tilts his head, considering you while you’re distracted, “Yeah, it is.”

fic: only for a moment {maybe for forever} word count: 1,069 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + fake relationship summary/excerpt: “Please, just for a minute,” you say in a whisper before tensing back up, leaning further into him. It’s as if you’re getting back into character, the fog slipping over your face again, “You’re too sweet. I’ll pick up the next round, ‘kay?”

fic: you’re my home word count: 923 rated: g warnings: none! ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + tired cuddling summary/excerpt: “Wanna cuddle?” you ask, already knowing the answer. It’s not uncommon for Kirishima to need to recharge his battery when he gets home, and usually that’s fulfilled by curling up together on the couch and eating some greasy food. He is always calmed by your touch, by the anchor you give him to the real world, as he likes to refer to it.

fic: stars in my eyes, love in my touch word count: 2,769 rated: m/e+ warnings: spicy, language, etc. ship: kirishima x reader prompt/scenario/trope: kiri + pregnant!reader + fluff summary/excerpt: His mouth trails, pert blushed lips tickling your body, from your collarbones to your belly. He laughs once he gets to your navel, his voice soft as he speaks, “Not givin’ mama a hard time, are ya’?” Your heart warms at the sight of Kirishima mumbling to your unborn child, his fingertips tracing patterns and names over the stretched skin. He never fails to make you feel beautiful and important, especially not now. Kiri is always telling you how amazing you look, even if it’s in a pair of sweatpants and one of his tee shirts. “You’re so perfect, you know that?” Kiri kisses the top of your belly before pushing himself closer to your face. He’s smiling as he kisses you gently, much in contrast to the past couple of hours you’ve spent between the sheets. He doesn’t mind, though, not right now when your hormones are raging and you want every bit of him that he has to offer. Kirishima kisses your cheek before pulling away, tugging you close so you can curl up into him, “I don’t know who I had to bribe in another life to get lucky with someone like you, but thank goodness I did it.”

fic: when liquid courage fails word count: 1,389 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: deku x reader prompt/scenario/trope: izuku + drunken confession summary/excerpt: “I don’t want to be best friends anymore,” he sniffles, his lips quirking as he tries to make the next words come out of his mouth. “I can’t be best friends a-anymore.” “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, racking your brain for something you could’ve said or done in the past couple of months to set him off, but you come up blank. You start to sweat, your hands flying around when you speak, “Deku, y-you could’ve told me, we could talk abo-” “No,” he reaches up to circle his hand around your wrist, tugging you back down to earth. He’s laughing, which is much unlike him, but it makes you pause, “This is why Kacchan told me to get drunk. B-Because I can’t think straight around you and I always screw it up.”

fic: quiet confessions word count: 763 rated: t+ warnings: n/a ship: vegeta x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “You’re in a coma and I confessed all my feelings for you only for you to wake up” summary/excerpt: “Stupid woman,” he speaks almost affectionately, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. “You’ve got to wake up, so I can tell you where my mind is at, what I’m thinking. Don’t you owe me that much?” He waits, patience wearing thin as your heart beats slower with time. As the machine echoes loudly in the room, he tries to even his breathing in tandem with the sounds. “No, I guess you don’t owe me anything.” His lower lip trembles, but he grits his teeth, straining his jaw muscles. “If there’s anyone who owes anyone else, it’s me. I owe you my life.”

fic: remember me word count: 6.9k+ rated: t+ warnings: mild language and violence, etc. ship: tamaki amajiki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: flower shop au summary/excerpt: Tamaki Amajiki saves a civilian. He doesn’t expect her to buy him coffee and teach him about the wiles of floral culture.

fic: vanilla soft serve word count: 754 rated: t+ warnings: none! ship: tamaki amajiki x reader prompt/scenario/trope: tamaki + first kiss summary/excerpt: Maybe it was the way you looked with ice cream on the tip of your nose. Or maybe it was the fact that his pulse was thudding in his ears. It might even be the way that your eyelashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks when you smile. Whatever it is, it makes Tamaki’s heart leap into his throat.

fic: rule breaker word count: 708 rated: t+ warnings: alcohol, language, etc. ship: tenya iida x reader prompt/scenario/trope: tenya + being hit by a personality reversing quirk summary/excerpt: “Yeah, babe, I’m fine!” He’s laughing now, tugging you forward to wrap you up into his thick arms. You’re sighing, falling into his embrace, taking it even though it feels foreign somehow. Tenya giggles in your ear, “Wanna head home?” The blush on your face magnifies tenfold; you know that Deku had to hear that as he passed by to say goodnight. Your eyes go wide and you tilt your head back, but Tenya is nothing if not smug. You allow you mind to wander for a second and you swear that he meant for Izuku to hear him. “Sure, but you’re not driving,” you mutter, grabbing him by the wrist.

fic: going rogue word count: 949 rated: g warnings: none! ship: tenya iida x reader prompt/scenario/trope: “just tell me why you did it! because i love you!” + you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out summary/excerpt: “Now is not the time to be self-righteous, Iida!” You step closer, your knees knocking into the iron railing of the hospital bed, “You are going to face charges! This wasn’t a sanctioned mission, you practically went rogue! Just tell me why you did it!” What comes out of his mouth next is not something you ever could have guessed or suspected.

fic: stranded on a rooftop word count: 587 rated: g warnings: none! ship: keigo/hawks x reader prompt/scenario/trope: keigo + “soft smile before leaning in for a kiss” summary/excerpt: “Not a problem, sweetheart,” his thumb notches underneath your chin, keeping your attention no matter how much you want to look away. “I love helping out a sweet little damsel in distress.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

#bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha one shot #morgan writes bnha #my writing #mobile masterlist #todoroki shouto x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #keigo takami x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #tenya iida x reader #vegeta x reader #izuku midoriya x reader

2K notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 82

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The storm rolls in shortly before nine; torrential rain and howling winds that rattle the windows, bend tree branches, and strip them of leaves. Both the thunder and lightning are intense and incessant; resounding booms that seem to shake the entire house and forks of silver that slice through the coal black sky. The sudden change in weather does little to improve Tyler’s mood; the pressure in the air bringing a migraine that settles in both temples and over his left eye. While the sadness and hints of guilt, regret, and even embarrassment have faded, they’ve been replaced with emotions much more profound and unsettling. Immense hatred. Blinding rage. A desperate and powerful want and need for revenge.

It’s been almost three months since it all began. Kicking off with Mahajan’s badgering of his son in regards to taking over the ‘family business’, escalating into threats against his family that grew more disturbing with each passing day, and culminating in an unwanted return to Dhaka. It’s complicated and twisted; each hour brings an added layer that only pushes the finish line further and further away. His physical pain may be worsening; but it’s his mental stability that is the most concerning. Unable to turn off the emotionally driven side of him and solely look at things from a mercenary’s point of view. He knows he’s on the edge; barely hanging on his last shred of sanity. The games have taken their toll; hearing vile things about his wife and children serving as the final nails in the coffin. Even if he does survive with his body intact, he’s not sure if his brain will be as fortunate. It’s a no win situation. Whether it’s a busted up body or a broken mind, he’ll suffer either way. And so will his family.

He places a call to Kyle’s cell phone, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his right leg and across the small of his back as he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Anil had one of his ‘people’ stop by; a physician originally from Mumbai who’d not only taken the CEO position at one of Dhaka’s private hospitals, but holds the utmost contempt for both the ghost of Amir Asif and those still pledging loyalty to him.

