PHASES OF THE MOON Art By Thiago Corrêa

“Who did this to you?”

Bakugou’s voice is low, dangerous. His eyes are sharp as they stare at you.

“What?” You blink rapidly at him.

After a year of being friends with Bakugou, you’re used to him frequently being at some level of pissed off or annoyed.

But you’ve never seen him look so angry. Like he could tear the world apart.

“This.”

You’re not prepared when Bakugou reaches up to angle your chin towards him, your breath catching as his calloused fingertips grip against your skin. He brushes his thumb, feather-light, against your cheekbone. It’s then you remember the bruise there.

“Oh! I had a practice bout with one of the new kids at our gym. He got in a lucky punch but hit me a little too hard. He’s still learning,” you say.

You smile at Bakugou and raise your hand to pat his, the one cupped against your cheek.

“Don’t worry, Bakugou. It looks worse than it actually is.”

Bakugou grunts. You expect him to step back, let go.

But he’s still, gaze locked on your face, thumb brushing back and forth against your skin like it doesn’t send shivers through your entire body, like it doesn’t make your face feel like the surface of the sun.

Nervous about his intense attention, you bite your bottom lip. Bakugou’s eyes drop to track the movement and stick there.

You can’t breathe. Is he…?

The sound of distant footsteps drawing nearer pops the bubble you’re in.

Bakugou pulls away. He doesn’t go too far, though, and because you’re so close, you can see that the tips of his ears are red, despite his neutral expression.

“Don’t box with that kid again,” he says, voice raspy, a little husky.

You swallow and nod before his words can process. Bakugou nods back, satisfied, before turning to walk away.

He’s halfway down the hallway before you come to your senses. Wait. You make a face.

“You’re not the boss of me!” you call at his retreating back.

He stops. Turns.

“What’d you say?” he asks, eyes narrowed at you, handsome face skewed into a scowl.

You know you should be intimidated, but. You think about the look in his eyes when he touched you. The heat of his palm.

So you just smile at him.

“You heard me.”

touchstarved!dabi who's unused to any sort of physical contact that isn't reprimand or pain. he tries so hard to keep it together when you scratch your nails down his scalp, but he can't help pressing up against your hand, silently begging for more.

touchstarved!dabi who starts to crave the feeling of your skin on his with an almost visceral pain. he can't help it; you're just so soft and warm and kind

touchstarved!dabi who nuzzles into your neck and nips at your ear hard as you ride him, whispering filth that makes your stomach drop, "going nice and tight around me, aren't ya, baby? let me feel you gush all over my cock, go on, you can do it"

touchstarved!dabi who goes absolutely feral when he's been away from you for any longer than a week, collaring you by the neck and dragging you into his room just to toss you onto the bed and hitch your thighs under his forearms, "show me how much you fucking missed me princess" (goodbye to your fucking guts)

touchstarved!dabi who refuses to get up afterwards because he likes to bask in the feeling of your skin against his

Fatgum form smut pleaseeeeeeeee 🤲🏼 I just want them to love each other and bang

His fat form is good for many things. It's good for his job, obviously. It's good for combat and his brand, good for making him seem more approachable-

It's not good for intimacy.

Tai keeps the light off, as if that makes it any better. That way, he can't see your face when he sits down next to you on the couch. Surprisingly, you're quick to throw a leg over him, straddling his lap with wide legs.

"This is what you've been hiding from me?" you tease. Your touch is so liberal; you give it so easily, so much. Everything about you is pressing and touching and-

A hand on your hip to keep you apart for him.

"I know it's not..." he trails off. It's not a lot of things. The though won't form; his skin is buzzing too loud.

"I like you like this." You cup his cheeks in your hands, head tilted with an abundance of affection and a hint of mischief. "I like a big boy."

But Taishiro can't shake off the feeling that you're lying.

"It's okay." He laughs this time. "I know I'm not-- I know I'm not attractive like this."

He can feel your weight shift as you tilt your head to the other side, watching him in the dark.

"Give me your hand."

Both of your hands fit into his. Easily, you guide it to your mouth and kiss each knuckle, slowly, unrushed, each touch a love letter in itself. It's tender. So tender tgat he gives into you, lets you moce him how you need him.

Then, you drag it to your cheek, down your neck, all the way to the top of your collarbone. He almost pulls away on instinct, but your grip is firm and trustworthy. The give of your breast shocks the breath out of him, especially when you close your hands around his and force him to squeeze.

"Oh," he manages. He's never fully allowed himself this, never allowed himself to touch you, but now you make him. He's caressing your stomach, fumbling with your shirt--

Oh.

Oh.

His hand is suddenly down the front of your pants. Your panties are soft and lacey, but you don't give him time to admire that. No, you're pushing him lower, until his thick fingers are pressing between your folds-

"Tai," you whisper, right into the shell of his ear. "Am I wet?"

"Y-yeah."

