#pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

The Cardinal Rule

Pairing: Hawks/Gender Neutral Reader

Rating: Teen+

Tags: Romantic Comedy, Bird Puns, Ritual Blood Letting, Blood and Injury, Descriptions of Surgical Procedures, Vomit, The Teachings of Karl Marx

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A story where Hawks learns that while humans might be awed by his flying skills, the bird population is decidedly less impressed.

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"The birds are refusing to work until their demands are met," you explained, trying to subtly slide your body between Hawks and the birds who were quite literally calling for bloodshed.

"Which are?" Hawks asked as he lifted the bottle of water to his mouth and took a long sip.

"They, ah, want you held accountable for your numerous bird crimes."

Hawks abruptly choked, water spurting from the corner of his lips as he attempted to swallow the remaining liquid as he sputtered helplessly.

"My what?" He coughed, thumping solidly on his chest with a closed fist.

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Continue Reading below or follow the link to Ao3!

The air inside the studio was stifling; hot from the numerous bodies crammed into one room and the too-bright spotlights shining down onto the immaculately styled set pieces.  The entire thing looked like something your Art History Professor would have gushed over, the words ‘Brutalistic’ and ‘Industrial’ echoing through your head in their booming voice.  And you understood this set design just about as much as you understood that entire unit in school- pretty much not at all.  

But it wasn’t your job to understand the aesthetic appeal of the bone white pillars jutting out from the concrete floor at harsh angles.  Your job was to mind the birds.  

You liked your job at the bird rehabilitation center well enough and found it soothing most days.  Getting to spend your days caring for sick and infirmed birds was emotionally rewarding as well as lucrative.  It turns out that Ornithologists were very willing to shell out the big bucks to have someone with an Avian Communication Quirk on their payroll.  You had cemented yourself as an irreplaceable employee when you single handedly turned a failing breeding program around by informing the lead scientist that the female bird wasn’t receptive to the male’s advances because she thought he didn’t groom himself well enough.  One emergency bath later and the courtship proceeded without a hitch.  Last you heard the endangered pair was happily raising their forth successful brood.     

The only part of your work you didn’t like was what you were forced into doing today; accompanying the birds on sojourns outside of the rescue facility.  Schools loved to have the birds visit as they were a good distraction for the children that allowed the harried teachers to catch their breaths and chug a cup of coffee while your feathered companions dazzled the students with their aerial acrobatics.  And even though those bouts of public speaking absolutely wracked your nerves, you would happily subject yourself to a dozen school assemblies if it meant escaping the hell that was waiting stand-by at a Pro Hero photo shoot.

Pro Heroes, by the nature of their work, had unpredictable schedules at best and were unreachable at worst, leaving the support and PR people who orbited around them in a perpetual state of limbo.  In general, you found lateness to be deeply inconsiderate of everybody’s time and energy, but it was a social faux paus to call Heroes out on their tardiness.  They were usually late due to being called out for emergencies and rescues, so chiding them for missing appointments was a surefire way to come off looking like an absolute jerk to the public at large.  

But internally you can, and often do, curse them for keeping you waiting in a sweltering studio for hours as your birds grew increasingly agitated and your stock of treats ran low.  

“Hot," a brilliant red cardinal complained, hopping into the bowl of water you had placed at the bottom of his cage. 

“I know, buddy.  Hold on just a little longer, okay?”

“Too many suns,” one of the hawks complained, ducking her head beneath her wing to block out the blinding glow of the stand lights.  

“There sure are.  Do you want me to put a blanket over your cage?”

“Yes,” she agreed readily, shifting her weight from foot to foot in irritation as pulled out a dark blue blanket and draped it over the side of her cage that faced the lights.

A frazzled looking assistant darted your way, hand pressed to the earpiece of their headset as she took in the newest bout of information being relayed.

"Hawks is on-site now.  He's just about done in wardrobe and then he'll make his way here," the assistant said, her eyes frantically scanning over the clipboard in her hands.

"Thank goodness," you sighed, turning to the cages that housed the birds.  "Are you all ready?"

"Leave?  Leave now?" The cardinal chirped, bouncing excitedly in his bath.

"Unfortunately, no.  We still have work to do."

"Not ready then," the cardinal huffed petulantly, puffing up his bright red body as he sank down into his pool. 

"C'mon, it won't be too bad!  If you all follow directions I bet the photos will go really fast and we'll be out of here in no time!" You assured the tiny red bird, crouching down to give him your full attention as he flapped his wings too fast and sent water sloshing out of his pool.  

"Treat would make me ready," the cardinal said slyly, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to distract you from his manipulations by reminding you of how cute he was.

"Treat?" The overwhelmed hawk inquired, peeping her head from around her shroud.

"Treat?" A dove cooed, nudging its friends awake who immediately joined in with the call for snacks.

"Treat! Treat!" The birds chirped and squawked, hitting their wings against the side of their cage and creating a loud enough ruckus that people were beginning to send irritated glances your way.

"Okay!," you hissed in capitulation, pulling a handful of dried crickets out of a paper bag.  "But this is the last of the treats I brought with me, so you all need to behave and make it through the rest of the photoshoot.  Got it?"

"Yes, yes," the cardinal readily agreed, bouncing along the bottom of his cage and picking up the grasshopper in its beak, chomping happily.  "Be good.  Promise."

The cardinal was a dirty rotten liar.  