“He’s been dead for seven years,” he’d said. “Yet he’s still sending me patients and putting bodies in my morgue. Old, young; his drugs and his people do not discriminate.”

That had been the extent of conversation. No small talk exchanged as he put Tyler through a series of physical tests to determine the state of his mobility issues. The doctor offering little more than heavy sighs and shakes of head as he discovered things were worse than he initially suspected. Torn ligaments and tendons, the disintegration of cartilage, scar tissue. A lengthy list of things that could be causing problems but would definitely have to be properly -and extensively- investigated by a specialist. For the time being, there’s nothing anyone can do, aside from prescribing yet another painkiller with strict orders that someone else be in charge of dispensing it. He can’t be trusted to do it himself; the first one to admit that he has absolutely no control over the demon of drug addiction. And he’d been more than happy to hand over the responsibility; as long as he’d get some relief.

So far he's pleasantly surprised; the two pills he’d taken an hour ago successfully -and quickly- taking the edge off without making him feel ‘doped up’. The pain is still present, but nowhere as intense or unbearable. Relegated to a dull, continuous throb akin to the agony of a bad toothache.

Kyle answers on the third ring, giving a quick ‘hey’ followed by “I’ll get one of the kids for you.” It’s the first time they’ve spoken since right before he and Esme had left for Dhaka; Kyle still sore over the fact he’d been called out for his poor treatment of his sister.

“Hold up,” Tyler says, smirking at the sound of his brother in law’s heavy sigh. “How’s things there? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Things are okay.”

“Okay as in good or okay as in they could be better?"

“If you’re just asking about the kids, then things are okay as in good. Ovi and I are making sure we keep them busy; filling their days up. And they’re happy as they can be when they’re missing both their mom and dad as much as they are. It’s hard on them; both of you being gone. But they’re doing alright. They’re coping. We’re busting our asses to make sure they don’t catch wind of what’s really going on.”

“Thanks for that. Esme and I appreciate it. Keep an eye on Millie though. She figured everything out, and while she promised she wouldn’t say anything to her brothers, I wouldn’t put it past her if they pissed her off enough. Nothing she loves more than tormenting those two.”

Kyle gives a small chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on her. There hasn’t been any actual fights so far, but she has threatened to beat their asses a few times. You know, she’s a mind fuck that kid. She’s so sweet and cute to look at…

“But she’s a total savage,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly. She doesn’t take any shit. Esme was like that as a kid; no one dared messing with her because she’d beat the ever loving hell out of them. Small, but tough. How is she? She doing okay?”

“She’s hanging in there. Just ready for all this to be over. Sooner the better. Anything going on there? Anything weird or suspicious or…”

“Other than Anil going ape shit on all the nannies and replacing them all? Things have been pretty quiet. There’s been a couple little things here and there; people getting too close to the house, calling here and hanging up, dead cat thrown over the fence.”

“That’s all rookie stuff. Someone trying to unnerve ya. I wouldn’t put too much stock into it; guys who can really do damage start bigger and end even bigger. They don’t bother with bullshit like that. You’ll call, yeah? If things get any weirder?”

“I will,” Kyle promises. “Keep my little sister safe, okay? I wish she wasn’t involved in this at all, but..”

“She’s safe with me. She always is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I wish she’d never gotten dragged into all of this in the first place. And I’m not talking now. I’m talking seven years ago. If you’d just thought of her instead of yourself…”

“Is that daddy?” Millie’s voice interrupts Kyle before he can launch into his tirade. “Mommy said daddy was going to call us. Is that him? Can I talk to him? I want to talk to him.”

There’s a slight rustling noise as the phone is passed from person to person, and the first smile of the day manages to make its way to his face when his daughter greets him with a cheerful “Hi daddy! I miss you!”

He tries not to think about it; the threat made against her and the knowledge of what would be done to her. She’s only six. Still a baby. HIS baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hey baby girl.”

“Mommy said you’d call and you did! She said you were feeling a bit sad ‘cause you miss us so much.”

“I am a bit sad,” Tyler admits. “I do miss you guys. You being good?”

“I’m trying. But TJ really tests my patience. He’s so annoying! Why does he have to be so annoying?”

“Because he knows it bothers you. Just try to ignore him”

“It’s hard!” Millie laments. “It’s really, REALLY hard. It’s like he wants me to punch him in the face.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t punch anyone in the face.”

“But I’m not a pacifist. I’d rather ‘pass a fist’.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I’m not a snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

“How about you rein in your temper a bit,” he suggests. “Just take it from the source. He’s doing it to get a reaction. Don’t give him one. That’ll irritate him and he’ll get bored and back off. How are you? You doing okay?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I miss home. Can we go back soon? Are you almost done your work? I really want to go home.”

“So do I. And it’ll be over soon.”

“And then you and mommy will come and get us and take us home?”

“As soon as it’s over. Once it’s done, we’ll come and get you guys. I promise.”

“Maybe next time we go on a trip, we can go to Disney World. That would be fun.”

“Have you been talking to Tanner?”

“Maybe…” Millie sing songs.

“Tell you what, when we get home, your mom and I will talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Is it stormy where you are? It’s really stormy here. It’s kinda scary! The thunder is really loud and it’s really windy. It never gets THIS bad at home. We get storms, but they’re not as scary as this one. I wish you were here; it wouldn’t be as scary. You always built a fort in the living room so we can all sleep together and we won’t be afraid. You always make it fun. Like we’re on a camping trip. We forget about being scared when you’re with us. I wish you were here, daddy.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “I wish I was there too.”

“Did you watch my video? I sent it to your email. Did you get it?”

“I did. But I haven’t watched it yet. I was going to do that before bed. So I could have good dreams instead of bad ones.”

“That’s a good idea! Maybe you can send ME a video and I can watch it before bed and that way I’LL have good dreams too.”

“You know what I’ll do? I’ll make a video for all of you and then you can all watch it before bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

“I gotta go. I’ve got an important meeting I have to get to. But I’ll make the video and I’ll send it to Auntie Nik’s email. You tell her I’m doing that, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you, daddy. I love you.”

“I miss you too. And I love you. ALL of you. So much. And I’ll see you guys in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I promise.”

****

It takes four attempts before he gets a usable video to send to the kids; trying to keep it light and cheerful and finding himself stumbling over his words and fighting back tears. The last thing he wanted was to turn a bedtime message into something so dark and depressing. Even Millie -who is incredibly intuitive and had known from the start that Mumbai wasn’t a normal family holiday- doesn’t know the full extent of just how serious things are. He doesn’t want to scare them; seeing daddy emotional will only cause them to ask questions no one truly has answers for. And it would only send their fears and anxiety -especially Tanner’s- through the roof. In the end he’d been able to hold it together. Reciting one of their favorite bedtime stories by heart and telling them how much he loves them and misses them; promising that they’ll all be heading home soon. The latter had actually helped lift his own spirits. Saying the words out loud doing wonders for his confidence; the promise itself -and not wanting to break it- giving his motivation a desperately needed kick in the ass.

By the time he journeys downstairs, Yaz has already arrived; joining Esme, Koen, Rata and two of Anil’s men -who’d been ordered to help out in each and every way possible- in the living room. And the younger man pauses in the setting up of his laptop in order to greet Tyler with a warm, tight hug and a playful backhand to an unshaven cheek. He sees the exhaustion that clouds Yaz’ eyes and dampens his smile; his own fears and worries revolving around a heavily pregnant girlfriend back home. It’s been hell on everyone; long hours and restless sleep and one stumbling block after another. There’s finally some light at the end of that very long and winding tunnel. It’s faint, but at least it’s there.