Your hips roll into the palm of his hand and he's amazed at how your excitement slips between his fingers.

"Am I wet for you?"

His breath gets caught in his throat. "Yeah."

Your laugh goes so deep that it's almost a purr. Throwing an arm around his neck, your hips move again, this time more securely. It happens again, then again, then again, and your head dips low into the crook of his neck.

"Mm," your voice is buttery with want. "Yeah, I am."

It takes him a while to cut through the static thats built on in his brain and realize what you're doing. You're masturbating. You're masturbating using his hand.

"I'm so wet for you." Your body presses closer to his torso. "I want your fingers."

Oh, he should move, but he's just so gobsmacked that he can't. This has to be a dream, a hallucination-

"I want your cock."

Your tone tips up, wobbly and tender and ugly in the most delicious way, the way that makes his ribs open with want-

When you cum, it's with a garbled tone. If he weren't touching you, feeling how your pussy twitches and pulls and wets, he'd think you were lying to him, protecting his ego.

But, instead you chuckle, right into the shell of his ear.

"That's how bad I want you."

free falling is a taste of freedom

feat: keigo takami / hawks

warnings: language, heaviness, implications of reader and keigo being groomed by the commission, violence (if u squint), bittersweet

cache notes: i crashed out during this so many times omfg. but anyways heavily inspired by circles by pierce the veil and monsters by all time low (once we figure out why spotify links aren't working i'll link the songs heh)

m.list

the first day you met hawks, he was in the training gym working on some stupid trick of his– something about flipping forward and bringing his blades out at the same time and landing some stupid comic book hero– and you had to hide a laugh when he tripped over his own feet. he challenged you to a sparring match later that day, after the weekly commission meeting where you were properly introduced to one another; where he promptly kicked your ass with his fast reflexes and sharp wit. 

the two of you became fast friends after that. 

the first day you met keigo, he had found you on the roof, crying to yourself. that mask of indifference cracked almost instantly the second he saw you turn towards him with tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. he doesn’t remember why you were crying, only the fact that the sight made his heart clench in a way that foreign and uncomfortable and he needed to do something about it. 

more times than not here recently, you receive hawks more than keigo. it hurts in a way that’s more nostalgic than anything, like remembering an old childhood friend that drifted away or a home-cooked meal whose recipe you can’t remember because the originator died years ago. 

a lot of people say that young heroes are very mature for their age. you don’t know if that’s just true for the females, or if it qualifies for any of the kids raised in the commission. in yours and hawks’ case; maturity was something learned far too young and quickly. death was a subject brought up before you even got to think about how the summer would feel spent on the side of the lake with a bottle of booze and grilled food. 

the two of you take turns every thursday at each other’s agencies to visit and spend some time with each other. you usually bring paperwork to thumb through, hawks brings coffee and distractions. this thursday, hawks is at yours. he’s got his wings spread so they cover a small portion of your office floor– which scatters feathers everywhere, but you’d scold and make him clean them up later– laying upside down on the small couch to the side of the room. 

he kicks his feet lazily as they hang over the back of the couch, humming as he scrolls through his phone. when he speaks, the sentence is so casual it causes you to choke on your own tongue. “we should run away one of these days.”

when you’ve managed to compose yourself, hawks is not looking at you. his eyes are still locked on the screen, the same look of relaxed concentration that you’ve seen all through childhood on his expression. 

your eyes narrow. “don’t be stupid,” you’re careful about how tight your voice sounds. your fingers pause their actions from typing on your keyboard, your gaze split from the document on your computer to his figure draped over your office sofa. “they’d never let both of us go at the same time.”

hawks barks out a laugh, though the corners of his mouth never fully lift to his natural smile. your tongue is pressed between your lips, biting back a snarky remark. it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious, or just yanking your chain. 

“you’re always so serious, [y/n],” he’s chuckling, still looking at the screen in front of his face. “just indulge me for once?”

your back meets the arch of your office chair as a sigh racks through your body. the blinking cursor stares back at you, taunting you to just continue working instead of diving into the silly hypothetical he’s proposed. but part of you wants to dabble in it– to hear him out. see just how far he’s actually thought into it, if he’s actually planned anything out or just talking casual shit just to have something to talk about like usual when he’s over visiting you. 

“say we did run. where would we go?”

you can see him pause for a moment in his scrolling. “leave the country, obviously. south america maybe?”

a snort leaves your lips, your grin is purely sarcastic. “south america?”

“hypothetical,” he replies, his eyes finally leave his phone and meet yours, flashing that signature grin of his. in the back of your mind you’re wondering if all the blood has rushed to his head yet. he’s been sitting upside-down for a while now, his face is still a normal color. 

