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saekkas · 1 year

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𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒? 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘!

summary: in which you get sick and it's their job to take care of you.

includes: isagi, rin, kunigami, sae, reo, karasu, aiku, kaiser, bachira, nagi.

note: hi hellow i'm finally back from my week of tests! cheers to posting regularly (fingers crossed) <3

❥ HELICOPTER BOYFRIEND ALERT! he refuses to leave your side for anything. is hell-bent on smothering you in blankets and medicine! will also cook delicious homemade meals to help you get better.

which is what you've walked into this not-so-fine morning.

there are bundles of blankets on your shoulders, all in different colors, courtesy of your very sweet and very protective boyfriend. you're waddling from the bedroom, shoulders slumped under their weight and feet clad in hello panda socks, trying to reach the kitchen before he scolds you for leaving the bed.

he did that the last time you went to get a glass of water from the kitchen too.

the living room is a homey space that's been filled with pillows and a freshly scented humidifier that's been on 24/7 since you've caught the flu. peeking in, you see no signs of your boyfriend. shrugging to yourself at the lack of presence in the room, you continue your trek into the kitchen, stopping short when a familiar voice catches your ear.

leaning against the door that connects the kitchen to the living room, you listen with furrowed eyebrows as your boyfriend calmly speaks on his phone.

his voice is nothing short of sweet and respectful. you watch as he hums to himself, seemingly writing something on a piece of paper, before nodding to whoever's on the other side of the phone.

"yeah, i've bought that already." he hums as he continues scribbling with his pencil, "i've bought that too. is there anything else?"

"mushroom, salt, pepper, corn, chicken meat, eggs. is there anything else?"

the exchange lasts a few minutes at most, but you can't fight off the smile growing on your lips at the sight.

"no, mum. she doesn't have a fever. she has a cough and her nose is red from sniffling and blowing into a tissue all day but she's fine," he hums to his mother on the phone.

your eyes widen in surprise as you've finally realized who he's calling. your heart beats faster in your chest and a small giggle makes its way from your lips as you continue to listen in on their conversation.

"she's eating well. she should be better if-"

his eyes snap towards you at the sound of your giggle before he sends you a look of exasperation which has you giggling even more. he motions for you to come to his side with his fingers and when you do, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

"-sorry, mum. i caught a peeping tom," he says into the phone before quirking an eyebrow at you, a frown on his lips. "as i was saying, she'd be better already if she'd actually stay in bed and sleep like i told her to."

he says the last part with a gentle poke to your side and he smiles at the laugh it brings.

"yeah, she's right here."

you watch as he wraps a hand around your waist, pulling you into his arms. he looks at the guilty smile you send him, and chuckles with a shake of his head.

"mum wants to talk to you," he says after listening to his mother talk. he leans in to press another kiss onto your forehead before pressing speaker. "you can talk now, mum."

the smile on your face only grows when his mother wishes you a quick recovery, and to listen to her son's words. you say goodbye to her when he ends the call.

"your mum's so sweet," you say as he pockets his phone. giving him a smile, you lean forward to wrap your hands behind his neck. "what did you call her for?"

he focuses his attention back to you, placing the sheet of paper on the counter. "i needed a family recipe," he says as a hand stays around your waist, the other checking your temperature. "mum has a special soup for coughs and the flu."

"i can't believe you called your mum for me," you say with a teasing smile as you lay your head on his chest. "that's so sweet of you."

"now that you know," he quirks an eyebrow at you, looking at the multiple blankets around your shoulders. "what are you doing here? i told you to stay in bed. to sleep."

"i'm sorry," you say with a guilty smile, pressing a kiss on his cheek to smooth the frown on his lips. "i got thirsty."

it's silent for a few seconds before it's broken by the sound of your squeal moments later. he places one hand behind your feet and the other on your back, intent on carrying you back to the bedroom.

"hey!" you protest as you squirm in his arms. "i didn't even get to drink yet!"

he looks down at you with a frown, proving a point by handing you a two-litter water bottle for you to hold.

you watch with a pout as he makes his way back to the bedroom, softly placing you in the middle of the bed before standing back up with an expectant look on his face.

"anything else?" he asks with a quirked eyebrow and amusement clear on his features. "or will you finally go to sleep?"

"can i help you cook?" you ask with a hopeful grin.

he sends you a look, shaking his head with a chuckle before leaning down to rewrap the blankets around your body. "sleep," he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "i'll be back with the soup, then we can do something fun."

he leans against the door, awaiting your answer with an expectant look on his face that you can't say no to.

"good girl," he nods in content at your answer, happy that you're finally listening to him. he sends you a sweet smile, his eyes softening as you continue to stare at him. "sweet dreams, precious."

it's hours later when you wake, head on his lap with his hand in your hair. and it's only then that he hand-feeds you his mother's special soup along with sweet kisses to make sure you have a speedy recovery.

isagi, rin, kunigami, seo, SAE (believe when i tell you that i would sacrifice anything for this to happen to me. because i would).

❥ TEASES YOU FOR CATCHING GERMS when in reality, he's dying on the inside from worrying over your state. is the type to not really know what to do, constantly in a state of panic. will call all over to ask for advice which results in him getting 91829272 brands of chicken soup and medicine from the convenient store.

the day has been nothing but brutal on you. a killer headache, scratchy throat, and a fever? this nightmare seems to be never-ending. to top it all off, your boyfriend's been teasing you all day long for catching a virus. you've had enough of him as you both stand under the same umbrella, waiting for the bus to arrive as it's raining cats and dogs.