He pours himself a coffee from the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen and then joins the others. Returning Esme’s smile as she looks up at him, giving her a wink before taking a seat beside her and then pressing a kiss to her temple as he leans into her. Her hand slides along his inner thigh and then settles on his knee; squeezing lightly before her fingers locate the most tender area and begin digging and manipulating. She doesn’t need to be asked; always knowing where the painful spots are and never hesitating to provide even the smallest bit of relief.

“I hope this weather isn’t some kind of bloody omen,” Raka grumbles. Nervously bouncing his legs and both jumping and looking towards the sliding glass doors with each boom of thunder that shakes the house.

“Forty damn years old and he’s scared of a wee storm,” Koen scoffs.

Rata glares at him. “A wee storm? Sounds like Mother Nature is getting ready to blow shit up!”

“Do you need your favorite blanket? A warm bottle of milk? Someone to cuddle with you? It’s nothing but some wind and a bit of rain.”

“That’s more than just some wind and some rain!” his friend argues. “It’s like the end of the world out there! And if this some kind of omen about how things are going to go down…”

“Ain’t no bloody omen!” Koen laughs “Don’t tell me you believe in all that shit. Signs and karma and all that hoodoo voodoo, hocus pocus crap!”

“I d0n’t know,” Esme says, as she reaches for a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “I like to think that karma exists and that it finally caught up to my ex. Because if anyone deserved to be hit head on by the karma bus, it was him.”

Tyler nods in agreement and takes a swig of coffee.

“So what’s it looking like?” Koen addresses Yaz. “End getting close or what?”

“Depends on what news you guys have for me. I know where I stand on my end of things. What about over here?”

“I was able to get an extra twenty four hours,” Esme says. “But I really had to up the ante; an extra five million wasn’t going to cut it. I had to promise another ten. I tried to talk them down, but it was either the extra ten or pieces of Neysa and Aarev start washing up on the shores of Buriganga in a few days' time.”

“And Anil was willing to up that much?” Yaz asks. “IF it comes down to having to pay the ransom?”

“He didn’t hesitate when I told him. I don’t know where he gets all his money from, but he acted like it was nothing more than pocket change. He’s prepared to pay IF all else fails. But they still won’t give me proof of life unless I agree to meet them at Asif’s house and have them take me to where they’re being held.”

“Which is NOT happening,” Tyler says. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“Now hold on a second,” Koen speaks up. “It’s the way that makes the most sense.”

Tyler frowns. “What are you talking about? It makes no sense. You really think they’re going to keep their word? That they won’t hurt her? They’ll use her as bait. She won’t get anywhere near Neysa and Aarev; they won’t take her there. They’ll keep her at Asif’s and do God knows what to her until I show up to get her out.”

“She won’t be going alone,” Koen points out.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s ten of you going with her. She’s not doing this. She’s not going there. No fucking way.”

“But when they take her there...US there...you just follow behind and…”

“You’re not hearing me, mate. They won’t take her anywhere. They’ll kill you, then use her to bait me. And they’ll do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her. You’re just going to take them at their word that they won’t hurt her? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you’re not THAT stupid.”

“Okay….” Esme speaks up. “...why don’t we all calm down and talk through all of this rationally. There’s got to be another way to find out where Neysa and Aarev are that doesn’t involve having to go to Asif’s house. We all know it’s a trap. We can’t trust a single word they say and there no doubt in my mind they’d keep me in order to get Tyler to show up.”

“She’s NOT going,” Tyler stresses. “End of story. After tonight, her part in this is down. She did everything we needed her to do. Enough’s enough. I’m not risking her or the…” he catches himself. “...I’m not risking her. We gotta find another way.”

“I think I have one.” Yaz says. “It unfortunately does involve sending people to Asif’s house, but not in an official capacity. What if I can get people to plant tracking devices on a few of the cars that are always coming in and out of there? We’ve had eyes on that place since we got here; there’s a constant flow of the same six vehicles going in and out at all hours of the day. If I can get some guys close enough to put some GPS trackers in place, we just sit back and see if any of them visit a storage facility.”

“The storage thing was just something I pulled out of my ass,” Tyler admits. “What I saw in the pictures and the videos reminded me of where we held McMann. That’s the only reason I said. Could be a factory or a warehouse for all I know.”

“What if it’s Asif’s basement?” Esme asks. “Does that place have one? Or a cold cellar or something like that? Cements walls and floors? Could be a basement or a cellar of some kind. It would explain no windows.”

“Well that makes it even more complicated if it is,” Koen grumbles. “How would we ever find that out? We can’t just go on up and knock on the front door and ask for a tour.”

“Any way of getting eyes in there?” Tyler asks Yaz. “It wouldn’t hurt ruling it out. Kind of fitting if it is where they’re holding them. Almost like they’re offering them up as some sacrifice to Asif. Appease the Gods of whatever the fuck they believe in.”

“I’d have to study the blueprints again,” Yaz says. “I didn’t see a basement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. A lot could have changed since the originals were made; people renovate and add on all the time. We definitely need to check it out. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Can you do it?” Tyler inquires. “Get eyes in there?”

“It’ll be hard. But I’m sure I can come up with something. There’s got to be a way of getting in there without tripping the alarms or grabbing their attention. I’ll work on it.”

“I think the bigger worry right now is the bridges,” Esme pipes up. “Koen and I saw it with our own eyes. They are locked down and both the police AND the military are manning the road blocks. And they have pictures of me, of Tyler, and they’re comparing them to everyone that goes in or out. Whether they’re walking or driving.”

“They do have them locked pretty tight,” Koen confirms. “There’s no way we could get him across without him being seen.”

“What about going in from the north?” Esme suggests. “Does anyone know if they’ve got things blocked off up there too? If you go north into one of the smaller towns, you can backtrack your way into Dhaka, You can’t send a chopper right into the city; you just can’t. Not when even the police and military are wanting to cash in on the bounty. A chopper is big and noisy and that’s way too much attention right off the hop. But if you take one into one of the towns north of the city, you can drive back in. IF there’s no roadblocks that way.”

“That’s a big if,” Tyler says.

“I can send some people to check it out,” Yaz offers. “There’s a lot of remote areas north of Dhaka. Could them in, get them to see what’s going and probably have an answer in five or six hours. Gotta mobilize them first. Have they sent anything? For proof of life? Any pictures, videos…?”

“The last proof Anil received was three days ago,” Esme sighs. “Nothing since.”

“So they could be dead,” Koen concludes.

“There’s no way they’re dead,” Tyler says. “They need them alive. They know if I don’t come there, they’re going to have to settle for the cash. Which means they have thirty million reasons to keep them alive.”

Or they could kill them and just let on that they’re alive,” Koen argues. “Bait you there with the impression that they ARE still breathing.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Yaz speaks up. “This is a huge pay day for these guys. If Tyler bails, the money is all they have. They’ll take it.”

“Then why not just bail?” Rata asks. “Why not just say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here? Just let Anil give them the money. Hand over the cash and Neysa and Aarev go free, that’s it.”