“so we’re flying, i suppose?” 

hawks shrugs. he pulls his phone away from his face and lets his arms fall gently to the floor beside his head. “we can,” he starts, his bottom lip juts to the side like it always does when he says something he doesn’t exactly agree with. “or take another mode of transportation.”

a single eyebrow raises to that, and you let out a chuckle. “yeah, i can see you on a public bus very vividly.”

you don’t miss how his eyes narrow, his eyebrows knitting together as he glares at you for that response. he knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, he’s painfully aware of that. at eighteen he should be worrying about going to college or something, getting his driving license or other normal things teenagers worry about. 

“could always split it up though,” he offers, his eyes rolling the slightest bit as he adjusts himself. he slides a bit further– his shoulders now meet the floor. instead of looking at you, he traces imaginary shapes on the ceiling. “i could fly us part of the way and we hitchhike some of the way.”

“not hitchhiking,” you disagree almost instantaneously. your fingers find miscellaneous paper, fiddling with the corner as you swing back and forth in your office chair. “i’ve heard too many horror stories about that kind of shit.”

there’s a noise from the other side of the room. hawks slides the rest of the way off the couch, now moving onto his knees before righting himself– stopping once his eyes meet yours. “you act like i wouldn’t be there to protect you,” there’s a flash– almost as quick as his skills in the sky, he tries to cover it; but you see it. for just a moment, hawks lets keigo out, evident in his tone and vague possessiveness in his words. 

the corner of your mouth lifts, but it’s to alleviate tension. the small smile is not genuine and hawks can’t tell if it hurts more than it pisses him off. 

the next time running away is brought up, it’s not by his mouth. it’s by yours. 

you’re agitated. pissed off, pacing back and forth and walking with purpose towards his office like your life depends on it. you know he’s not on patrol at the moment– he’s been online posting so you know he’s in his office with his feet propped on his desk like he has nothing better to do. 

it’s not a thursday. he’s surprised to see you storm into his office, but he doesn’t comment on how hard you slam his door shut or how you look like you’re practically steaming. his feet merely drop from his desk to the floor and his eyebrow raises. he knows better than to open his mouth– something stupid would come out anyways. 

“let’s run away.” 

keigo reels back like he’s been slapped. he takes a good look at you– frazzled, eyes bloodshot from either stress crying or strained from overuse, hair mussed and not in the attractive way he’s come to find extremely endearing– he can’t tell if you’re of sound mind at the moment. but your voice– your tone– how you sound so sure of yourself, so firm and demanding–

it’s been years since he brought up the idea. the two of you were eighteen and fresh into the hero scene, keigo was a popular favorite and immediately in the top ten and since then he’s been steadily climbing through the ranks. you’ve been pushing the burning feeling of being left behind and stuck in his shadow to the back of your mind for a while now. 

“are you okay?” his tone is gentle, but it’s artificially sincere. you know this subject is a sore spot. there’s a reason it hasn’t been brought up since that day. it’s clear in the way his shoulders are tense, the muscles in his jaw taut and teetering over the edge of pulling the fight or flight card. 

there’s a distraught sigh that leaves your lips. “no, i’m not okay,” your tone is tight. your hands are clenched so hard that they ache and your knuckles are white. you’re pacing in short strides– back and forth, back and forth– your eyes wild as they pick out small objects on shelves. small objects. throwable objects. 

“we could hit the gym if you want–”

“i can’t fucking do this anymore, keigo!” 

you can feel the tears trailing down the apples of your cheeks and your tear ducts burn. the last thing your tear clouded vision sees is keigo surging towards you before your hands clap over your face, shielding your actively crumbling expression. 

“i’m stressed, there’s so much pressure,” you feel the sob rack through your body. “they want me on back to back patrols and then this mission in another city and then training the new hires at the agency–”

suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again. the way his hands cradle your jaw– bare fingertips because he knows how much you hate the fabric of his gloves against your skin– you didn’t even see him remove his gloves. the touch clearly rattles you, causing you to stiffen against his palms. 

keigo doesn’t allow you to move away. even as your hands slide down and off of your face, even as your forehead meets his own in such a tender form of comfort. suddenly, the two of you are fourteen again, out on the rooftop of the HPSC, comforting each other in the only way the two of you can when you’ve been abandoned by the people who had gifted you life. 

keigo’s nose bumps against your own, an intimate gesture that you’ve seen only reserved for yourself. the two of you had never talked about dating, or love or anything romantic revolving whatever kind of relationship you shared– you never had the time, nor the privilege to– but you knew what was there. he held you as if you were priceless, a treasure that he would fight tooth and nail before handing over. 

his lips part to speak, breath warm as it ghosted over your own; but the abruptness of his office door swinging open causes both of you to flinch and separate. it’s not like the two of you were doing anything lewd– but the wide eyed intern in the doorway couldn’t tell that. all she saw was the two of pull apart, a look of embarrassment and a flush on each of your faces before keigo clears his throat and addresses her. 

and as quickly as the moment is interrupted, it is forgotten. 