Snacks had bought you a tentative peace that lasted until the moment Hawks arrived on set.  The birds took one look at the Hero and promptly began screeching, startling everyone in the studio and causing more than one person to drop their cup of coffee in surprise.  Hawks took to air, landing on top of one of the pillars and artfully arranged himself according to the Photographer's instructions while your birds went wild; hurling insults his way.

"Rude!  Rude bird!" The cockatoo called, flairing his crest in displeasure.

"Bad flier!" The doves chastised together with sharp clicks of their beaks.

"Miscreant!" The cardinal called, easily the most wound up of the bunch, fluffing up his feathers to look threatening.  "Criminal!"

"Hey, guys!  Shhhh, you have to quiet down!" You begged, aware of all the judgemental glares settling onto your back like a physical weight.  "You promised you'd behave!"

"No behave!  Need justice!" The cardinal called, hopping up onto his perch and opening his bright orange beak to let out a high pitched chirp. " JUSTICE!"

"Justice!" The rest of the birds echoed. Justice!  Justice!  Justice!"

"We're ready for the birds on set!" The assistant informed you as she motioned over her shoulder to where the photographer circled around Hawks, snapping a few last minute test shots.

"Right," you coughed nervously. "About that."

"What do you mean the birds refuse to work?!" The photographer roared in your face, his cheeks colored a splotchy red.  "They're birds! "

"Yes, they are.  And they refuse to take pictures with Hawks."

"All of them?" The photographer scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face, a vein at his temple pulsating in time with his thundering heartbeat.  

"Seems like," you admit with a sheepish shrug. "It's pretty unusual for them to agree on anything like this.  The raptors and the songbirds are almost always at odds with each other."

"I'm so glad they've managed to achieve bird peace instead of doing, oh, I don't know;  WHAT I'VE PAID FOR THEM TO DO!" The photographer bellowed through gritted teeth, pulling out fistfuls of his already thinning hair in frustration.  

"No price on honor!" The cardinal chirped boldly, the other birds supporting their tweeted proclamation with chirps of their own.  

"What's going in here?" A passing member of the crew asked, hoisting a coiled extension cord up onto his shoulder.

"The birds are uh- unionizing, apparently?  And have decided to go on strike," you explain.

"Really?" The man said, eyes wide in astonishment as he gave the birds a thumbs up and a wide smile. "Right on, little dudes!  Fight the power!"

"Yes!  Fight!  Fight!" The cardinal called.

"Fight!" The birds chorused.

"Bite!  Bite!" The cardinal screeched as he snapped his beak in demonstration.  

"You uh, might want to get away from the cages," you warn the photographer.  "They're starting to call for violence."

The photographer turned away from the cages and appeared to take cleansing breaths before he noticed the crew orderly filing out of the studio.

"Wait!" The photographer called out to the workers. "Where are you going?"

"Sorry man, but we don't cross picket lines," the man holding the extension cord explained as he grabbed a soggy donut from  craft services table on his way out the door.  The crew's act of solidarity seemed to please the birds, who let out  joyous calls in return.  

"We are flock!" The cardinal cheered.  "The flock is strong!"

"I'm so going to get fired for this," you mutter despondently as the birds began flipping over their feeders, spilling seeds and slices of fresh fruit across the studio floor.  

"So what's the excitement over here all about?" Hawks asked, finally curious enough about the disruption your birds were causing to come over and investigate.  

"So, um.  The birds are upset, " you begin warily, hyper aware that the birds were screeching louder and louder with every step Hawks took towards their cages.  

"I can see that," he smirked as he twisted the lid off of a bottle of water, the lopsided grin perfectly at home on his scruffy face.

"And they're refusing to work until their demands are met," you explained, trying to subtly slide your body between Hawks and the birds who were quite literally calling for bloodshed.  

"Which are?" Hawks asked as he lifted the bottle of water to his mouth and took a long sip.

"They, ah, want you held accountable for your numerous bird crimes."

Hawks abruptly choked, water spurting from the corner of his lips as he attempted to swallow the remaining liquid as he sputtered helplessly.

"My what? " He coughed, thumping solidly on his chest with a closed fist.

"Crimes!  So many crimes!" The cardinal squawked.  "Criminal!"

"Villain!  Bad Hawk!" The hawk supplied, eager to distance herself from this other hawk's misdeeds.  

"You seem to have acquired a terrible reputation amongst the bird population in the city.  They're calling you a Villain," you explain ruefully, desperately wishing that you had woken up dead this morning so you could have avoided this entire mortifying ordeal.  

"Tell me- tell me everything, " Hawks sputtered, staring intensely at the rioting birds with wide golden eyes.

Since you were the only person who could understand both human and avians, you were selected to mediate by default.  The birds, unsurprisingly, chose the rabble-rousing cardinal as their representative.  

"I'm going to let you out of the cage now," you told the cardinal, unlocking the door to his enclosure.  "No funny business or you're going right back in, understood?"

"Yes," the cardinal groused, hopping up and down to psych himself up for confronting the number one bird-sona non grata.  

"That means no biting."

"..."

"Agree not to bite or I'm leaving you in the cage."

"Fine," the cardinal agreed, puffing his feathers up in irritation.  "No bite."

"Took him a while to agree to that rule," Hawks murmured uneasily, eyeing the cardinal's sharp orange beak.  

"Yeah, they made up a song about biting you earlier and I think it got him really excited about the prospect."

"Oh, wow," Hawks said, a genuine thread of amazement lacing through his words.  "They've really put a lot of effort into hating me."