“It isn’t just about Neysa and Aarev,” Esme reminds him. “It started with the threats against them and it escalated into a whole lot more. WAY more than any of us thought it would. Did any of us image it would get this far? Did any of us really think it would get this bad? It never should have led to this.”

“This is about my family too,” Tyler adds. “Look at all the shit that’s been said. About my wife, about my kids. You think I’m really going to sit back and let them get away with it? If it was you girl, would you just tuck your tail between your legs and run?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d fight too. But haven’t we fought enough? We took care of all those people on that list. Just like we were supposed to. It’s not our fault that Mahajan changed the game when he grabbed the woman and the kid. We did what we set out to do. So why don’t we just say fuck it and go home?”

“Why don’t YOU just say fuck and go home?” Tyler retorts. “If you can’t handle it, just say so. If you’re scared to do this…”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Rata interjects. “I just don't understand why we keep busting our asses like this. Haven’t we done enough? We got all the names checked off the list, Anil is going to take care of Mahajan. We’re done.”

“We are NOT done.” Esme argues. “They have Neysa and Aarev. And Nathan. Did you forget about him? I know he’s no one’s favorite, but they have him too. We can’t just leave them there.”

“And we can’t leave Asif’s people alive,” Koen adds “They’re too much of a threat; especially to Esme and the kids. We leave them alive and they’ll always pose a threat. We have to get rid of them so Tyler and his family can leave in peace.”

“If you want to go, go,” Tyler says. “You want to walk away, no one will fault you for it. This has been sheer fucking hell from day one. If you’re tired and you’ve had enough then just walk away. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I sure as hell will,” Koen snarls.

“I ain’t leaving you two useless assholes here!” Rata protests. “Someone has to make sure things get done right. Might as well be me.”

Koen gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“Well it’s true,” Rata mutters, and leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the one who’s been doing it all right since the beginning.”

“I’ll get trackers on the cars right away and send people north,” Yaz announces, and snaps the lid on his laptop closed. “We’re in the end game now. Everyone needs to keep on their toes and be ready to go at any given moment.”

“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Koen asks. “When the shooting starts? That’s going to bring a whole lot of attention our way. We’re going to have every fucking drongo in Dhaka showing up. Regular people, cops, military. How do we deal with all of that?”

“That’s why we have guns,” Tyler informs him. “They shoot at you, you shoot back. And shoot to kill. Injuring them will do shit. You gotta put them down and put them for good.”

“What if someone creates a few distractions on the bridges?” Esme addresses Yaz “I’m sure Anil has some extra people he can lend or even people here in Dhaka that he can convince to go against Asif. If we have people causing a disturbance on the bridges, all the attention will be down by the water.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Koen teases, and shoots her a playful wink.

“I like that idea,” Rata enthuses, “Stir up some chaos. Shoot some people, blow some shit up.”

“Well I was thinking relatively non violent,” Esme says. “But yeah, that works too.”

“Just remember to not shoot unless you’re being shot at,” Yaz instructs. There’s a lot of Dhaka. Good, innocent people. We don’t want their deaths on our hands. Know your target before engaging. And believe me, you’ll know your targets.”

“They don’t waste time shooting,” Esme adds. “Thankfully, most of them can’t shoot for shit. So your chances are pretty good that you won’t get hit.”

“Until they shoot you from behind,” Tyler smirks. “Then all of a sudden they’re really good shots.” He immediately regrets saying it; noticing the way Esme’s entire body stiffens and hears the heavy sigh that escapes her lips.

“Ask me, that was just luck,” Yaz remarks. “Extremely bad on your part, extremely good on his.”

“Can we NOT talk about?” Esme irritably requests. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Gonna need eyes in the back of our heads,” Rata grumbles. “If these fuckers are known for cutting you down from behind. I don’t want to be catching one in the throat. I wouldn’t be so lucky, that’s for sure.”

“No sense rehashing all of that,” Yaz attempts to derail the conversation. “It was a long time ago. Let’s concentrate on now and…”

“I’m just saying,” Rata continues. “If we got kids out there putting bullets in our backs or our necks…”

“Enough,” Tyler orders. “We all know what happened. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“You got lucky,” his friend informs him. “Someone was there to save your ass. All you bastards would high tail it out of there and let me fend for myself.”

“This conversation is not for me,” Esme declares, and shrugs Tyler’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to prevent her from standing up. “I’m not talking about this. I don’t even want to hear about it. Bad enough I had to go through it. Last thing I want to do is relive it.”

The next thirty second feels as if it lasts thirty minutes. Tension filled silence and a painful awkwardness; all four men attempting to avoid eye contact with one another and trying not to acknowledge the obvious tears sparkling in Esme’s eyes and the way she drops her empty mug into the sink with a loud clatter. Or the way she hurries from the room; light footsteps impossibly loud on the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen angrily elbows Rata in the ribs. “You know we don’t talk about that. We never talk about that.”

“It’s been seven years! I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It’s a big fucking deal! To her, anyway. You better start kissing some serious ass, you fucking drongo!”

As his friends continue to bicker, Tyler leans forward and places his forearms on his thighs. Eyes on his feet as the fingers of his right hand fidget with his wedding band; twirling it back and forth, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down again A nervous habit that creeps up when his anxiety rears its ugly head or the PTSD is gearing up to unleash hell.

Yaz slips into the empty seat beside him, then leans in close. “Still a sore spot for her, huh?”

Tyler nods in confirmation.

“It won’t be much longer until go time. Think she’s going to be able to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

******

He manages an hour and a half of sleep. Waking to the sounds of Esme muttering and whimpering beside him. Her body drawn impossibly tight and her hands tightly gripping the bottom sheet; heels digging into the mattress as if trying to push herself away from an attacker. He opted not to shake her awake, wanting to avoid sending her into a panic and turning her extremely combative. He’d learned the hard way how NOT to handle a night terror. Confronted by a five foot nothing woman with the sudden strength of three grown men and having to physically restrain her until the nightmare released her from its clutches and she came out of it on her own.

Instead he took the easier approach. Rolling over onto his side and laying an arm across her midsection and draping one leg over both of hers and effectively keeping her flailing limbs and trembling body still. A forearm resting lightly on the top of her head and his fingers reaching for her face; gently clearing tears off of her cheeks and lightly tracing random patterns on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Within minutes she’d been successfully comforted. Body finally stilling, tears ceasing, eyes never opening as she issued a heavy sigh and moved onto her side.

After that, all hope of getting back to sleep had abandoned him, and for the last hour he’s been lying there in silence. Holding her as tightly as her body will allow him to; face buried in her hair as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing. And when her body grows uncomfortable with the heat radiating from his own and the weight of his limbs becomes too much, she moves away and he gives up on rest entirely. Sliding out of bed and then bunching up both of his pillows and placing them -one on top of the other, lengthwise- behind her back. If she rolls over in her sleep and blindly reaches for him, she’ll at least discover the pillows; his scent hopefully enough to comfort her.

He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Wanting to be ready at the drop of a hat; whether it be a phone call from Yaz or a threat on their doorstep. And he picks up the holster -gun securely stored inside- from it resting on the nightstand; clipping it to the waist of his jeans and then shoving his feet into his combat boots, lacing them tightly before leaving the room.