in the next years that follow, keigo rises to number two, you stay locked in the upper twenties of the rankings. the threat of a war sends your agency into a frenzy, more employees being sent out, more sidekicks on missions and more patrols passed around and shared. every hero is on high alert, not just yourself. 

you still catch glimpses of him, but its scarce. thursdays are practically empty now without the once welcomed noisy distractions in your office. your thursdays are now spent on patrol well into the night, stationed just on the outskirts of town where the league was spotted before. 

they never show up, you never get any action; but you don’t complain. it’s nice to have silence to yourself. 

this particular thursday, you catch a familiar flash of red and tan slip past your peripheral. whether he wanted you to catch him or not, you’ll never know. the surprise on his expression was hard to decipher once you finally did catch up to him. 

although you were elated to see him after so long, the first words out of your mouth were not praise nor sweet. “the fuck happened to your wings, keigo?”

you watch as his form pauses, stiffening at his given name before he turns– wide eyed and guilty– like you caught him doing something shady. and you hated how immediately your walls shot up, your muscles on guard and tense. this was keigo. he was not a threat. why was your body reacting the way it was?

“they’re fine, they just need some time to heal,” his voice is low– sheepish. the corner of his mouth lifts to create that boy-ish grin that wins screeches and squeals from crowds of women– but to you, it’s only manufactured. 

his hair, once long and shaggy with those few stupid curls that you always found annoyingly endearing; was now trimmed short and cropped closer to his head. it’s a jarring look, compared to how you’ve always known him– but you can’t help but think it looks better on him. 

the scar is also new. and granted, you’ve seen him on the news and during his press conference; you’ve seen his appearance change. 

but it’s earth-shattering, to say the least, to see it in the flesh. you want to reach out to the small appendages hanging from his back. to touch and feel them– see if they still react how they’ve always done to your touch and presence. 

keigo steps back from you, seeing your outstretched hand. the motion causes your hand to drop slowly, a ringing can be heard in the outer part of your ears. “what are you doing out here?” 

he knows what you mean. and yet he deflects it, “patrolling. our routes overlap, y’know?”

they don’t, and he knows that. you take a step towards him once again. “keigo.”

he takes another step back, forcing you into some kind of twisted dance. “[y/n].”

you hate being held at arms length. you can clearly tell he’s lying, hiding something from you. and granted, the two of you haven’t really been around each other the past couple years, but you grew up with him. this is your best friend, your first ally– the person you trust the most with the darkest parts of yourself. in some ways, you know you love him. of course you love him. you’re just not sure in what ways. 

“why are you being so weird?” the dance continues. you don’t miss how his jaw clenches when he realizes he’s got four more steps until you have him backed against the wall. he chews on the inside of his cheek– one of his tells you’ve been able to pick up over the many years of training and being around him– before he sidesteps and turns the tables. the edge of his blade rests carefully against your jaw for mere seconds before you take a shaky step backwards. 

with your back now facing the wall, keigo advances. his fingers flex around the handle of the blade and his steps are firm as they chase your own unsettled and rattled movements. “i’m not being weird,” he sounds like he’s forcing the words out. “stop itching for a fight, [y/n].”

your brows furrow with undiluted confusion. your body feels tense and rigid, uneasy with emotions that don’t connect coherently to thoughts. the complete flip of his mood and tone have you spiraling. you aren’t face to face with keigo anymore– this is a new side of hawks, one you haven’t had the ‘joy’ of meeting yet. 

“i’m not itching for a fight!” you hate how your voice trembles. like you’re scared. 

your back hits the wall and the tip of the crimson blade in his hand knicks your chin. there’s a dull stinging, but you can barely feel it over the roar in your eardrums. 

keigo is not normally an intimidating guy. yes, he can be, but you’ve rarely seen it or experienced it. and his little hawks persona is just the same as well— you’ve been on patrol with him before. you’ve seen him take down villains, you’ve seen him in training; you’ve seen every side of him. 

except this one. this intimidating, intense— frightening aura before you, you’re at a loss for words. 

“you’re pushing for information that doesn’t concern you,” keigo growls, his head dipping to meet your eyes. he holds a palm out—either to subtly pin you against the wall or grab at you if you choose to attack— you’re not sure. he adjusts his hold on the handle and fixes the tension in his jaw with a click. 

the both of you are close enough to share breaths, but far enough apart to know that there is something different between the two of you. you are no longer fourteen, eighteen, or fresh in your twenties. when you breathe in, keigo breathes out. 

your hand lifts, reaching forward— towards him— all the tension melts. instead of leaning into your touch like he would back then, his head surges forward and seizes your lips with his own. 

keigo had told you before that the freest he’s ever felt is in the skies. you’ve been flying with him before, you know exactly the type of exhilarating, adrenaline inducing emotion he’s talking about. with the lack of ground beneath you and the limitless sky above, keigo was exactly right. it was the closest thing to freedom he had. 

with his lips on yours, you feel like you are free falling, hurling towards the earth at untamable speeds and the impact into the dirt is the sensation of his mouth pulling away from yours. 

keigo might get a taste of freedom everyday, but it was nothing compared to the taste of freedom he had just given you. 