"seriously," he says with cocky tone and a nudge to your shoulder. "if you don't start taking care of yourself, you'll be walking like a grandma by the time you're 25."

"gee, thanks." you roll your eyes at his teasing remarks, sniffling as the cold sends a shiver down your spine. "you sure know how to treat a sick person," your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

"no problem, babe," he chuckles as the bus comes to a stop in front of you. his grip on your wrist is warm and comforting, and he only moves to take your hand in his. "c'mon. this is our bus."

you let him lead you inside, swaying on your feet as your skull throbs from the headache. sniffling, you come to a stop behind him, staring at the elderly couple as they get off from their seats. you sit beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder as the bus starts to move.

"you can go home first," he says in a low tone, being considerate of your state. "i've got something i need to do first then i'll drop by."

your eyebrows furrow in confusion at his words. as far as you know, there isn't practice after school, and he's been intent on coming over to your apartment to study.

"okay," you shake away any other thoughts and nod limply against his shoulder. "i'll wait for you to come back before studying."

"how considerate of you," he chuckles as he pats your head, smoothing his thumb across your forehead to help soothe your discomfort.

the ride home isn't long. the bus is quiet; not many passengers are on, and their chatter is muted. you start to make your way into dreamland, his shoulder the perfect pillow and his warmth the coziest blanket.

"hey," he whispers as he nudges you awake. "you're almost at your stop. you need to get up, baby."

"right," you grumble as your eyes start to open, shaking off the sleepiness as a yawn tumbles out of your lips. "c'mon, we should wait by the door."

he sends you an apologetic look, shaking his head. "i'm not getting out just yet, babe. my stop's the next one." he still has your hand in his, thumb still rubbing gentle circles on the skin. "i'll wait with you by the door though."

still in the haze of sleep, you nod as you rub a hand across your eye. you wait until he stands before following him, your hands still intertwined. he leaves a kiss on the crown of your head, along with his umbrella, waving as you get off.

trudging against the rain, umbrella in hand, you walk the short path back to your apartment. pressing the code and sniffling as you do, you whisper a small i'm home into the empty space.

you've only finished preparing two cups of hot chocolate and a plethora of snacks when the doorbell rings, his image flashing on the monitor. opening the door, you're about to sniffle a small hey but all that comes out is a gasp.

"why the hell are you wet?!" you gasp at your boyfriend's appearance, sopping wet from top to bottom with his hair plastered onto his forehead.

"i gave you the umbrella, remember?" he chuckles with a teasing wink. "don't tell me your memory is starting to become like a grandma's too. besides, it isn't so bad."

frowning at his words, you're quick to run into the bathroom, taking along 2 towels with you. "i didn't think it was the only umbrella we had. you should've brought it with you." pausing for a second, you tilt your head with a question, "where did you go anyway?"

"and let you walk home in the rain?" he scoffs, ducking behind the door to pick up three paper bags. "not a chance, babe."

you eye the bags, recognizing the symbol from your local supermarket's. moving to the side, you try to take one of them but he's quick to dodge your advances.

"i- uh- i went to the supermarket." he nods down towards the bags, taking the towels from you to dry his hair. "went to buy you some medicine and soup. to kill the germs and all that."

he stops his movements at one point as he runs a hand on the back of his neck. "didn't know which one to get. everyone i called recommended different things so i bought all of 'em."

raising your eyebrows at the sweetness of his gesture, you chuckle before pushing him into the bathroom. "go shower. i made some hot chocolate before you got here, so we can have that after."

"with marshmallows and chocolate syrup?" he asks with wide eyes, smirking when you nod your head yes. "that's my girl."

you both didn't do any studying that night. intent on feeding each other soup and taking turns sipping the hot chocolate, you end up in his arms. "don't every get sick ever again, you hear me?" he threatens with a sleepy yawn as he presses you deeper into his chest, nuzzling into your hair. "i was about to die, thinking you were dying."

you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

karasu, aiku.

❥ A KISS A DAY KEEPS THE DOCTOR AWAY is what he says when you tell him that you're sick. is the type of boyfriend to become whinier and touchier, laying in bed all day asking you to cuddle him as if he's the who one who's sick and not the other way around.

"c'mon," he whines, tugging at your sweater as you head towards the soccer field. today's practice is a simple one; a match against the rival team to gauge each players' readiness for the real match. you're only here because he insisted you come watch. "we do this before every match. you can't deny me, my good luck charm."

"no." you groan for the umpteenth time that day, insistent on refusing him because of your cold. "i told you. i can't kiss you today. besides, your talent and hard work are enough to get you through this play. even without my kisses."

"i won't get sick," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes, ignoring your last statement. "one kiss won't get me sick."

"well, i don't care if it's one kiss or a hundred. i'm not kissing you because you have a big game next week, and i will not jeopardize your play by accidentally passing on the flu to you."

"fine," he huffs with an annoyed pout on his lips. one you are dying to kiss off, after you get better. "i'm blaming you if we lose this play."

you sigh as he grumpily stalks off to the field, leaving you to sit on the bleachers all on your lonesome.

"see, i told you. you don't need my kisses to win." after three rounds and a win, you finally get to say it to his face. with a smug smile on your face, you watch as your boyfriend packs his things, ready to go home after a day on the field.

"whatever," he grumbles, still pouty, and visibly upset. he swings his bag onto his shoulder, extending his hand for you to take. "please tell me that i still get my victory cuddles, at least."

taking his hand, you walk side by side.

he glances at you from the corner of his eyes before directly looking at you, placing his chin on your shoulder. "i still get them," he says with his cutest puppy eyes and pout, "right?"

biting your lip, you will yourself not to fall into his trap. "i'm sorry," you say as you shake your head. "no cuddles until i'm better too."