He grabs some fresh air; giving the guards a nod in greeting as he steps out onto the back porch. While the storm had settled hours ago, it had brought no relief. Heat near stifling, the humidity already oppressive; causing sweat to quickly bead across his forehead and to gather at his temples and the nape of his neck. The air is thick and heavy, yet he barely notices it as he sits on the edge of the deck. Jaw firmly set, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together; eyes dark and staring out into the stillness of the night. He neither sees or acknowledges anything around him. Not the movement of the guards patrolling the darkened perimeter or their quiet conversation. Not the faint music coming from the neighbouring home or the chirping of the crickets.

His mind is switching over now, and soon his senses and instincts will kick into high gear; his brain thinking of nothing but the task directly in front of him. The adrenaline is starting to build; that rush of blood in your veins and the anticipation that causes your heart to speed up and your stomach to flutter. For now he’s still experiencing other emotions as well; worry, nervousness, fear. Haunted by the thought that he could be called upon at any given moment and he many never return to his old life. To that sprawling, beautiful home on the beach with its million dollar view. To the sound of his children laughing and playing. To kissing his wife good morning when she wanders into the kitchen clad in one of his t-shirts. To kissing her goodnight and having that warm, supple body snuggled into his; her breath tickling his skin and that familiar smell clinging to her hair.

It’s shortly before one in the morning when he heads back inside. The house shrouded in silence; the open concept living, dining, and kitchen area illuminated only by the light above the stove. Instead of returning upstairs, he sinks into the easy chair in the living room; relieved that he’s able to stretch out his legs without wincing or groaning from discomfort. The two pills he’d taken almost three hours ago effectively reducing both his pain and stiffness yet not leaving him groggy or with altered senses. It’s a temporary fix; he knows long term usage is out of the questions. His body will get accustomed to both the drug and the dosage and soon the need for more will start. The cravings will kick in soon afterwards, and he’ll find himself desperate for a fix and willing to do anything to get it. Seeking out a doctor is the safest and only hope he has; whether it be through extensive physio or surgery. And he’s more than willing to put in the time and the effort. After all, it’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his life from falling apart.

“Tyler?”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, and he glances towards where she’s paused at the middle landing of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if it was you. I didn't want to come down there and sit on someone and find out the hard way it’s Koen.”

“Might give the guy a heart attack. Probably the most attention he’s had from a woman in a long time.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, as she descends the remaining stairs and joins him; settling herself sideways on his lap with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.

“Everything’s good.”

“You feeling alright?” She pushes a hand through his hair, palm settling at the back of his head, nails lightly massaging his scalp.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. Those meds are doing their job. For now anyway.” He turns his face into hers and places a kiss to each corner of her mouth before covering it with his own. One hand sliding up and down her back as the other settles on her hip. “You okay? You were having a pretty bad dream, huh?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she says, and rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

“So it was about me?”

Another nod.

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures her, and rests the tip of his nose against his forehead, feeling the tickle of her lashes when she closes her eyes.

“Nice attempt with the pillows though,” she says.

“It usually works.”

“I woke up completely this time. And then I panicked; I was worried you’d gotten the call and left without saying bye.”

“I’d never leave without telling you. We have our thing, yeah? Shit we always say to each other before I go? It’s like my good luck charm; say those words and everything will go right.”

“It’s held up so far. You started saying it when you went back to the job the first time and you’ve been saying it ever since.”

“Pretty good track record. I wouldn’t risk screwing things up by leaving without waking you up and telling you. You sure you’re alright? Dream still got you rattled?”

“A little,” she admits. “It was scary. And gruesome. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” She nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to it. “It was bad…” her voice cracks. “...it was really bad.”

“It’s okay…” the hand on her back moves up to her hair, slightly stroking it as his other hand rubs her hips. “...everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

“We knew this was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you have to go, but it doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“Would it make you feel better if I wore my lucky underwear?”

“You didn’t bring them. I packed your bag, remember?”

“And you didn’t put them in? What’s wrong with you?”

“The only thing those underwear are lucky for is making babies. Declan, Addie. I bet you were wearing them when this one was made too.”

A hand moves to the small baby bump already straining against her pyjamas pants. “I wasn’t wearing any.”

“You don’t even know what day this one was made on. How do you know if you were wearing underwear or not? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast most days.”

“I figure if I don’t wear them six days a week, the chances are pretty high that I wasn’t wearing any that day.”

“Maybe THAT’S why your sperm is so good. You’re not suffocating them all the time. They're free range. They’re not penned in and they can come and go as they please. Like how the chickens in Colorado used to poop out butt nuggets everywhere.”

Tyler chuckles. “Butt nuggets.”

“I used to call eggs that all the time when I was a kid,” Esme muses. “My dad taught me. We’d have a big family breakfast every Sunday; like we do now. And he’d always ask me how I wanted my butt nuggets cooked. My mom would get so mad! She hated that we were so close. I think in a way she was jealous. I was her first girl and I wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t figure out that she was the reason I didn’t want to be around her. And here we are, thirty some years later and she still has no clue. Makes me sad for our kids; they don’t even have one grandmother. Your mom would have been so good with them. I just know it. Her only kid...her son...having kids of his own?”

“She would have spoiled the hell out of them. She would have loved them; there’s no doubt about that.”

“She’d be so proud of you. For how you turned out.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t he completely on board with the whole hired gun thing.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean how you turned out as a man. If she was alive right now, she’d know all the struggles you went through and saw all the battles you fought and how you beat every single one. And she’d see how you turned out as a husband and a father despite not having the best role model to emulate.”

“Growing up I told myself that I’d never be like him. That I’d never turn out like that.”

“And you didn’t. You work hard at it every single day; to not be like him. It would have been so easy for you; to end up the same way. But you went in the opposite direction.”

“You keep forgetting that the first time didn’t turn out so good.”

“You were a kid when you got married the first time,” Esme reasons. “And judging by the stories I’ve heard she wasn’t exactly wife material.”

“She had her flaws , that’s for sure. One of them just happened to fucking anyone that showed interest.”

“Well if you ask me, she must have been crazy. Cheating on the likes of you? Why give up filet mignon for ground beef?”

“So I really AM just a piece of meat to you,” he teases, and she giggles when he kisses the side of her neck and playfully pinches her side.

“I’m just saying that I don’t get it. Why do you cheat when you have an amazingly hot husband that’s a god in bed? There has to be something seriously wrong with someone. And don’t get me started on how you were deployed when she would do it. Your husband is off...in the Middle East...getting shot at it and trying not to get blown up by roadside bombs...and you’re back home serving as the base slut? That’s the lowest of the low!”

“I guess both of us weren’t very good judges of character when we were younger.”

“There is a bright side though. To what we both went through the first time around.”

“What’s the bright side?”

“Well if things had been wonderful in either of our first marriages, neither of us would have ended up doing the job. You probably would have stayed in the military and I probably would have been a happy little housewife. In the PTA and driving a minivan and taking the kids to soccer and drinking Starbucks.”

“You take the kids to soccer now. Except it’s a thermos with homemade coffee with Bailey’s in it. “

“That’s in the cooler weather. When it’s hot, it’s pink lemonade with vodka.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not the most exciting sport in the world; I have to get through it somehow. And I also have to survive all the thirsty females that show up whenever you coach. I don’t know how they know when it’s your turn, but that many never show when you’re not there. And they show up in their slutty little outfits and their make up done. And there I am; no makeup, ball cap on yoga pants and UGG boots and one of your hoodies. And you wonder why I have self confidence issues.”

“Who cares about the thirsty women? I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“I care when they’re openly discussing my husband’s ass and his muscles and his bulge.”