"Yeah, they really have.  It's super impressive, right?"

"No chatting!" The cardinal admonished, squeezing your finger with his tiny feet; talons prickling your skin.  "List his crimes!  Prepare for judgment!"

"Right, okay.  So, their biggest complaint is that you're an inconsiderate flier," you begin, keeping an eye on the cardinal perched on your finger as he nods along to your words.

"Inconsiderate how?"

"For starters, you often fly through a flock.  That makes them consider you a predator and unnecessarily stresses them out.  It's an especially big deal during the spring when the females are incubating."

"I see," Hawks murmured, scratching his chin thoughtfully.  

You listened closely to the clarifying chirp of the cardinal before addressing Hawks once more.  "He says that you will also position yourself at the front of a flock, putting yourself in charge of navigation and end up leading them wildly off course."

"I had no idea," Hawks admitted with a sigh, grimacing under the beady glare of the cockatoo. "I was just enjoying their company while I flew."

"And that's kind of the underlying issue here," you point out, running a calming finger over the fluffy crest of feathers atop his head.  "You're playing on their field but totally ignoring the rules of the game and just sowing chaos everywhere you fly."

"I feel like a complete jerk," Hawks admitted, moving his head so he was face to face with the feisty cardinal.  "I'm sorry for causing trouble and making such a mess of things.  I'll be much more conscious about how I fly in the future."

The cardinal was quiet on your finger, mulling over Hawk's words thoughtfully.

"Tell him more."

"Really?" You groan.  "Can't you just accept his apology and move on?"

"Hear all crimes!  Then retribution!"

"Okay, so are you ready to hear the rest?"

"There's more? " Hawks asked incredulously, staring at the cardinal with wide eyes.  

"You better grab a seat," you advise him with a sigh.  "It's a long list of complaints."

To his immense credit, Hawks sat through the translated tongue lashing with rapt attention, taking in each and every criticism with a solemn nod of his head.  He was accused of everything from taking up all the best perches to not sharing the snacks he brought up onto rooftops with him.  That one seemed especially egregious in the eyes of the birds, as the mere mention of unshared snacks past sent them into a wild screeching fit it took you minutes to calm them down from.

"Last crime," the cardinal proclaimed grandiosely, as though he was delivering a sermon from a pulpit and not yelling at an increasingly despondent man while perched on your finger.  "Duck got head stuck in fence.  Hawks took picture and laughed!"

"You laughed and took a picture of a duck that got its head stuck in a fence?"

"Yeah," Hawks winced, fingers running across the grooves in his water bottle nervously.  "I freed them afterwards though!"

"After you laughed at them and took a picture, you mean?" You huffed, completely siding with the birds in this particular instance.  

"Crimes done.  Retribution now!"   The cardinal chirped, sending the rest of the birds into an uproar of wildly flapping wings and agreeing squeaks.  

"What's he saying?"

"He's, uh, calling for retribution."

"Feathers and blood!" The cardinal demanded.

"Feathers and blood!" The doves warbled in agreement.

"They're calling for your feathers and blood," you informed the Hero.   

"And snacks!" The hawk added, the rest of the birds silent as they considered the added request.

"Yes, snacks!" The cardinal chirped in triumph as the rest of the birds joined him in his chant. "Snacks!  Snacks!  Snacks!"

"Feathers, blood…and snacks," you clarify, watching anxiously as Hawks' brow furrowed deeply in thought.

"I agree to your terms," Hawks said, holding out his extended index finger in front of the cardinal.  "Blood and feathers now, with snacks to be delivered later.  Deal?"

The cardinal, being a legitimately good representative for his species, turned to briefly confer with the rest of the birds before hopping from your finger onto Hawks'; the closest approximation to a handshake as they could get.  

"It's a deal," you smiled brightly to Hawks, who returned your brilliant grin with one of his own that set off sharp pangs of nervousness in your belly.  It had been easy to ignore how handsome he was while you were busy trying to quell a feathery uprising; but now that the panic that had been crashing through your body was abating, your brain had apparently decided you had more than enough brain cells free to contemplate how pleasing Hawks' appearance was.  

He was a bit more disheveled than he was at the start of this entire debacle, hair tousled from where he had run his hands through it in bouts of sheepishness; but he still looked put together and expertly coiffed.  You, on the other hand, could tell that an entire day spent in a sweltering room hadn't done you any favors by the way your uniform polo clung to your sweat-dampened skin.  Suddenly self conscious and desperate for a shower, you puff your chest out in a false show of bravado and do your best to move things along.  

"Alright, which do you want to do first?  The blood or the feathers?"

The birds, by and large, considered giving up feathers to be the most important act of contrition and agreed that the request for blood was mostly just a ceremonial inclusion for traditions sake.  But Hawks, determined to repent, ran one of his sharpened feathers across his forearm with no complaint; dulling the blood tipped feather and presenting it to the cardinal with a deep bow.  

The cardinal accepted the offering with a pleased chirp, taking the feather in his beak and carefully tucking it in amongst his tail feathers.  Hawks' plume, being about twice the length of the entire cardinal, trailed out comically from his tail and made him look like a far more exotic bird than he actually was.  

"Atonement!" The cardinal cried, shaking his new tail feather for his comrades to see.  

"So red!" A dove praised.

"Very shiny," the cockatoo nodded.

"Well, that's one down," Hawks said as he curled his left wing in front of his body, hands already running through his feathers as he carefully selected his next offering.  "Who's next?"