"evil." he shakes his head, lifting his chin off your shoulder to look at the street ahead. "you're plain evil. you know i can't survive without your kisses and cuddles."

"it's just for a few days." you sigh as you squeeze his hand, stopping to wait for the red light. "then you can have as many as you want. promise."

"you saw how draining practice was," he huffs, eyes stubbornly set on the ongoing traffic, showing his dislike at your current predicament. "i need to recharge with your cuddles."

he tugs your hand when the traffic light turns red, pushing you into the inner part of the sidewalk. "i want them now," he says with another pout before stopping altogether, pointing at your shoes. "your laces are untied."

"huh?" you look down but before you know it, your view's been blocked by the top of his head as he squats to re tie the laces.

"you're so clumsy," he admonishes with a grumble. "what if i'm not here, and you trip?" he then grins to himself as an idea comes to mind.

"that has never happened before and you know it."

tying your laces, he sighs dramatically before standing up, right in front of your face. he's quick in his movements, taking your chin in hand, he presses a peck on your lips.

his face is filled by beaming happiness. his eyes are squinted, his lips spread wide in a grin, and it takes everything in you to not pull him into another kiss because right now? you should be mad.

"you know what? whatever." you groan, lifting your hand in exasperation as you walk in the direction of your houses, intent on letting him walk alone. "you can only blame yourself if you get sick."

he's next to you in a second, his expression still joyful, as he practically walks with a skip in his step. he presses kisses onto every layer of your exposed skin, starting from your forehead and ending with the knuckles on your hand. you bite your lip at how adorable he is, content with his affection.

"just you wait and see," he says in a sing-song voice as he moves in to press another kiss on your lips. "i'll prove you wrong."

"whatever you say then," you mumble as you eye the convenient store right at the corner of the street. "can we stop by first? i need to buy-"

"there's no need." he interrupts your words, fishing his hand into his bag before pulling out a set of painkillers and medicine. "i've got them right here."

you say nothing as you tackle him into a hug, pressing kisses onto his face with a lovestruck smile on yours.

"heh," he says, face flushing at your sudden display of affection. "i should surprise you more often."

as a reward for buying you medicine, and for not kissing him before his match, you let him cuddle and kiss you for the rest of the day with no complaints.

the next day, you laugh in his face when he calls to tell you that he has a cold, snickering an i told you so when you go to take care of your big whiny baby.

KAISER, bachira, nagi (with less dramatics and energy).

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andypantsx3 · 1 year

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fingerprints | 8 | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 3.3k of est. 37k words | 8th of 9 chapters

summary: When you’re outed as pro hero Shouto’s soulmate on national television, there are really only two sensible things for you to do: blame someone else and run.

tags/warnings: romance, soulmate au, fluff, pining, not actually unrequited love, aged up characters, eventual smut

Cooking with Shouto turned out to be a disaster.

Though armed with a coherent recipe and what were ostensibly all the correct ingredients, what you produced barely met the metric for edibility.

Shouto, for his part, chopped ingredients as though he had never once encountered terminology such as careful and uniform, producing an array of sliced vegetables whose size varied from microscopic to nearly fist-sized. He looked so handsomely put out when you set upon him to correct his work that you had to smother a laugh into the collar of your sweater for risk of offending him further.

You, however, did not actually fare much better. Ordinarily you were a passable cook, nowhere near gifted but not quite helpless either. But the sight of Todoroki Shouto in your kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows and a little pout on his mouth as he concentrated, was way too distracting for you.

You missed entire steps in the recipe, only to have to circle back later, and the amount of time your eyes spent glued to Shouto’s firm biceps as he chopped meant you also missed huge swathes of time, leading to a slightly-burnt tasting sauce and overdone chicken.

Shouto made things even worse by consulting his phone, murmuring directions in his mind-numbingly low tone, so gentle and hypnotic that you forgot to listen to the actual steps.

In the end, though, it didn’t even matter. You were so pleased to just be with him, in the same space, doing something distracting together.

You loved the way he took up space in your peripheral, his broad shoulders making the kitchen seem smaller than it was. You loved the scrunch on his nose when he concentrated particularly hard, the way his elegant fingers curled around the handle of the knife, the way he’d lean in close to you to get something at your side.

He was such good, easy company, and it made you fall even more helplessly in love with him than you already were.

The two of you ate stuffed together at your coffee table, reaping the inedibility that you had sown, but you found yourself too satisfied to care. Shouto, too, did not look like he minded much that whatever you made probably in no way approximated the recipe Fuyumi had given him.

When it was finally time for him to go, Shouto leaned in and drew you into another hug, pressing you tightly against him once again.

It made your head swim with all of the questions that were beginning to crop up about this new phase of your relationship. About what it meant that you’d been exposed, and things were only going to get more public from here. About what it meant that Shouto was getting notably free with your person. About what it meant that he’d bought you a property for your animal rescue, and had roped his own mother into helping him fund it for you.

None of those things had seemed at all possible just twenty-four hours ago—and yet here you were, a publicly-recognizable, thoroughly-hugged future owner of an animal rescue.

Shouto left with a final press of his fingers to the skin of your hand, watching raptly as the color flooded your skin. He leveled a kneecap-shattering smile at you, and promised to see you soon.

And then he left you alone, feeling better, but with about a zillion more questions than you’d had to start with.

The ensuing weeks only made things more confusing.