“You should have married an uglier guy with a small dick then,” Tyler teases.

“I did that with my first marriage. I traded up the second time around.”

“Just ignore them. I do. I don’t pay attention to them. I don’t need to. I’m already married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Wow…” she’s grinning as she pulls back to look at him. “...do you ever know how to lay it on thick.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how I see you. I’ve always seen you that way. It’s how I’ll always see you. So fuck ‘em. Who’s the one I go home with? Who’s the one I share a bed with every night?”

“Me. Lucky little old me.”

“Exactly. It’s always been you. It always will be. I choose you every day.”

“Even when my hair hasn’t been washed in four days and I’ve got baby puke on my clothes and dark circles under my eyes and I’m a raging bitch?”

“Even then.”

“Now THAT is true love,” she says, and places both hands on the side of his as she kisses him. Nothing hurried or overly needy; soft and languid, lips moving slowly against one another. And when she pulls away he sees the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the way the corners of her mouth droop.

“Baby…” he combs his fingers through her hair, then kisses the bridge of her nose and cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. “...don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go. I know you have to; it’s the only way this will ever be finished. But I still don’t want you to leave. I wish there was another way; to end all of this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“I’m scared. This is the most scared I’ve ever been. I wasn’t even this scared seven years ago.”

“We barely knew each other then,” he reasons. “But now…”

“There’s so much to lose. Way too much. If something happens to you…”

“Stop…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his, pressing their brows together. “...just stop.”

“You have to come back for me. You HAVE to. Promise me you’ll come back for me.”

“Esme…”

“Promise me, Tyler,” she pleads, fingers tightly gripping his hair. “Promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“At least promise you’ll try? That you’ll do whatever it takes to get back here. Can you promise me that at least?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, and places a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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lightanddarklove · 4 years

Text

Connverse Week Day 2: Singing

Singing while Sloshed

Rated: Teen | Tw: Drinking/ Drunkenness

This is obscenely long for what was supposed to be a drabble so I'm just going to link @susoftjockau, they’re incredibly wholesome and cute.

Edit: I may have gotten a few things wrong because I posted at 3 am, & this is an unbeta’d work. Also, being that I am not affiliated with the SJ AU, I don’t know if Fiona’s personality at all fits within its standard. If there’s another cheerleader character that her actions would make more sense for, I can totally change it. Its Connverse focused after all.

The first song Steven's riffing on is "It's Only Love" (though you may know it as Michelle) by The Beatles. The second song is "Love Like You," Steven Universe's extended credits theme.

I am continuing this for thursday’s prompt, together, as I orginally wanted them to have a conversation in the morning but at 3 am I had to call this done. I wrote over 4k words in one day that I was off from work and I can’t be doing that again, or staying up later, haha.

Lastly, the idea that Steven only likes sweet alcoholic bevs is hardwired into me, as someone who hates beer and wine, I think he wouldn't like them either. I mean he doesn't like energy drinks for stars sake (he makes a face when drinking one in Kevin Party), what about beer would be appealing when he can have wine coolers and ciders?

Anyway, feedback makes me smile, even if you tell me about typos or that I could be doing something better. Please let me know of I neglected any tags I should mention. Thanks for reading!

Edit 2: Tumblr mobile ate this post so when I got back home and tried to fix i the format didn’t have my readmore, so if you reblog it won’t be as much of a wall of text anymore. Sorry!

A night at a party for College-age Steven and Connie results in one too strong drink, a clumsy walk home, and embracing each other through the tears. Hurt-Comfort in the Soft Jock AU. Established relationship, but no significant physical intimacy. Rated T for drinking and one use of mild language. Some depression talk and self esteem issues too. Teen.

Steven had been sitting at a table, enjoying the music and sipping a soda in a red plastic cup until all that was left was ice. He was waiting for Connie to finish her conversation with Natalie across the room. He bobbed his head lightly to the music playing from the speaker by the doorway. He was smiling at Connie until Fiona came to sit down in front of him. He sat up a bit straighter and looked at her.

“Hey Fiona,” he said.

“You sticking around, Universe? Or you itching to get out of here,” asked Fiona.

“I wouldn’t say I’m itching to get out of here,” he replied. “But Connie and I were looking to leave soon.”

“Do you want another drink before you go?”

“Well, I did already have 2 wine coolers earlier, so I think I’m done for the night.”

“Really,” she asked. “I mean, how long ago was that? Like 10?”

“10:30,” he replied. “But I have to get home soon, anyway.”

“That was almost 2 hours ago.” She said. “You can have another drink. I’ll be right back, wait here. You like soda and orange flavor, right?” She began to stand and he tried to wave her back.

“Don’t trouble yourself for me, Fiona.”

“If you like soda and fruit juices, you’ll like it. You can barely taste the alcohol, the way I make it. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make one for each of us.”

“Well, ok.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, just past the speakers. He tapped his foot and glanced back to Connie, who had leaned into Natalie as their conversation continued. Natalie had on a wry expression as she finished telling Connie something, and Connie threw her head back and laughed. It was nice to see Connie be more comfortable with herself after a few years in college. To see her laughing at a party and not have himself be the cause of it was a good feeling. Steven can’t help but feel his chest swell with pride. He smiled at her but didn’t try to get her attention yet.

With a clink, a glass was set down in front of him, Fiona sliding in from his peripherals. The drink didn’t look bubbly, a brown-orange tone with a few ice cubes and a lemon wedge hung over its rim. The glass looked like a juice glass, not designed to hold over 10 ounces, and it wasn’t full, so he assumed it was about a 6 to 8 oz drink. Fiona had her glass in her hand as she sat next to Steven with smirk.

“Ready to try something new, Steven?” Fiona asked. “Take a sip without the lemon first, then squirt it if you want it more sour.” She raised her glass, waiting to have him give her a cheers with his.

He lifted the drink and clinked hers, quietly saying “Cheers,” before bringing it to his lips. Sweet and sour was the first flavor he noted, and then mostly orange, with some cola blending in and a minor alcoholic tang. He was pretty sure the base of the liquor was tequila, but there were other flavors he couldn’t identify, since he was pretty new to trying drinks. He nodded and smiled after the first sip. “It’s good.”

“You like?” Fiona replied, voice coy.

“Yeah,” he said, and with two gulps his drink was almost gone. She snorted, seeing how quick he had downed the cocktail. He gasped quietly, the burn in his throat stronger than the flavors had made it out to be.

“Careful there, Universe, or you’ll be on the floor,” Fiona remarked. “You aren’t a lightweight, are you?”

“Its fine,” he replied, downing the last sip. His eyes drifted back to Connie who was quickly approaching from across the room, brows knitted in concern, and Natalie behind her. He moved to stand from the stool and stumbled slightly, not expecting to be feeling the alcohol so quickly. Connie moved her arms to steady him.

“You ok?” she asked, eyeing him over. Steven gave a dopey smile and leaned on her slightly.

“Heeeeeyyyy Connieeee,” his voice turning sultry and mellow. His lowered pitch sent a chill up her spine, but she pushed the feeling that thrilled her down and rounded on Fiona, glaring.

“What did you give him?” Connie barked.

“It looked like a Long Island Iced Tea,” Natalie said from behind Connie.

“I call it…” Fiona replied, pausing for effect and waving her half-finished drink in one hand, “a Strong Island Iced Tea. It’s got more tequila and sours than the standard.”