"Me! Me! Me!" The birds chirped in unison, a great many hopping up and down in their excitement to possess a colorful new treasure.  

"You don't have to give them all feathers, Hawks," you assured him as you frantically calculated how many birds you'd brought with you versus how many feathers he could probably surrender while still retaining his ability to fly.  "I know you need them for your job."

"That's true," Hawks nodded as he plucked out another feather and presented it to a brown-headed thrush.  "But I also need to hold myself accountable for my mistakes.  The birds have very generously offered me a way to make things right, and I won't take this opportunity for granted."

You didn't know what to say so you opted instead for silence, watching intently as he methodically worked his way through the collected cages; respectful and solemn as he repeated the feather presentation for each and every bird.  

The photographer had been thrilled when he returned to set and found Hawks in place on set, lounging bonelessly across the pillars with a collection of raptors perched around him.  That excitement faded quickly when he saw the bare patches in Hawks' normally full wings, a far cry from the picture perfect style he'd be envisioning.

Hawks had simply run an admiring finger across the bright red feather tucked into an eagle's wing and proclaimed that 'He liked it better this way' and that was that.  The photographer began barking orders and the crew jumped into action, adjusting light positioning and turning on a wind machine to ruffle everyone's feathers just so.  

The rest of the shoot went by smoothly, and in no time at all you were refilling water dishes and loading up the cages into the back of the large box truck with the bird rescues' name and phone number stenciled onto the back.  You cranked the AC up to the highest setting and sank down into the faux leather driver's seat, enjoying the merciless onslaught of frigid air on your overheated skin as you buckled up.  

Peering into your side mirror, you were startled by the presence of the Number Two Hero illuminated in the red glow of your taillights.  He was leaning out of the studio exit, a small smile tugging at his lips and a hand held up in farewell while you shifted the truck into drive and rolled out of the parking lot.  The sharp shrill of birds complaining as you hit a pothole pulled your attention back to the road and away from Hawks' golden eyes; glowing brightly from the shadows.     

It was hard not to think about Hawks as you cruised along on the empty highway, so you allowed yourself a brief flight of fancy; reminiscing about the scant distance between your bodies and the tangy redolence of his cologne.  

It would be a good story to regale your coworkers with over drinks and to pull out at parties when you needed to impress someone; the tale of a bird rebellion and how Hawks managed to both literally and figuratively soothe the birds' ruffled feathers.  A once in a lifetime meeting that you would think back fondly on, made ever more precious by the knowledge that such a thing would never occur again.

It wasn't like you to answer your personal phone at work, but it also wasn't something that had honestly ever happened before.  Your family knew your work schedule and your friends all belonged to the very reasonable school of thought where they would rather drink poison than talk on the phone, so any communication from them would arrive in text form.  Curious, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and swiped to answer; stomach plummeting to your feet when your camera booted up and you belatedly realized you'd accepted a request to video chat.  

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit, " you swore, reaching to press the disconnect button as Hawks' beaming face appeared on screen.

"Hey there!," he greeted cheerily, face disappearing from view as he momentarily fumbled with his phone.  

"Hawks? " You croak in disbelief, quickly examining your appearance in the small facecam and hurriedly knocking a chunk of dried mealworm out of your hair. 

"That's what they call me!"

"Are you- is everything okay?" You manage to stammer out, impressed that you managed to say actual words and not a series of confused grunts.  

"Everything is fine!  I was just calling to thank you for all your help a few weeks back," he explained, the camera drifting off to the side to show off the sprawling city skyline.  Wherever Hawks was, he was up high.  "Word has been getting around to all the birds around the city and I've noticed a definite shift in their demeanor."

"Oh?  How so?"

"Well, for starters, they've stopped dive bombing me mid-flight.  And they aren't pooping on that statue of me downtown nearly as much as they used to.  Oh!  And a couple days ago a crow brought me a couple of soda tabs," Hawks said proudly as he reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out a leather cord with some aluminum pieces tied into the middle.  "So I turned them into a necklace!"

"Very stylish," you complimented sincerely, thinking about the box of bird gifted trinkets you had at home and how much each of those shiny bits of metal meant to you.  

"And I've taken to carrying around some food for them- bird seed and raisins, mostly; so we can all hang out and eat together!"

"It really sounds like things have turned around for you.  I'm glad."

"They really have," Hawks nodded eagerly, phone tilting off-kilter once again as a particularly strong gust blew by.  "And it's all because of you."

"I think you're definitely downplaying that cardinal's excellent negotiation tactics," you reminded him as you shuffled a few papers across the top of a nearby desk, trying to distract yourself from the sense of unease you felt under the weight of both his attention and gratitude.

"Speaking of negotiations, did the treats I sent arrive safely?  I would hate for this tentative peace we've achieved to crumble due to shipping errors."

"They did!" You assured him, spinning your phone around to point the camera at the large stack of express shipped boxes in the corner.  "The birds were very excited when they arrived, but now that they know we have such a huge backlog they just keep bugging me about getting snacks all the time."

"Sorry about that.  But sacrifices must be made in the name of peace," Hawks shook his head sadly.  

"I think you're a bit more knowledgeable about sacrifices than I am.  Are your replacement feathers coming in alright?"

"They've already fully grown back in, see?" He tilted his camera to landscape and extended one wing out to the side, fluffing his feathers to show off how nicely they'd filled in.