“i’m just scared,” he mumbles, his voice is small. he sounds so young, so impossibly childlike that you have to open your eyes a blink to make sure it was still him that was brushing against your lips with each breath and syllable. “i… i almost died. i got reckless and screwed everything up and—“ 

your hand moves to the back of his head— a twinge shoots through you when you remember the curls aren’t as long so you can’t hook your fingers through them— and your hand steadies at the back of his neck, pulling his forehead to rest against yours. “why didn’t you come find me?” 

it’s selfish of you to say that. it really is. but the two of you have been each other’s support systems since you were adolescents. 

keigo winces slightly at your statement. “i couldn’t face you like that, [y/n].” 

his blade is still against your jaw, cold and a firm reminder that you were supposed to be elsewhere. your eyes meet his, a silent exchange between the two of you. 

i’ve seen you look worse. 

you always have, haven’t you? 

the silence holds more words, but neither of you put the weight down. whether it be the risk and danger of speaking on it, or the action being a spur of the moment between two childhood friends trying to fit pieces in where they don’t quite fit yet. 

that night you get home from patrol and dream of the feeling of keigo’s lips. you wake up crying. 

you haven’t seen hawks face to face in years. when you finally do run into him at the office, both of you are visibly different from those early years at the commission. you’ve grown your hair out, he’s lost the plumage of red that used to hang behind him. you’re only passing through, grabbing paperwork for your own agency when the two of you stop dead in your tracks in front of each other. 

he’s only grown a couple inches, and he’s kept his hair short. the scar from the war has healed and faded into his skin, but the outline still shows. it makes him look more rugged, more defined. he had always argued with you that the facial hair he tried so desperately to grow did most of the work— the scar did it perfectly on its own. 

hawks is the first to speak. his eyes are shining in a way that’s hard to tell if he’s seconds away from bursting into tears or just looking at something brighter than the sun. “it’s been a while.” 

the inhale you take in is shorter than the exhale you push out. your smile is shaky, and your grip around the files in your hand tightens. “it’s been a while, yeah…” 

there’s a lot to be said. the two of you can’t continue to stare at each other with so much longing, so much emotion. 

there’s a stretch of silence, hawks shifts awkwardly. the katanas against his back slap against muscle and he raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. he can tell time is running out, with the way that you shift the files against your waist and the impending footsteps of employees and commission workers down the hall. 

“you ever wish that we did it?” 

your tongue feels dry. “did what?” 

“run away,” hawks whispers. he chews on the inside of his cheek and it forces you to pause. “we should’ve done it.” 

your vision feels sluggish, dragging up from his lips, to his cheek where his tongue pokes at the inside; up to his eyes. 

you don’t know if you’ll get that taste of freedom only he could give you ever again. 

“we’re still here,” you murmur. your tongue presses in between your lips and you watch hawks physically hold himself back. i’m still here. you’re still here.

by now, the group from down the hall has caught up. your words are rushed as you force them off of your tongue; “do you want to—“ 

he’s swept up by the commission workers before he can hear the latter part of your statement. he reaches for you as he brushes past, bare fingertips against your wrist that send static throughout your skin. you squeeze him back in the half of a second he gives you and you can see the corner of his mouth lift as he’s ushered down the hall. 

freedom was always so close to you, you realize. in your case, it wasn’t a feeling or an action— but a person. 

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

painted over this piece from may 🌈 prints coming soon :)

okay so i finished checking if we were friends in every universe and, uh, it turns out we're only friends in 6 of them. but look, i need you to understand these universes vary like crazy, okay? like 6 is actually insanely high, like way higher than most. and one of those is the universe where i accidentally killed the actor who played Dipsy from Teletubbies when i was 7 and my life went completely differently as a result. and we still ended up friends! also you were a girl in that universe for some reason. what? oh, uh, yeah, you were cute as hell. like really cute. did you just fucking giggle

BOYFRIEND KATSUKI

pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

synopsis: just some random texts with bf!katsuki.

NOTE. hehe it’s late n im a little drunk but enjoy <3

011. CARNATIONS

Mornings with you in the Todoroki household were mornings Touya never wanted to let go of. They were simple, they were intimate, they were romantic.

Every day was like an odd dream come true. Yes, his family tip toed around him like he was something delicate—something that'll shatter if they press their fingertips too hard against him. But Touya was like a bull, barreling through anyone and everything with that trademark grin stretched taut over his features

You woke up first most mornings with Fuyumi. She was a lovely person to start the day with, being friendly and sweet right as the sun rose. Everyone was quiet in the mornings, tired smiles and sleepy chatter was what breakfast sounded like. Soft.

The Todoroki household didn't get to have mornings like this—at least, not when Enji had been there.