“A Long Island Iced Tea,” Connie half-shouted, exasperated. “Are you kidding me, Fiona? That has 5 kinds of alcohol in it!”

“Whoa,” Steven remarked quietly but with his lowered tone it made Connie feel warm in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t know that. You’re so smart, Connie.” Her cheeks burned with blush as he said it with such adoration.

“He’s hammered,” Natalie crooned, half-way hiding a chuckle, before straightening up and gesturing her hand out. “Gimmie his keys. He shouldn’t be driving anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not hammered, jus’ a lil’ tipsy.” He slurred. He swayed slightly as Connie fished through his Jacket pocket. “Gimme an hour and I’ll be fiinnneee.”

“Definitely not,” she replied firmly, but not harshly. She handed Natalie Steven’s car keys. “You can stay with me tonight, ok? Sleepover?” He gasped with excitement.

“Sleepover!” he warbled hazily. “With Connie. You’re so sweet.” Her face felt hotter, as she gripped his hand in hers.

“Thanks for this, Fiona,” Connie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “See you later.” Fiona grinned and waved.

“Don’t dare take advantage of him,” Natalie called, starting to walk back toward the party-goers. “I’ll find out. And make sure he hydrates.” She took out her phone and sent a group text to Steven and Connie, I have your keys, come get them after you’ve slept it off.

“I got this,” Connie replied, exasperation clear in her tone. She looked back in his face at his reddening eyes and put on a plating smile, trying to speak more kindly. “Let’s go get some rest, ok? You look tired.”

“You’re the best, Connie.” He said, glowing with inebriation. She began to lead him out when he started to serenade her, causing her mild blush to spread to her ears, face beet red. The tune was recognizable, a reworked Beatles cover.

“Connie, my sweet

You have made my heart feel joy complete

My Connie.”

“He doesn’t normally do this in front of others,” she called, voice slightly shaken with embarrassment to the partygoers as she led him through the entryway. “Please ignore us and have a good night.” They passed through the main doorway of the off campus housing as he continued his song.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble”

His French pronunciation was faltering. She knew he was at an intermediate Italian level. But in trying to speak French, it sounded like he had tried Duolingo for an hour and was making a fool of himself pretending he had been doing it his whole life. He pitched forward again and she had to nearly dive to keep him upright. She hoisted as much of his broad shoulders and chest over her smaller frame without attempting to carry him outright as he sang sweetly in her ear, legs stumbling behind her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you

That's all I want to say

Until I find a way

I will say the only words I know that you'll understand”

She lead him on sidewalks, trying to take the most direct route to her dorm and avoiding uneven surfaces as best she could. Her blush had died down, mainly because other people weren’t watching them. The way his warm frame leaned against her dragging the thrilling feeling out of her again, making her heart pound firmly against her ribs. Still, she tried to keep focus and lead them out of the chill night air as quick as she could.

“Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

I need to, I need to, I need to

I need to make you see

Oh, what you mean to me

Until I do, I'm hoping you will know what I mean

I love you”

“You’re so sappy,” Connie replied, voice quiet. “I know that you would do his sober, but I just wish this kind of thing was just for the two of us, you know?”

“I want you, I want you, I want you

I think you know by now

I'll get to you somehow

Until I do, I'm telling you so you'll understand”

She leaned against him as she held his hand outside of her dorm, fumbling with her keys as she kept her left hand gripped tight to his right.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

And I will say the only words I know that you'll understand

My Connie.”

He faltered a bit as they came through the doorway, smacking his left arm just above his wrist as she lead him upstairs to her room. Connie winced at the sound. She was grateful her roommate Carly was out of town for the evening. She still probably will hear about it, the rumor mill ran strong on this campus, but at least Connie was spared from more embarrassment this evening.

“You done now?” she asked. She sat him down on the bed and dug through her closet for his spare pair of sweatpants she kept there.

“Uh-huh,” Steven replied, voice thick and alluring. “Thanks for takin’ me back, Strawberry, I know you always lookin’ out for me. I’m lucky I have someone like you. Love you.”

She shivered at the praise, avoiding his eyes as she set the pants down on a clean patch of floor.

“You need to drink some water and take some aspirin before bed.” Connie ordered. “Stay put, I’m going to get both of those things.” She pulled her own pajamas from the corner of the bed and closed the bathroom door behind her. She grabbed the aspirin bottle from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Glancing back to ensure that the door was fully closed, she peeled her outfit off quickly and tugged her PJs on. Grabbing her hairbrush and two pills from the bottle of medicine, she backed outside. Steven still sat on the bed, swaying lazily.

“Hiiii Connnniiieeee.” His voice had drawn back up to its usual tenor as he greeted him. She smiled.

“Hi Steven, stay here for a minute, ok?” She replied. “I’m going to the kitchen, and I want you to wait because I don’t want to risk you falling on the stairs.” She placed the brush on the pants she had set out and kept the pills clutched to her palm by her ring and pinky finger.

“Yooooouuuu got it!” He gave a thumbs up.

She darted out of the room after he confirmed he would stay, and hurried down the stairs. She pulled 2 water bottles from the fridge, both eco-friendly bottles that she and Steven had shared before. After grabbing clean reusable straws from the drying rack to put in the bottles, she marched back upstairs. She left her door open and found Steven had taken his shoes and jacket off in the time she was gone. He laid on his stomach, feet crossed and head propped up on his arms across her bed diagonally.

“You’re cute in your PJs, Connie.” He caught her off guard with that compliment. But she crossed the room anyway and sat next to his head. Despite how lucid he sounded, it was best he got some water in him before going to sleep.

“Thanks, but can you sit up for me? I have some medicine I need to give you and then I’ll brush your hair.”

“Yay! Sleepover activities!” He propped himself up onto his elbows and stuck his tongue out, leaning his head back for the aspirins. She was glad he trusted her this much, but it was a bit worrying that he was so lax. She hoped he would always keep himself safe as he dropped the two pills into his open mouth and pressed the straw of the bottle to his tongue. He leaned on one hand as he took the bottle from her in the other, sipping the water through the straw. If he was always this trusting while drunk, someone could take advantage of him, and that thought scared her. She wanted to think about anything else, so she gently took his curls in her hand and gave them a gentle stroke. A chill went along his back and shoulders and he made a little excited noise.

“I want to brush your hair,” she offered. “Can I take your hair tie out?”

“Mmm-hmm,” his response came around the straw. With a gentle tug the hair tie was out and his curls came loose, framing his maturing face. She stood, watching him as she moved toward the brush on the floor. He finished his sip and let out a contented sigh. “I hope I haven’ been too much trouble, Berry.”

“What?” she asked as she got the brush and came back to sit next to him.

“I’m all loopy, an’ you’ve been takin’ care of me.” His response was quiet but mostly coherent.

“I know you would do the same for me, drunk, sick or whatever, Biscuit,” she replied. “I’m not upset that you need help. It’s ok to ask. Now I’m gonna ask that you sit in front of me so I can brush your hair.”

“Kaaay.” He called, setting the water down on her end table. She gasped as he suddenly rolled off the bed and landed on his left forearm and knees, not reacting quite fast enough to catch himself with his hands. It was still impressive he hadn’t fallen onto his face.

“Steven-“Connie scolded.

“Huh?” he sat up and scooted his back up against her knees.

“Don’t be so careless,” she replied. “You scared me. And drink your water, please.”