You were mostly confined to your apartment as the Todoroki Agency did its level best to combat the rampant speculation on your identity and the nature of your relationship to Shouto. The tack they seemed to be taking so far was that Yoshizuki Ayumi’s speculations were intended specifically to hype up sales of her book, and were not grounded in any true knowledge of who Shouto had come into contact with that day.

Shouto’s terrifying manager was in the news daily, running circles around the press in her little pearl set and tight ponytail. You knew it was only a matter of time until the truth was fully revealed, and you’d have been more sorry to her if Shouto hadn’t sent you a litany of texts implying she was having the time of her life cooking and eating reporters for breakfast.

Shouto continued to text you updates from his patrols, pictures of things he’d seen, lunches he’d eaten, cats he’d rescued from trees. He called you after every shift, sometimes directly after, and you’d hear the unbuckling of his uniform in the background, the rustle of cloth as it slid off him.

Those phone calls gave heart palpitations of the worst sort, though not as bad as when Shouto himself turned up at your apartment, greeting the rotation of heroes who’d taken to guarding your neighborhood. You met an entire slew of heroes you’d only ever heard of—Mudman, Lizardy, and most excitingly, Cellophane, all of whom you learned had been Shouto’s classmates at UA.

You spent your free hours consolidating your rescue funding plan, and working with a contact Shouto had provided on the plans to remodel the building he’d purchased. You tried to keep costs down, already overwhelmed by the amount of debt you were in to him, but Shouto seemed to have stipulated to the contractor that no dollar amounts were to be provided to you.

You reamed him out over text once you’d figured it out, only to be immediately steamrolled into silence by a selfie of Shouto with Princess, her cream-and-orange face pressed contentedly up against his inhumanly handsome one. Your mind blanked once confronted with that kind of cuteness, and you couldn’t think of a single thing to text back that wouldn’t give away how horrifyingly whipped you were.

Shouto was notably smug the next time you saw him.

You also worked up the nerve to start cold-calling possible donors to the rescue, armed with an opening date and operational model. You registered for non-profit status, drowning in heaps of government paperwork. You posted job listings for volunteers and full-timers, and reached out to Mari to gauge her interest. Handed in my 2 weeks!!, she texted you immediately.

You set up an accounting system and budget, a mission statement, and got in touch with every kennel, shelter, and veterinary office within thirty kilometers, alerting them to the impending opening of your rescue, your policies, and your capacity.

It was unbelievable that you were finally getting to do the thing you had always wanted to do, and that Todoroki Shouto—your soulmate—had made it happen for you.

And that left you with the final, most dizzying question of your relationship to him.

Because Shouto was being confusing as hell.

It still needled you, weeks into these new developments, that everything Shouto was doing for you was too much. It was absolutely beyond what a normal friend would do for someone, even if that friend was as rich and well-known as Shouto was. Opening an animal rescue on someone’s behalf itself was huge, and possibly within the bounds of platonicness and professionalism if you squinted. Maybe.

But Shouto was in touch so constantly that you wondered how he had time for anyone else. The end-of-shift calls were long, sometimes taking you both hours into the evening as you chatted idly while you cooked, while you cleaned, while Shouto played with Princess. When he spoke, he mentioned time with his mother and sister and his friends, but nothing about time with Yaoyorozu Momo, and between all the time he spent on shift, sleeping, and speaking to you, you thought he had very little time left.

He was more forward than ever, too, sitting close whenever you were together, pressing his fingers to your skin in greeting or in parting. But he never made any particular move that might be construed as romantic—he never moved in to kiss you, even if sometimes (very privately) you thought he looked almost like he was waiting again.

You didn’t know what to make of it. All of it taken together–the gifts, the rescue, the time together, the personal space—it all seemed too unbelievable. You knew you were just an aggressively plain, average girl, and the daily tweets that were still flung your way confirmed that. But Shouto made you feel—made you feel—

He made you feel different. Special. Precious.

Confused as hell.

It was the impending release of Yoshizuki Ayumi’s book, however, that pushed things to a head. Though Shouto’s agency had been able to delay the book and cast doubt on Ayumi’s publicity efforts, there were no legal grounds on which the book might be stopped altogether. And you honestly didn’t think that would have been fair, even if there had been. Technically, she wasn’t wrong. And technically, you had thrown her under the bus first, all those months ago.

You didn’t like the thought of being publicly known.

But you had been able to avoid it long enough to get to know Shouto naturally, organically, peacefully, without any of the pressure of public opinion that might have otherwise altered the nature of your relationship, ambiguous as it was. And when you thought about it deeply enough, that’s all you really could have asked for.

It was roughly a week from the revised book release date when Shouto told you the agency would need to make a definitive statement once and for all. And then he shocked you.

“I will leave it up to you,” he told you, one evening in his living room, where he’d finally been able to smuggle you for a change of scenery.

Princess had seemed thrilled to see you when you’d arrived, surprisingly, almost twice the size of when you’d seen her last and looking more haughty and elegant than ever. She’d padded over to give you a greeting sniff, and had immediately seized the hem of your pants with her claws, a familiar routine. You’d sank onto Shouto’s couch and let her highness do her worst to the bottom of your jeans.

“You what?” you’d echoed, staring at him in the soft buttery light of his lamps.

Shouto watched you carefully, his handsome face solemn. “I have thought about it,” he said in his low, soft tone. It was gentler than ever, and yet strangely shuttered, as though he didn’t want to betray any of his own opinion in his voice.

“I will not pressure you to be my soulmate publicly,” he said. “There are options. If you wish it, I can tell the public we are not. I can tell them I am a donor to your rescue and our relationship is purely professional. I have discussed it with my manager. It would be feasible that we would have spoken in debriefs after the attack, and that I’d identified your rescue as a charitable cause for the agency to invest in.”