Touya was always the last to stroll into the kitchen. He would stretch like a cat when he walked in—long arms perched over his head as he yawned. His hair was an absolute mess in the morning, and you always need to press your mouth against the rim of your mug to hide you smile

It stuck up in every direction—soft, ivory tufts curling and moving around him like a cloud. His shirt would lift a bit as he yawned, and you'd be able to catch a glimpse of his scars and abs flexing underneath his tee as he did—you'd snap your eyes away the second they caught sight of his happy trail peaking right above the waistband of his pants with burning cheeks.

Touya would slide into the seat beside you. A small, cheeky grin on his face as he rasped a casual good morning and how'd ya sleep? in your direction. There would be a boyish type of amusement swirling in his eyes if you ever did stutter with your response. Touya's teasing you and he knows it.

The rest of the day usually consisted of Touya hanging out with Natsuo and Fuyumi—both siblings had cleared their schedules, dedicating as much time as they could to Touya. Knowing he was in good hands—you'd take a step back and let them spend some much needed time with their brother.

Shoto was usually with you and Rei

There was still an invisible barrier he didn't dare to cross—and, well, no one was going to push Touya to bring Shoto with him. Shoto seemed perfectly content with watching his siblings hang out without him. If they were happy, what more could he ask for? He wasn't alone at home—he had his mother and you, a friend in the making.

Shoto liked you. A lot. He likes the way you think, he likes the way you talk—gently, softly, respectfully, with him and his mother. He could've never guaranteed a doctor that didn't have a personal bias to his family after the war, but they had all gotten particularly lucky with you.

He also thinks your the prettiest doctor he's ever seen—maybe just the prettiest person ever. It wasn't just on the outside, this prettiness. It was you, in and out. Shoto has never met someone so genuine. Someone so open and wiling—maybe you were naive for giving one of Japan's biggest criminals a chance—but Shoto will forever be grateful you offered Touya a hand when he needed it most.

"Why didn't you chose to become a teacher?"

Your eyes flick up from the letter you were helping Shoto construct for Touya, a little startled by his quick question before you smile. You were doing a wonderful job teaching Shoto how to construct this paticular letter for Touya—your patience was endless as the poor teen struggled to find the right words he wanted to present his nii-san with. And while you were helping him—you mention how you had a dream of teaching at one point.

"I have the education to become one, but—you know how life is, don't you Shoto? Unexpected things happen all the time. I think it was a split second decision, but I'm forever grateful I chose to become a psychiatrist." You grin, gently nudging his shoulder as he offers you a half smile

"So you teach Touya too?" He questions after a moment, and you nod with a hum

"That's....that's very nice of you."

Shoto wasn't very good at keeping a conversation flowing, but he was trying. You lead the talk from there—and he seems relieved you understood that he wanted to keep talking even though he had nothing more to say as he leans back in his chair, listening to you speak with a small smile on his face as he nods along.

It was Thursday today, your last full day at the Todoroki household. You and Touya would leave tomorrow afternoon, and the thought is saddening. Was it selfish to want to stay longer? It was hard getting all the supervisors and doctors on board with allowing Touya to leave the facility with no guards anyway—so instead of wishing for more, you focus on the present. Cherish it.

Eventually, everyone is back home within a few hours. Touya's smile beams as bright as a beacon after a day out with Natsuo and Fuyumi. Apparently, they had taken a drive and visited at all of Touya's favorite places in town.

Shoto had spent a few minutes asking Touya how his day was—what he ate, if he'd seen anything that had changed over the years—all sorts of little things. Touya was a bit short and clipped with his answers at first, but he warmed up to Shoto soon enough. How could he not when the poor kid was practically leaning off of his chair, hanging onto every word that left Touya's lips as he listened with a blank but frighteningly intense stare?

Of course Touya felt a little guilty asking Fuyumi and Natsuo to come with him and not Shoto—but Touya felt like any connection with Shoto would have to be formed one on one. He couldn't bring him along because that just wouldn't work. Touya needed to understand Shoto on his own.

The letters were working—Touya and Shoto had passed a few between each other over the last couple of days, and when Shoto presented Touya with another one right when he'd gotten home today—Touya had read it in the doorway with a small smile before offering Shoto an awkward fist bump

....Progress

You don't think you've seen Touya smile so much. He cries a lot too, but every tear shed is with a smile. He's so happy, you don't think he'll ever want to leave.

But even as the day to leave comes closer and closer, he doesn't seem upset. You and I will be together, was what he'd said when you asked him if he was sad to go back

I'll be happy as long as you're with me.

He had mumbled those last few words to you before his eyes fluttered close. He had a long today—fishing with his siblings, wrestling with Natsuo (and knocking over a very expensive vase in the process), all while ending the day talking for hours with you in the living room, reflecting over his trip and how he felt.

You're kneeling on the ground, back pressed against the couch Touya is laying on as your eyes trace over the dips and slopes of his neck. If you hold your breath quietly enough, you can hear the gentle thump of Touya's heart beating.