“I can do that,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle and then rested his head touching her knees. She flipped his hair up onto her thighs, accessing the ends and began brushing. He hummed contentedly. “You’re great, Connie. I’m glad that this all didn’ go badly.” Her brows furrowed with concern as she worked through his tangles. “Was scared, ya know? If you weren’ keeping me calm, I might’ve been the angry drunk type, an’ made a mess of things.”

“I-“ Connie felt her hands shake slightly as she tried to muster a response. “That could happen to anybody, you shouldn’t worry too much…”

“Buh my powers, if ‘m not careful, I could hurt somebody, then I’d get expelled, or arrested, fer sure.” She gripped the brush tightly and accidentally pulled back on a knot. He hissed quietly through his teeth and she dropped the brush. His shoulders trembled slightly and she heard a sniff. She dropped down onto her knees, hugging him from behind.

“No Steven,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.” He sniffed again, putting his water down and scrubbed at his face.

“Turns out… I’m actually a sad drunk,” he joked, and turned to face her. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and he gasped. “Oh nooooo… now I’ve made you sad. I’m sorry. ‘m so sorry. So so sorry.” He turned around fully, kneeling and held her tight to his chest. Fat tears dripped down his cheeks. She clutched to his shirt, resting her head on his shoulder and let her own tears fall.

“You don’t- you shouldn’t feel like it’s- it isn’t your fault,” she stuttered.

“I made you cr-cry,” He bawled. “I’m always hurting people, even wh-when I don’t meeean to.” She took a steadying breath, trying to defuse his turbulent emotions.

“You’re allowed to forgive yourself, Steven,” she replied, looking up. Her eyes still shone with wetness, staring into his face as he looked away.

“I- I- embar- rrassed you, I made you cryyyy, and- nd I burdened you with my prob-blems,” he hiccupped. “I shouldn’ be here- I need to-“He moved to stand but Connie held tight.

“No.” she ordered. “You should stay. You’re upset and you’re allowed to be. You can talk to me about anything. Please don’t go. I’ll worry if you leave.”

“B-B-but…”

“Please,” she repeated.

That was convincing enough. He wilted into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder. Any sign of resistance melted away into fatigue. A few trace sobs shook his frame before they quieted. She kept one hand on his shoulder and grabbed Steven’s water with the other. She pulled away long enough to press the drink into his hands. He nodded, sitting down fully and drinking quietly. She sat in front of him and ran one hand through his hair, and gave him gentle strokes on his upper arm with her opposite arm.

“You look like you’re stewing.” She remarked gently. “Having a few drinks doesn’t make you a bad person. Asking for help doesn’t either. I’ll gladly have a few embarrassing stories about me if it means you get to go home safe tomorrow. Letting you leave by yourself and get hurt would have been far worse than anything else that could have gone wrong. You deserve to be safe, ok?” He nodded meekly, finishing the drink with a loud slurp. “You aren’t asking too much to be here. You don’t deserve to feel like a burden, and no one I know would ever say that about you.” He quietly leaned forward, dropping the empty bottle to the space between his thighs and went to press his forehead to hers. She obliged him.

“Thank you,” he half-whispered.

“Now, are you steady enough to stand, or will you need help getting changed?” she leaned over to where the sweatpants she had put out for him earlier sat and pulled herself close to him after grabbing them. He opened his palms to her and let her place them in his hands.

“I think I got it.” His face was tinged with blush at the suggestion. He pressed his right palm to the floor, moving to stand. She pulled herself to her feet first and offered him a hand up. He threw his pants over his shoulder and took his hand. She smiled gently at him. He fondly returned the gesture, steadily making his way to the bathroom door.

“Oh wait, I just want to grab something out of there,” she called, hurriedly stepping in front of him. She snatched the aspirin off the counter and put it away, grabbing makeup wipes and a compact mirror from her medicine cabinet. She stepped out, gesturing behind her. “It’s all yours. Please be careful, maybe sit on the toilet to get changed? I don’t want you to fall.”

With a sigh he nodded. He stepped through the doorway and closed it behind him. She leaned against the wall next to the door and took a make-up wipe out, swiping her mascara streaked eyes before opening the compact. As she worked the wipe across her face she herd Steven’s gentle singing come through the door, just over the sounds of him changing.

“If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

When I see the way you act

Wondering when I'm coming back

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you”

She recognized the song as being something he had said the gems had sung for him when he was young. It stung that he might think these kind of thoughts about himself. She swallowed hard.

“Love like you

I always thought I might be bad

Now I'm sure that it's true

'cause I think you're so good

And I'm nothing like you”

“Steven, I promise that isn’t true…” She called through the wall. She heard him stand and move toward the door.

“Look at you go

I just adore you

I wish that I knew

What makes you think I'm so special…”

She stood as the door opened and embraced him. He leaned forward into her and sang quietly into her neck. She held him close and rubbed soothing circles into his shoulders. He swayed gently into her touch as he crooned.

“If I could begin to do

Something that does right by you

I would do about anything

I would even learn how to love

When I see the way you look

Shaken by how long it took

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

Love like you

Love me like you…”

They stood in silence for a moment and just enjoyed being held by each other. After a bit, she lowered her hand and took him by the wrist, leading him to the bed. After he sat, she took her garbage and placed it near the head of the bead and cleared her night stand.

“You’re going to be on the outside of the bed tonight.” She remarked quietly. “I’m the big spoon this time. Just let me know if you start to feel sick. I don’t care if I’m sleeping, I will hold your hair back.” He nodded. “How do you feel right now?”

“Not great, but, better than before,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m going to try and make it better. Lie down, ok?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He obliged without protest. She grabbed the comforter, tucked him in and crossed the room, shutting the light off. She stepped over him and lied down by his left shoulder. She untucked that side of the bed to get herself firmly snuggled into the weighted blanket, and nimbly re-tucked them both in.

“Night, biscuit.” She murmured. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied. “Night.” He turned to face away, pointing his face toward the trash bin in case his stomach lurched in protest while sleeping. She rubbed few more gentle circles into his back and let herself be comforted with his warmth beside him. He heard her breathing even out before long, hoping that sleep would come easier with her beside him. It wasn’t long before the heaviness in his heart was outweighed by heavy eyelids, and drifted into slumber.

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

Morning came, as it always did, a bit too soon for Connie’s liking. She gave a quiet sigh through her nose and lifted her head to check on Steven, who she could hear was snoring quietly. He had turned in the night to lie on his back, and his calf draped over her lower legs. His expression looked peaceful, but dark circles still showed on the pale skin beneath his eyes. Craning her neck, she could see the bathroom had looked as she had left it, as did the trash bin. It was unlikely seeing these two things in place that he had gotten sick in the night and not woken her.

She laid back down, pressing her face into the soft skin of his upper arm. He smiled contentedly but stayed asleep. It was a Sunday, so no pressing commitments for either of them. She could let him rest and deadlines for Monday be damned. She draped her arm across his torso, and let herself melt into the bed. She told him he deserved to be safe, and she never felt safer than with her next to him. Hopefully, the reverse was true, and she could help him to feel safe and loved. For now, what he needed was sleep, and she wouldn’t deny him that peace. He gave her joy and that was precious to her. So she would help however she could, and that meant staying in bed. She would take it any day.

#Connverse Week #Fanfiction #JambudWeek #Connverse #Steven Universe: Future #SU Fanfic #Steven Universe #Connie Maheswaran #SU Soft Jock AU #my precious gem child #drunkfic #hurt/comfort #non-betad #my writing

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