"Woah," you whistled in appreciation, cutting off the sound abruptly when you saw his cheeks flush, realizing how inappropriately he had taken your display of awe.  "That's ah- really fast for full regrowth."

"That's sort of my thing, you know.  Being fast," he smirked proudly before he suddenly froze, cheeks reddening even further as he seemed to sink his face down into the collar of his coat. "Well, uh- most of the time at least.  Sometimes I'm slow though.  When I want to be.  I can be reeeeally slow."

Deciding to ignore his floundering since he had so graciously let your own bout of verbal idiocy pass unmentioned, you frantically gazed around the room and found the perfect segue to shift your conversation back into neutral waters.

"Do you want to see what they did with your feathers?"

"They kept them?" Hawks asked, voice hitching in excitement.

"More than that; they made art with them," you cheerfully explained, flipping the phone around to show off the wreath hanging in the window a handful of weaver birds had worked together to craft; Hawk's brilliant red feathers tucked and woven amongst reedy pieces of grass and straw.  "Since there weren't enough feathers for every bird here at the rescue, they thought that displaying them publicly was more fair."

"Wow," Hawks breathed, impressed by both their craft skills and sense of equitability.  "They're really taking this union thing seriously."

"You have no idea," you laughed dryly. "They're starting to talk about collecting dues. "

It was strange how quickly you became accustomed to communicating with Hawks.  Calls were a rare occurrence due to how overwhelmingly busy he was pretty much every moment of the day.  There were multiple instances where you would be texting, sending funny memes back and forth to each other, and then mere moments after his last message was sent you would see him flash across the screen in a live news broadcast.  A blur of red and beige swooping in to pull civilians out of harm's way or expertly apprehend Villains without breaking a sweat.  

Knowing how full Hawks' schedule was made you even more appreciative of that evening he'd spent with you and the birds all those weeks ago.  You had thought that the feathers were the most valuable thing he had given up that day, but you now knew that his time was an infinitely more precious commodity.  

So you treasured each moment that he chose to share with you, regardless of the form it took.  Snapshots of cute birds he'd seen on patrol, lengthy personal reviews of what had to be every fried chicken restaurant in the city, and picking up the phone whenever he was free to chat. 

Even when that call came in at four in the morning, like today.  

"You should try to eat breakfast before you crash for the night," you reminded him, tone a touch scolding because this was not the first time you'd had to remind him to make time for a meal.  

"I don't like breakfast foods," Hawks grumbled, lip stuck out in a deep pout as he trudged towards his kitchen.  

"You don't have to eat breakfast foods, you just have to eat, " you huff in exasperation, grabbing a box of cereal from your pantry, hoping that a healthy dose of peer pressure might tip the scales in your favor.  "Cold pizza was invented for pretty much this exact purpose."

"I don't think I have any pizza," Hawks muttered, prying open the double doors of his fridge and examining the contents critically.  "I think I have the stuff for a sandwich though."

"Sandwiches are good.  They meet all the necessary desperation meal requirements."

"Which are?" Hawks asked as he shoved a packet of lunch meat into the crook of his arm and sent a couple of feathers in to grab condiments so he wouldn't have to set down his phone.

"They contain calories and don't dirty up too many dishes," you explain, hip checking your own fridge closed as you grab a carton of milk.  "Handfuls of cheese you eat over the sink are also a classic choice."

"What are you eating?"

"Cereal," you say, holding up your bowl of puffed grains next to your face for his inspection.

"Ugh, gross," he says, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"I'm going to toss some berries on top."

"That doesn't make the cereal better, that just makes the berries worse, " he complained as he squirted a generous serving of mayonnaise across a slice of bread, paused, and then squeezed on some more.

"Hey, now!  If I wanted this level of judgment before the sun came up I would talk to my Grandma instead," you huffed, shoving a spoonful of cereal into your mouth and bringing the microphone closer to your jaw to subject Hawks to the loudest crunching sounds you could manage.  

"I- sorry," he sighed, shoulders drooping in exhaustion.  "I didn't mean to be so prickly.  Today was…really rough."

"I know," you said soothingly.  "I saw the News.  Even went to bed early because I thought you might call."

"Thank you," he says, voice small so it could slip past the emotions welling in his throat.  "For picking up." 

"Anytime, Hawks," you assured him, eyes darting to the time displayed in the upper corner of your phone screen.  "Literally."

You, 11:45am

"Hey, Hawks?  I have a question."

Hawks, 11:52am

"Of course!  What's up?"

You, 11:53am

"I've been wondering for a while now- how did you get my phone number?"

Hawks, 1:15pm

"I saw the rescue logo on the back of the truck when you were leaving the photo shoot."

"Called them up and told them how impressed I was with your professionalism and how I wanted to thank you personally."

You, 1:18pm

"And they just gave you my number?!"

Hawks, 1:20pm

"Yep.  Major breach of confidentiality.  You might want to look into that, actually.  

"They didn't ask me to verify my identity or anything!"

You, 1:22

"Gotta go.  I need to send a strongly worded letter to HR."

Hawks, 1:25

"Make sure to start it with a 'To Whom It May Concern'; let them know you really mean business!"

The familiar jingle of Hawk's custom ringtone only sounded for a moment before you were able to swap which hand was holding onto your grocery basket and fish your phone out of your back pocket. 

"Hey, there!" Hawks greeted, smile strained as he waved his arm around frantically at something off screen.  "Can I- Ugh!  Ask for a favor in a- argh!  Professional capacity?"