The idea of continued privacy was admittedly tempting, but you did not like the carefully blank look on Shouto’s face as he continued. “However, we would be watched after that. I…We would no longer be able to meet like this,” he said.

He paused a long time, before finally adding, “I would do it, if that was what you wanted. It will be…difficult for you, once you are known, you can never regain that privacy again. I do not want you to have to experience that.”

You sat there, shocked by the idea. You hated the idea of not getting to see Shouto like this anymore. Much as you’d resisted it at first, you loved the time spent with him–how easy, effortless, comfortable it was–yet heady, thrilling, exciting. He took up so much of your headspace every day, the person you wanted to run to with news, the person you wanted to turn to when things felt overwhelming. Even if he wasn’t in love with you the way you’d always wanted your soulmate to be, the thought of giving him up just like that was unbearable.

But you also couldn’t help but wonder, privately, if there was anything else that motivated Shouto’s saying so. You knew he cared for you—there could be no doubt, after everything these past few weeks—but if he really did have a girlfriend, if he really was committed to someone else, if you really could never fit into his life the way you had always wanted…

You didn’t know how to weigh it. Your privacy vs the uncertain balance of this soulmate relationship. Your disbelief that Shouto meant for you to feel as special as you sometimes did versus the unshakeable feeling that he did mean it.

You needed more time. More information. More perspective—

You wanted to choose Shouto. You knew you did. You just wanted to be sure that Shouto wanted you, more than anything, to choose him too.

There was one last thing you wanted to scope out, you thought, before you made the choice that would define your relationship forever. One last corner of his life that you hadn’t been directly privy to, to figure out how you would fit into it, and what his relationship was to everyone once and for all.

You summoned up the courage and turned to Shouto, as Princess victoriously tugged a thread free from your jeans, letting out an ugly yowl that nearly drowned out your next few words: “I think…Shouto, would it be okay if I met your friends?”

The former members of UA’s hero classes gathered biweekly at a dive bar downtown. Chargebolt and Red Riot had apparently picked it shortly after graduation for the central location and cheap drinks that paired well with a brand new pro hero’s meager starting wage.

Over the years, most everyone from Classes A and B had rocketed their way up the ranks, but they had become so accustomed to and so unreasonably fond of the place, that it was still their go-to meeting spot almost a decade onwards. It certainly looked divey from the window, dark and dim, decorated mainly in neon beer brand signs and crammed with cheap stools and tables bearing decades of scratches.

Despite its shabby appearance, your spine still prickled with nerves as you approached, Shouto a long, lean shadow beside you.

“What is it, love?” he asked, leaning in.

Your heartbeat kicked into your throat. He’d been calling you that so much lately—love—and every time it sent your head spinning. You really didn’t think it was all that platonic of a nickname, and it was just another reason you had to make sure this evening that Shouto really meant for you to choose him.

The back of his hand pressed to yours, and you gratefully seized it, shuffling a little nearer to him like you could absorb his calm demeanor if you were just close enough. Your whole body prickled with awareness of his hand in yours, those long, pretty fingers gripping you carefully. You didn’t look down, but you knew the pads of your fingers were leaving smudges of color all along each other’s skin.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you admitted. “I want to make a good impression.”

Shouto’s heterochromatic gaze picked over you carefully, and he bent his head to look you in the face. “You already have.”

You looked at him curiously, and he took a step forward, gently tugging you with him, steering you into the bar’s interior. You could have sworn you saw the tip of Shouto’s right ear go a little pink against the white of his hair.

“You were all the Class A group chat would talk about, when it first happened,” he said, his tone carefully blank. “Some of them quite liked that you made me give chase.” You thought if his tone wasn’t so meticulously devoid of emotion, he might sound like he was pouting.

“Hell fucking yeah we did, that was the funniest shit I had ever seen!” a bright voice chirped, and suddenly a wide smile and electric yellow hair were filling up your vision. “I’m Kaminari Denki,” the man introduced himself, and you realized you were speaking to pro hero Chargebolt. He appeared to be attempting to blind you with a million watt smile. “I’m a huge fan of the running.”

You took his proffered hand and gave your own name, unable to help laughing. “I didn’t really mean to leave him there like that. I just panicked.”

Kaminari’s smile widened and he was joined by Mina Ashido—pro hero Pinky—who grinned brightly at you too. “I think it did him a little good,” she whispered conspiratorially. “He’s never had to chase a girl in his life.”

Your face heated at the implication, and Shouto’s fingers tightened in yours almost possessively. Mina just looked at him and laughed, blowing him an apologetic kiss, and then turned and beckoned you over to the corner that Class A had taken over. They’d pushed several tables together and dragged over some stools from the bar, and a dozen members were already present, sipping beers, chatting and laughing, some of them waving invitingly.

Mina found you a seat between her and pro hero Cellophane—Sero Hanta, who you’d already met a few times on duty at your apartment, who fist-bumped you in greeting, smiling his huge toothy grin. Then he turned and fist-bumped Shouto, who looked long used to this treatment.

“Shouto, man, good to see you. Even better to see you, Y/N,” he said. He introduced you to the rest of the people at the table—which included some truly dizzying names, like Midoriya Izuku, the number one hero Deku, who smiled sweetly at you from beneath wild green curls, waving a heavily scarred hand.

It wasn’t even a minute before Mina was plonking some aggressively pink drink in front of you—”My favorite, trust me you will love it!”—and you were immediately absorbed into the group’s conversation, like you’d always been there.