You didn't even hear Rei enter the room at first. Her feet were clad in socks as she padded in, and you were in a trance—mesmerized by the way Touya's soft lips moved in his sleep. He looked angelic even in his sleep—milky skin and pale hair. He was ethereal, really.

Rei sits beside Touya on the couch he was laying on, her hand moving towards his hair to card through the strands—she regards you with a soft smile, and you send her a shyer one in return

"Hi," You whisper quietly, cheek smushed against the cushion of the couch from where you sat on the ground as you brought your gaze back towards Touya. Rei bows her head quietly in greeting

The silence is filled by the crackling flames in the fireplace a few meters over from you all. It casts a blanket of gleaming gold over Touya's face. If you thought he couldn't look any more like an angel, you were mistaken. Because the glow of the flames highlights and sharpens his features, outlining him and licking his skin with its fierce shine

Sure, Touya had enough criminal charges against him to get a death sentence—but gosh, can't everyone else see the adorable dimples in his cheeks when he smiles?

You're trying to deny the feelings creeping up your chest—clawing at your ribs and simply begging to be released to find solace in his arms. You're smitten, head over heels, absolutely sick with nothing but a relentless, burning love for Touya.

"Thank you for what you've done for us, Y/n. You're a special part of our family now. I...can't picture Touya in my mind without you being right beside him."

You're snapped out of your daze when Rei finally speaks up—and the weight of her words sink into your brain slowly as you blink back tears. Her confession was quiet, but the truth in her voice was so raw. It took your breath away—and you sit in stunned silence before a small whimper escapes your throat. She used the hand that wasn't massaging Touya's scalp to swipe at the tears that rolled down your cheeks

"Thank you," You choke out, your voice heavy with emotion and wet with laughter as you lean into her palm. For a woman with an ice quirk, she was, surprisingly but pleasantly, warm.

Touya's chin trembles, just barely after you speak. But you catch the movement anyway—watching his lips settle into a wobbly line. Rei was too busy staring at you with round eyes to notice her son had been pretending to sleep the entire time she was playing with his hair

Touya wasn't trying to eavesdrop—he just thought his mother might shy away from playing with his hair if she knew he was awake.

Rei used to sneak into Touya's room when he was a child and do the same thing she'd been doing just now—she used to murmur apologies she wasn't brave enough to voice in the day while she scrubbed the salty remnants of tears that had dried on Touya's face. Touya went to bed crying more times that not, but Rei always snuck into his room late at night to try and ease the tension from his muscles.

Like a good mother would, Rei would massage the crease between his brows from furrowing too much, run her hands up and down his back—anything to try and help him. Little did she now her hands would lull that little boy to sleep every night.

Sometimes, Touya would get into fights with his mother on purpose just so she could come and hold him later at night. She'd often start speaking quietly to him thinking he was asleep, little I'm sorry Touya's and I love you, Touya's slipping past her lips.

Touya would always pretend to be asleep. But this time, he had accidentally intruded on a moment that wasn't meant for his ears.

Rei leaves after a few minutes, bidding you goodnight quietly as she heads upstairs and into her own room. You don't turn back to look at Touya until you hear the faint sound of her door clicking close

He's grabbing your palm, wrapping his fingers around your slender ones—intertwining his hand with yours

" 'm sorry." He mumbles quietly, a small smile on his face as he watched your hand practically drown in the grip of his larger one. He spread out his fingers, pressing your palm against his and admiring the way your fingers fit against his. It was like his hands were made to hold yours.

Out of all the destruction and heartbreak they've brung—they could bring love too. And comfort, and support—they could bring good.

He sits up fairly quickly, the blankets shifting beneath him as he sits up straight on the couch. You're still kneeling on the ground as he cradles your hand—playing with it. You wiggle your way between his legs, and he spreads his knees to let you into the gap between his legs. Your head falls onto the space between his thigh and knee, and he uses his free hand to curl a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You both stare as he plays you like a puppeteer would—moving your hands with his. He spreads your fingers, curls them, and runs the pads of his fingertips over your knuckles more times than you can count. He spends time tracing any birthmarks he comes across too, circling around them with his thumb and committing them to memory

"Touya."

He can't look up. Touya presses his eyes closed, he can hear the unspoken question hanging in the air. The uncertainty, the doubt, the pending guilt. He hears it all—a thousand words spoken but not a sound passed between the two of you.

"I love you,"

Your hand goes still in his

"I love you Y/n. I love you so damn much. Like—it's bad. My whole fucking world revolves around you. You saved me, I thought I was done for after the war. I... I was gonna end it. End it all. I wish I could've met you sooner, and I wish I wasn't an absolute mess when we did meet, but—but Y/n, we work. We work, right? You're perfect. You're—fuck, everything I'll ever need and everything I'll ever want—you mean it all to me. No one can replace you. Do you understand what I'm saying? I fucking love you."