"Uh, sure?" You agreed, re-shelving a can of soup you were having second thoughts about.

"Great!" Hawks shouted in relief, pulling a flailing pigeon into frame, reeling back momentarily as he took a wing straight to the face.  "This little cutie has been following me for hours , trying to- oof!  Get my attention and I'm starting to get very curious as to their underlying motivation."

"Maybe she just wants an autograph?" You joke, snorting in amusement as Hawks dodged another hit from the distressed bird.

"I'll give her whatever she wants if she just- ugh ! Stops hitting me!"

You whistled shrilly, gaining the attention of nearby shoppers and the pigeon on Hawks' end; the bird stilling in his hands at your call.  "Hey, little pigeon.  What's going on?"

The pigeon launched into a series of urgent coos, head bobbing along frantically with her cries. 

"Are you sure?" You asked, eyes wide as she cooed in confirmation, heaving a relieved sigh that her message had been successfully conveyed.  

"What?  What is it?" Hawks asked anxiously, cradling the bird snugly to his chest now that she wasn't a thrashing mass of beak and talons.  

"She says, ah-," you pause, looking around at all the shoppers lingering about you with prying eyes.  Flashing them a wobbly smile, you quickly shuffle off towards the other end of the store, dropping your voice to a whisper in a bid for some level of confidentiality.  "She says that she knows where they're hiding all the drugs?" 

It's quiet for a moment as Hawks peers down at the pigeon in his hands with comically wide eyes before he shifts into a more professional demeanor; shooting a too-bright smile at you through his phone.  

"I've gotta' go now!  Bye!"

Your phone kicks you back to your home screen as he hangs up, leaving you staring at your phone; dumbfounded by the abrupt turn of events.  

A few days passed before you heard from Hawks again, and when the next call came in he wasn't alone.

"This is Cookie," he beamed as he proudly introduced the familiar pigeon perched on his shoulder.  "Get it?  Because you can't spell 'Cookie' without 'coo'?  And she's a pigeon? And pigeons-"

"-pigeons say 'coo'. Yeah, I get it," you groan miserably.  After years working at the rescue you had limited patience for bird jokes and were pretty sure you had heard them all hundreds of times by this point.  Unfortunately for you, Hawks seemed to have acquired puns as a second language and was determined to impress you with his fluency.  

"Anyway, it turns out Cookie has a real knack for surveillance.  She led me right to a massive distribution center that was operating right under our noses."

"Is it okay for you to be telling me all of this?"

"Probably not!" Hawks laughed, bringing a finger up to give Cookie an affectionate scratch at the side of her head.  "Anyway, I hope you weren't too attached to that dim sum place downtown.  It was totally a drug front."

"Wait- the one with the little ginger dumplings?" You gasped in dawning horror.

"The very same."

"And the chef-?"

"The ringleader of the entire operation, I'm afraid."

"God dammit!"

"So they pack me up, ship me across the country to some far flung zoo to talk to their penguin in person because he's, and I quote, 'camera shy'.   And do you know how that little gremlin thanked me?" You ranted into your phone, freshly clad in an old pair of pajamas with your skin still dewy from your flesh-searingly hot shower.  

"He threw up on you, didn't he?" Hawks said, poorly disguising his restrained laughter with a forced cough.

"He threw up on me !" You screeched, throwing your hands up into the air as you fell backwards onto the couch, accidentally smacking yourself in the face with the corner or your phone during your uncontrolled plummet. "Ouch!"

"You alright?" Hawks asked, voice muffled from your speaker being pressed into the couch cushions.

"Yes.  And no?" you sigh, rubbing a fist across the rising welt on your temple while you propped your phone up on your stomach, providing Hawks with the most unflattering viewing angle of your face as possible. "Just wishing things were different, I guess?"

"What sorts of things?" Hawks asked quietly, the distant beacons on airplane wings blinking methodically in the night sky behind him; false stars in a pollution filled sky.  

"I don't know.  Everything?  I wish I had a different job, one where penguins didn't vomit on me.  Or a different Quirk.  Just- an entirely different life, sometimes."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I thought," Hawks paused, allowing himself to carefully select his words.  "I thought you liked your job?"  

"I do.  Most of the time, at least.  But it also feels like I never really have a choice, you know?  Like, what else could I really do with a Quirk like mine?"

"You could always not use your Quirk," he said, gaze intensely focused away from his phone on some distant point on the horizon you couldn't see.  "Get a job doing something entirely different."

"I didn't want to when I was a kid- use my Quirk, I mean.  I wanted to be a doctor.  And a best-selling author.  And a ninja."

"Quite the triple threat."

"Yeah," you chuckled, thinking back on all the crayon drawings you had made, scribbles of a distant future that would never come to pass.  "But everyone said it would be a waste to not use my natural-born talent, especially since it's a moderately useful one."

"I've always wanted to be Hero.  For as long as I can remember, that's always been my dream," Hawks stated flatly, with the same lackluster affect of someone discussing the weather; an automatic response honed through years of systematic repetition.  "But I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he swallowed thickly, focusing his attention back onto you; eyes glistening strangely with reflections of the city lights.

"It's hard being… pigeonholed into a profession."  

"Hawks, noooooo," you groan piteously.  "We were having a moment!  And you ruined it!"

"I'm sorry!" He lied, head thrown back as he cackled.  

"I'm hanging up now," you grumbled, more amused than you were irritated but determined not to let Hawks know that.  