They were a friendly, rowdy, extremely tight-knit bunch, as anyone would be, after all they’d been through together as a class. You were fascinated by the dynamic—Shouto was alternately roasted within an inch of his life and indulged as the baby of the group—all it took was a little pout from him and he instantly got whatever he wanted. You appreciated that you weren’t the only one who was helpless against him.

When Shouto ordered his first drink—something fruity, served in a voluptuously curvy poco grande and garnished with a rainbow of fruits and a little umbrella—Kaminari seemed to start down the well-worn grooves of an old conversation. “So secure in his masculinity,” he sighed as Shouto sipped, his long fingers toying with the pink umbrella. You stifled a fond smile in the collar of your jacket.

Mina kept you in a steady rotation of luridly-colored, juice-heavy drinks, all of which Shouto seemed to want a sip from, and you slowly relaxed into the ease of everyone’s company. You thought maybe you did have a place in Shouto’s life, could fill the space at his side, and it would be as easy as breathing.

You just needed to confirm one more thing.

You were on your third drink, beginning to smile a little bit goofily, when the door blew open and in walked the final piece of your mission this evening. She was tall, elegant, and as dangerously curved as Shouto’s poco grande glass had been, her hair pulled up in her iconic dark ponytail, swinging daintily.

Yaoyorozu Momo: pro hero Creati.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x you

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glacierclear · 7 months

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Can I... can I ask for some househusband Leon hcs?

alright. okay. we're gonna work with a few assumptions for these headcanons.

this all comes from the hypothetical of leon being fully retired from his line of work. he still has the same backstory, skillset, traumas, everything, it's just...now he's your loyal house husband!

cooking? this all depends on where he's at in life. mid-30s and onward? he's a chef. i don't believe he'd be terribly gourmet about it. you aren't coming home to a roasted duck served with a reduced wine glaze and a perfectly made risotto...but god. he can make some damn fine spaghetti. he'd likely shoot for simple dishes, with perhaps an added flair or two. homemade burgers. lots of steak dinners. he'd prefer anything that can be prepared with minimal mess. recipes that are made with one pot or one pan...a big hit for him. he is not a pretentious eater, and that would reflect in his cooking.

now, if we're talking early to late-20s leon? erm. well. let's just say he's learning. his transition from zombie apocalypse policeman to military meat shield didn't do much for his cooking skills. and a diet of MREs and scrounged up viper parts did even less. if post-re4 leon is your house husband you're gonna be eating a lot of questionable meals. he's not completely oblivious. he won't try and feed you absolute slop, but his abilities don't much exceed kraft mac and scrambled eggs. still! he's a domestic man now. plenty of free time to try out all sorts of new things in the kitchen! be on standby with a fire extinguisher when he decides 3am is a great time to make fried chicken from scratch!

leon's independent food preferences likely revolve around utility. protein. nutrition. careful rations. compact energy a growing boy needs to kill bioweapons. he doesn't strike me as having a particularly strong sweet tooth, but he also won't say no to a bit of dessert! but he's adaptable, of course. one must be in his line of work. your tastes and favored dishes will influence his palate a lot. he'll naturally associate flavors with you and will, over time, come to adopt a lot of your dietary choices.

cleaning? leon will do his best. you can count on him to not accidentally mix mustard gas in your bathroom, but his knack for cleanliness would be...odd. i choose to believe leon has a strict standard for bodily hygiene. his extended exposure to all manner of glop and viscera means he strives to smell nice and stay on top of dirt the best he can when he is able to...on his body. a house is different. he's never had to see it as a home, merely an empty room where he sleeps and eats. so maintaining it as a tidy space might not come naturally, and it's not as if he had a proper upbringing to teach him proper housekeeping techniques (cough, cough, he's an orphan).

man's a fast learner though. expect a lot of trial and error. him accidentally using glass cleaner on the stove. or not understanding the exact purpose of fabric softener. why do we need make our bed if we're just gonna sleep in it and mess it up again? he likely has a lot of bad habits from living on his own, but gentle guidance and persistent advice will go a long way.

of course, leon needs his private time. space for him to isolate and be alone...but, you're at work all day. the loneliness is easily accessible, and now that he has all the time and freedom to be with you...it's grating. his favorite sound is the noise your key makes when it unlocks the front door. he's careful, not incredibly overbearing, but you don't make it more than a few steps into your home before his head is poking around the corner. "how was your day? you look tired. here, let me take your coat off-" leon is a listener. he doesn't talk about himself much, if at all, so he'd prefer to just hear you ramble on about whatever you need to or want to. neck rubs. gentle squeezes on your arm. light kisses on your brow. he doesn't smother. he doesn't drown you in the touch he's so starved of. but you can tell, he misses you a lot.

the real issues will probably stem from the quiet. the absolute lack of danger. take a person out of their traumatic environment and things start crumbling real fast before they can start to heal. he's hyper-aware. paranoid. has all this pent up energy and an instinct to fight. and he has to redirect it all somewhere, right? it'd come out in bizarre ways. diy projects. you come home from work and he built you a fucking chair. you don't even need a chair, but now you have one. lots of yard work. he renovated your patio and set up a birdhouse (also handmade). you didn't really want him to rearrange your living room but he did it anyways.

and it's hard for him to relax. for him to feel truly safe. he'd insist on installing locks on all the doors. bulletproof windows. guns hidden and stashed in corners of the house, just in case. any tech that could impede on his privacy (ie, amazon echos, doorbell cameras, etc) are out of the question. he'd run you through drills and hypothetical scenarios. make sure you know what to do in any situation. he's vigilant, and honestly, you've never felt safer, but it wears him down and you aren't sure if it's truly good for him.