You thought you could hear his heartbeat before—but now, you can hear it slamming against his ribcage. He splays your palm over his chest, and it's like his heart is in your palm—if you squeeze your eyes shut hard enough, than yes—you could feel the blood oozing over your fingertips and down your wrists as his heart beats underneath your death grip. Because Touya just ripped his heart out of his chest and gave it all to you.

He leans down to cradle your face in his palms, which in turn means you have to tilt your head up to meet his lips. It's salty. The tears streaming down your face connect at your lips, but Touya licks them away

His kiss isn't perfect—this is his first kiss, after all. But Touya has never put more of his soul into anything else. It's a little desperate and there are moments when you laugh into his mouth with how clumsy he is as he pulls you onto his lap—but Touya's heart is bleeding everywhere and you're collecting the blood like a drain, taking all he had to offer and accepting ever fault and flaw

I love you, he mumbles against your lips. I love you I love you I love you—and suddenly, it's not his voice speaking the words anymore

It's yours.

His eyes are wide, like his ears have betrayed him. Like you kissing him back didn't already confirm how you felt about him. He swoops back in again, smiling against your lips as he presses soft kisses all over your face

You close your eyes. He kisses you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids, your forehead—honoring the face he had come to love so much. Honoring the features that he would never forget—forever forged into his soul.

His advancements end with you pinned against the couch—and Touya feels dizzy as his forehead knocks against yours. He settles his weight around you carefully, near panting as he cradles you to his chest

He needs a second to collect his breath.

Your lips are tinged red from all the times he'd gently sunk those sharp teeth into the soft flesh of your lips, trying to taste you and feel you and God—you felt better than any daydream his mind could ever conjure.

"We're gonna get in trouble." You whisper, pawing at his chest. You feel high—it didn't happen, you didn't kiss him, it's not—

He kisses you again. It's soft, it's slow, it's sensual—and he pulls away after a brief moment

"Just...just us right now." He mumbles, kissing you again. Again and again and again. It takes him another twenty minutes to lead you to his room

Your soft giggles were the only sound until the door clicked close. He still held you up in his arms, your ankles locked together behind his back with your legs wrapped around his strong waist. He drops you onto the soft heap of blankets and pillows of his childhood bed before crawling in after you

For you, the next few hours the two of you spend huddled under his blanket in each other's arms were the absolute best.

Touya outlines all of your face's features once again, but this time—he tells you why he loves every single one so dearly. He tells you how when he was sixteen, he dreamed of becoming a father one day. He tells you how every night since he met you, he only dreams of one thing over and over again—you you you you, it's all you.

You tell Touya how you've talked to your cats about him—this gets a loud laugh rumbling from deep within his chest, one where his eyes twinkle in the moonlight as he smiles against your skin—you tell him how you've never been in love before, and how you like the way his bangs fall in front of his eyes when his whole body shakes with laughter

You tell each other all the things you wouldn't have dared to voice back at the hospital—maybe it was the new domestic setting the two of you were thrown in that egged you on. But it didn't matter. Not right now, at least. Because Touya was finally kissing you, finally opening and revealing the last bits of himself to you—stripping his heart and mind bare and succumbing to your sweet, gentle mercy.

Touya loved you, and you loved him. That was all that would ever matter at the end of the day.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; merry christmas and happy holidays!! :)) i really hope you guys liked this chapter 🥺 their first kiss + my posting schedule aligned PERFECTLY with christmas. so, this is my christmas gift to all of YOU lovely readers!! also i just wanna note (this is not written but its CANON) that y/n was telling her cat abt touya after meeting him for the first time and they were looking up at her like :O as she babbled on and on for a freaking hour. like "he is sooo handsome. the timeless type of of handsome. the CLASSY type." "but he's kinda sassy" "and an ass." "but that's okay! we'll work on that!!" and as alwayssss, thank you SO much for reading. I LOVE YOU ALL STAY SAFE AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

tags!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse @rueclfer @kelin-is-writing

@shugs1801 @imaginationmess

@lasa27 @sophiathefrog @etaerealboy @kooromin @sourbbyxo

@hvnares @ephmeraloblivion @lost-seraphiim @quokka-ina @jesuschrist2006

@stoned-anime-babe @qatiee @shadowsingers-redhood @alycat171

@21-princess

@xileonaaaa @rylerboi @blurryperrtymoonlight @mrcleans4headwrinkle @accidentpronedork

@exquisitenesss @miniatureempathknightpony @afterlife11

I love the idea of a Support Course Izuku who was always aspiring toward that goal. Little kid Izuku meets Bakugou and is like hmm. But then he finds out his parents are fashion designers, which is sort of similar to making hero costumes, and suddenly he wants to hang out all the time. All Might rescues him from the slime villain, and All Might is like, "I am here!" and Izuku is all, "You are here! David Shield's partner! Wow!"