"Don't go!  I'll be lonely without you!"

"Cookie will keep you company.  Won't you, girl?" 

At the mention of her name, the pigeon poked her head out from where she was nestled inside of Hawks' collar, cooing her agreement.

"I still can't believe you commissioned a tiny visor for her," you snorted in delight at the miniature replica of Hawks' headset perched on top of Cookie's beak.  

"What?  She needed it!" Hawks defended, drawing his collar shut and pulling Cookie in more snugly towards his chest.  "Her eyes were drying out when I flew too fast!"

"Uh-huh.  Sure they were."

"They were!  And besides, she likes wearing it," he insists petulantly before he is carried away by a sudden wave of uncertainty.  "Right?"

"She does," you assure him. "Cookie really loves being with you, Hawks."

"Really?" He whispered, staring down at the bird in awe, who cooed happily and nuzzled her head into his chin.  

A quiet moment stretched on between you, silent except for the sound of your breathing and the distant wail of a car alarm.  

"For the record, I think your Quirk is amazing," Hawks said sincerely.  "You have this entire extra world you get to communicate with.  That's pretty special."

"I guess," you say with a sigh, pushing up into a sitting position with the naive aspirations of mustering up the energy to make it to bed in the next hour or two.  "But it's not like they're particularly great conversationalists.  Once Spring rolls around I just have to deal with listening to hundreds of voices outside my window screaming about how horny they are for weeks on end."

"You prefer a more subtle seduction method then?" Hawks asked, tone playful and also somehow entirely inappropriate.  

"Just a smidgen," you laugh nervously, steadfastly ignoring the frantic beating of your heart.  

"I'll make a note of that."

You had grown so used to looking at Hawks through your phone screen that seeing him in person, bursting through the doors of the rescue, was as startling as having ice shoved down the back of your shirt.  And that feeling of alarm was quickly upgraded to absolute panic by the fact that he was covered in blood splatter and cradling Cookie's limp and twisted body in his hands.  

"HELP!" Hawks yelled, eyes darting wildly around the room as he searched for assistance.  There wasn't even time for a single breath between Hawks spotting you and then him suddenly being at your side; a gust of air heralding his arrival before your eyes could even begin to try to focus on where he had been.    

"Please!  You have to help!  Cookie she- she's hurt," Hawks pleaded, his eyes wild as he cradled his injured friend to his chest.   

"Let me see," you ordered firmly, prying open Hawks' shaking hands to get a better look at the bird.  

"Cold," Cookie warbled weakly when Hawks' hands were pulled away from her body.

"Shh, I know sweet girl," you said soothingly, lifting her as carefully as you could into your own grasp.  

"Hawks hurt?  Hawks okay?"

"What is it?" Hawks asked anxiously.  "What's she saying?"

"She wants to know if you're hurt."

"No," Hawks assured her, voice cracking as he ran soothing fingers across a patch of disheveled feathers between her eyes.  "I'm just fine, thanks to you."

"I need to take Cookie now, Hawks," you informed him gently, "I'll take good care of her.  I promise."

"I know," he sniffed, wiping damp cheeks onto the sleeve of his coat. "I trust you."

It was hard witnessing Hawks' desperation; seeing someone who was normally a paragon of strength so visibly shaken.  It made you scared, having to be strong and brave; to help when a Hero couldn't.  

But you could be brave, just this once.  

For Hawks' sake.  

Just like you, the rest of the staff at the bird rescue had been cherry picked to provide the highest level of Avian care possible.  So while Cookie had been grievously injured with an absolutely staggering number of blunt force fractures, there was likely no better place in the city she could have been brought to for treatment. 

Cookie had made it through numerous scans and a long operation, but you knew that was only the beginning of her struggle.  Her road to recovery would be a long one, and she would likely never be able to fly as well as she did before after having the bones in her left wing nearly ground to dust.  But you couldn't bring yourself to feel too discouraged by that bit of bad news in the face of Cookie's near miraculous survival.  

There hadn't been anything for you to do during the surgery since you didn’t possess any sort of veterinary license, but Hawks had entrusted Cookie to you and it felt wrong to just leave her.  You knew your coworkers well and had the utmost faith in their capabilities, but you'd been determined to stay there beside her should the worst have come to pass.  

So you'd tucked yourself into a corner, already overwhelmed and ready to leave before the scalpel had even made its first incision. You’d watched as they cut and tugged and stitched; blood running and bones popping and Quirks glowing.  And dear lord, the smells-  

It was the absolute worst thing you’d ever witnessed in your life.

But Hawks had trusted you with this; to be where he couldn’t.  

And you wouldn't let him down.  

Hawks sprang up from his stolen chair behind the reception desk as you stumbled back to the front of the building, heartbeat thundering as images from the surgery clung to the inside of your eyelids; replaying with gruesome clarity every time you blinked.

"How is she?" He asked breathlessly, eager to hear the news but dreading the likely outcome.  

“Cookie made it through surgery,” you said, voice too loud as you attempted to make yourself heard over the ringing in your ears.  “She’ll survive.”  

“Oh, thank God,” Hawks gasped in relief, his words distant and muffled.  “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, waving off his gratitude right before you bent forward and threw up all over his boots.  

You, 2:14am

“Once again: I’m so sorry about the vomit.”

Hawks, 2:15am

“I told you, it’s fine!  Stop apologizing.”

You, 2:15am

“Never.  I am going to be apologizing about this for the rest of my life.”