#shut up glacier #resident evil #leon kennedy #headcanons #i could go on and on and on and on tbh

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notbecauseofvictories · 1 year

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hi! i've been very wistfully admiring of your cooking and baking prowess but i'm about at the level of "pasta, vegetable, protein, jarred sauce" at this point and can't imagine getting to where you are. are there recipes you'd recommend for beginners? who hypothetically maybe have never used their oven?

Personally, right now I'm just about in the same spot---my desire to cook things has dropped precipitously, I've survived the last few weeks on salads and roasted chicken and crackers with cheese. But the good news is that there are plenty of options for the lazy cook! And the even better news is that I have all sorts of recipes for you...

DO NOT MAKE ME USE THE OVEN, SO HELP ME GOD

Quinoa Tabbouleh (lots of chopping, but afterwards you can make a giant vat of it and eat it slowly over the course of a week...)

Greek Tuna Salad (throw a bunch of cans together in a giant bowl, then eat it on lettuce)

White Bean and Broccoli Dip with Pesto (I make this by the bucket in the summer, though typically I use parmesan instead of nutritional yeast---and I eat it off of rice cakes!)

Pesto Gnocchi (green beans, cherry tomatoes, and delicious, delicious gnocchi, all smothered in pesto. Literally, where would you go wrong?)

SANDWICHES ARE GROWN-UP FOOD!!

Spicy Vegan Wraps (I am not personally vegan, but I make this all the fucking time)

Lemon Radish Tartine

Roasted Tomato Tartine (....listen you call it a "tartine" and I immediately get really interested)

Chicken Avocado Wraps (not something I make too often, but incredibly easy and mostly about shredding your chicken properly)

I HAVE EXACTLY ONE (1) POT

Quinoa-Kale Bowl (unbelievably easy, and the result is delicious)

BBQ Chicken Quinoa Casserole (this in particular makes for really great leftovers---especially if work has a microwave)

Dump & Bake Chicken and Rice (sometimes you just want a bunch of stuff covered in sauce and it's warm and delicious.)

Smothered Mushrooms and Kale (it's got nutrients and also tastes pretty good)

KEEPING UP WITH THE JONESES (I.E., WHAT TO COOK WHEN YOU'RE EXPECTING COMPANY)

Beet Bruschetta with Goat Cheese and Basil (I have made this for multiple different groups, as well as for myself, and every time---EVERY TIME---it's amazing.)

One-Pot Pasta with Sausage and Squash (slightly more sophisticated than the one-pot recipes above---but so fancy! and delicious.)

Puff Pastry Fruit Braid (did you think I'd get through this entire list without a single dessert? this is probably the most adaptable, consistently delightful recipe I have---and incredibly, incredibly easy to use, manipulate, or do whatever you want with. Features helpful pictures, and I think I've used every fruit combination you can imagine.)

#no love sincerer than the love of food #tw food

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foodffs · 8 months

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This Egg foo Young Recipe is a delicious light, airy Chinese omelet filled with red pepper, celery, mushrooms, onions, bean sprouts, scallions, and chicken smothered in a flavorful, tangy, and savory brown gravy that will leave you licking your plate.

#submission

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mybigfatgaylife · 1 year

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Please specify in comments/tags why it's a favorite and/or where to get your favorite version of the dish. Bonus points for sharing or linking to a recipe.

Please reblog if you vote!

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eusuntgratie · 1 month

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what is your favorite meal to make for others? what is your favorite meal that someone makes/made for you?

I LOVE THIS QUESTION THANK YOUUUUU AMANDA <3

i could talk about food all day every day.

i love to make things that people love that they might not get to eat all the time. i spent most of my life in NC, so i cook a lot of southern food for people who are from the south but don't live there anymore and southerners who don't cook certain things.

biscuits & gravy and chicken & dumplins are two things i make for my friends a lot when they visit.

i love making alfredo for my daughter because its her favorite. usually with chicken and broccoli.

i love baking people cakes and pies. i love trying new recipes when people visit and hoping for the best.

i love cooking venison for people who haven't had it or haven't had a lot of game meat or who have never had it prepared well.

i love making homemade pasta; i don't do it enough.

pierogis. i don't make those enough either. they are a lot of work, but i love them so much. i make the sauerkraut i put in them too.

my favorite meal my husband makes for me is steak. his wings are a close second they are SO GOOD and he makes them for big hockey games for me and kiddo 🥰 oh his carne asada is really good too, he hasn't made that in awhile. ooooh and scallops. yum.

my favorite meal my mama makes me for is round steak with rice and corn. or smothered chicken with lima beans. those are things i ask for the most when i visit her. oh and beef stew with cornbread. i make it too, but it's still better when she makes it. and angel food cake, which she made me every year for my birthday for most of my life.

ask me anything

#food is my love language #come visit me and ill cook you something delicious #food asks always welcome!!!#jbarneswilson #ask grace

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msfbgraves · 11 months

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There are whole treatises on immigrant cooking but it's so interesting to do it in real time.

I wanted some noodles with pickled eggs and immediately started the process.

They use a lot of unsweetened soy sauce. The thing is, sweetened soy sauce, as known in Indonesia, is so much cheaper here. And then there was the sesame oil. I have some sesame seeds, but they're hardly a staple, and my local supermarket did not stock sesame oil at all. And then there was the sesame paste, well, fuck it. I went with peanut butter for that. And no, they did not have white sesame seeds.

Unsweetened soy sauce, very expensive, immediately becomes a luxury, so we're doing this with sweetened soy sauce, omitting the sugar, and black sesame seeds. Also peanut butter and some Indonesian crushed pepper paste (sambal). Was it good? Yes! Did it, at this point, have anything to do with the Japanese version? I don't have money to be all authentic, crikey.

Also, Dutch national cuisine is extremely heavily influenced by not having:

Arable land

The climate to grow anything but cabbage, root vegetables or onions (few herbs). Spices are insanely expensive. We stil say that something is 'dear as pepper' (peperduur).

Do you know what we did have?

Livestock. And dairy. Plus beans and some fruits like apples, pears maybe some cherries and forest fruits.

So Dutch meals can only really be flavoured by meat! Fish is somehow a springtime and summer dish, because you need very soft baby carrots and very fresh vegetables to actually enjoy a meal of plain fish - again not even lemon - plus potatoes and some lettuce.

And oh, what if meat is unavailable?

(Not even bacon?)

There's only one thing for it, you smother it in cheese.

Now of course nowadays, you can buy herbs and spices. But still, our people are very bad at making vegetarian dishes, because if you can't flavour anything with meat or cheese what are you gonna do? Buy cumin?! Who has that kind of cash, traditionally?

So you see a lot of meats seasoned with fruits, or fruit served as a side dish. You see a lot of cabbage and kale mashed through potatoes. Why? It softens the taste; cabbage is quite harsh. You also see people basically give up on dinner, really, and inventing really tasty meat and cheesy bites. That does not a meal make, but they're really really good. It does also create a culture obsessed with desserts. If dinner is a bit of a bland affair, dessert can lift your spirits considerably.

A lot of this "White people can't season their food" comes from traditionally not having learnt non meat-based seasoning. We've tried to get by with fruits and the best cheese we could manage.

And sure. I am very eagerly brushing up on other kitchens, because now we absolutely can buy five spice and lentils and ginger. But I'm so much milder about "bad" cuisine or unauthentic foods. People are trying to do the best with what they have available and indeed what they know. Also, learning a foreign cuisine is hard and can be very expensive.

And I've decided that it's infintely easier to cook Surinamese in the Netherlands and Indian in the UK, so I'll cook Gordon Ramsay recipes when I'm there and sweet soy sauce chicken noodles when at home. Also try finding endive outside of Turkey and Holland. It's no use.

#cooking #culture #immigration #food culture

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demxnicprxncess · 1 year

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Evan Peters with a filipino partner?🤭🤭

So with this im going to do this as in like you take him to meet your mom and she makes a traditional filipino meal and yeah! sorry if this isnt all that good honey!

Taglist: @kitwalkersgfff, @ppawmpkin, @yes-divine-ruler, @quicksilversg1rl, @charsdunkie, @eddiemunsonsbitch69, @dahmevan, @sultrysullen dm me to be added or removed dears.

"Adobo" | Evan Peters x GN!Reader

"Ev, are you ready to go?" He nodded and walked up to me looking me up and down, "You look great babe." I smiled and kissed his cheek before walked to get in the car, "I'm nervous." I looked over at him from the passenger seat still smiling, "Why? I'm sure ma will love you." I turned on the radio to our favorite shared station as I set up the GPS to my mom's house, he sat beside me whilst driving and talking to himself rehearsing answers and questions. "Evan, calm down. Just be authentic and I swear she'll love you. Also she might cook my favorite meal Ev." He looked interested, "She's making hamburgers?" I laughed slightly looking down and ignoring that response by providing my own. "Chicken Adobo." He looked at me confused and kept driving before making a left turn, "What is that?" I smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "It's a Filipino dish, it's just chicken with garlic powder, onion powder, oregano, salt, pepper, and sometimes dried citrus. Nothing too strange. You might like it." He pulled up at a house I instantly recognized and I felt my excitement bubble up, "Come on babe!" I got out of the car extremely happy and ran around to his side to pull him out and drag him to the door, before I could knock I heard the door open and myself being yanked inside smothered with a hug and a scent I've relished in since I was young. "Mama!" I heard her soft laugh as she stroked my hair and kissed the crown of my head, "My baby has come home! Is this the young man you've told me about?" I nodded excitedly and pulled him close giving him time to introduce himself, "I'm Evan Mrs. (her last name)" She smiled and gave him the same hug she gave me, "Call me mom sweetheart." His face heated up red as she practically suffocated him. "Ma, I'm hungry I wanna eat." She smiled and pulled me by my hand before seating me at the table and bringing out three plates of food. One for me, one for Evan, and then one for her. Evan looked nervous as he got a little bit with his fork and taking a little tasting bite, I watched anxiously as he swallowed the chicken, his eyes lighting up at the taste of the different seasoning coating both his chicken and now his taste buds. He looked at me in amazement before taking another bite, "Wait what is this?" I smiled at him and his excitement my mom answering before I could, "It's Chicken Adobo. I'll give (Your name) the recipe sweet boy." He smiled and continued eating. After having spent over 5 hours at her house and having some drinks we decided on staying the night, we walked into my old room and he looked around and see drawing and awards from when I was six and older. At some point he seen an old school photo and chuckled. "So you HAVE always been this pretty huh?" I turned around and snatched it from him. "Shhh you weren't supposed to see that." He smiled and laid down on the small bed, "I got super lucky." I followed up his sentence with a kiss before laying by him, "Go to sleep Ev." "Goodnight (name) I love you." I smiled and snuggled into him mumbling a soft "I love you too" before lulling to sleep.

HERE YOU GOOOO

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