“Every time we meet I’ll be like, ‘Hey, Hawks!  How are you?  Sorry about horking on your boots that one time.’”

Hawks, 2:17am

“Listen, at least this time you were the one throwing up on a bird instead of having a bird throw up on you!"

You, 2:18am

“You’re not a bird though.”

Hawks, 2:20am

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

You, 2:21am

“I want you to be ASLEEP.” 

Hawks, 2:23am

“Best I can do is propping up my feet and chugging an energy drink.”

You, 2:24am

“That isn’t even remotely close to an acceptable substitute.”   

Hawks, 2:26am

“That’s all you’re getting.  Take it or leave it.”

You, 2:28am

"Fine.  But I'm going to tell Cookie you're not taking care of yourself."

Hawks, 2:28am

"Oh, that's low."

You, 2:29am

"I literally threw up on the Number Two Hero yesterday.  I cannot possibly get any lower than I already am.  I might as well just double down and enjoy the perks of my new bottom dweller status."

You were changing out the bedding in Cookie's cage when she saw it.  

"Hawks feathers?" She warbled excitedly at the sight of the brilliant red wreath hanging in the window.  

"Oh!  Yeah, those are Hawks' feathers all right.  Good eye."

"I see?"

"Do you want to perch there while I finish cleaning out your cage?"

"Please," Cookie cooed eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement.  It was the most energetic you had seen her since her operation and you were happy to indulge her whims.  

"Here you go," you said, lowering her gently into the inner hollow of the wreath.  Mindful of her injuries, Cookie nestled down happily into the tangle of grass and feathers.  

By the time you had sanitized everything in the cage and tucked a warm water bottle into her bed, Cookie had fallen fast asleep in the cradle of feather wreath.  Heart melting, you crept closer on silent feet and took a dozen pictures at various angles and filter settings to send to Hawks later. 

You felt a familiar weight settle on your shoulder, needle-like nails scraping for purchase against your skin as the cardinal joined you in observing Cookie's rest.

"Is this okay?" You asked, knowing how important the wreath was to all the birds in the rescue and unsure if napping spot was one of the agreed upon uses for it.  To your immense relief, the cardinal bobbed his head in affirmation. 

"From each by ability, to each by need," he chirped firmly.

"'To each by need '…?" You echo suspiciously with narrowed eyes.  "Has someone been reading Karl Marx to you again?

"The proletariat has nothing to lose but chains!"

After many weeks of worried video calls and unapproved after hours visits that your boss chose to turn a blind eye to after Hawks made a hefty donation, Cookie was ready to be released back into Hawks' care.  

"So I need you to sign these discharge papers," you tell Hawks, tapping multiple spaces on the cover page that required his initials and signature.  "Mostly just standard release stuff, detailing the treatment plan listing the dates for follow up visits, etcetera, etcetera."

"Got it," Hawks agreed, having one of his feathers sign for him since he was loath to stop cuddling with Cookie for a single instant.  

"This one says that I've informed you of all the recommended follow up care."

"Uh-huh," he grinned, happily nuzzling his nose against Cookie's beak as his feather kept scribbling.

"This one says that we cannot be held legally responsible for anything that happens to her once she leaves the rescue."

"Sure," he agreed, chuckling as Cookie nipped playfully at his jaw; feather still dutifully signing away.

"And this one is the list of demands drawn up by Cookie's union."

Hawks paused, brow furrowing as Cookie continued to pluck at his beard scruff. 

"The what now?"

Hawks paced as he read through the notes you had typed up on Cookie's behalf.  As much as the pigeon adored Hawks and couldn't wait to get back to working alongside him, the cardinal had proven himself to be an incredibly persuasive orator and managed to convince Cookie to submit a list of demands.  

"'The Union of Working Birds, henceforth to be referred to as 'The Birds of Pay'', " Hawks snorted in delight. "-'formally submit the following requests.  Number one: guaranteed housing'.  Done."

"Didn't figure you'd object to that one," you said, having helped Hawks painstakingly pick out supplies to house and care for Cookie in his apartment.  

"'Number 2: food will be provided in compensation for labor and will be appropriately calculated by bird weight and provided daily'.  No complaints there-," he murmured, voice trailing off as he continued reading as he strode around the room; drawing to a sudden halt about five pages in.  

"The demands seem to shift a bit around number forty-tree," Hawks said, clearing his throat dramatically before he began reading aloud again.  "'The Birds of Pay retain exclusive rights for requesting avian-based employment with the Hawks Hero Agency'."

"Influence works both ways, Hawks.  Just like Cookie was swayed by the cardinal's talk of worker's rights, a lot of the other birds were really impressed by the stories Cookie told about you," you explained.  "At this point, you could employ an entire flock of birds if you wanted to."

The air inside your office was the perfect temperature, the thermostat set to exactly where you liked it and not a single degree higher or lower.  The furniture selection was a bit too fancy for your liking, polished marble and smudge proof glass where you felt tile and laminate would have sufficed for a fraction of the cost.  

But it wasn't your job to understand the aesthetic design choices of Heroes.  Your job was to mind the birds.  

"Songbird 2, do you copy?" You spoke clearly into your headset listening closely to the responding chirps; eyes glued to the live video feed playing across your screen.  "We have all the footage we need.  Return to the Aviary, over."

You breathed a sigh of relief as the blackbird chirped in acknowledgement, the video feed shifting from the inside of an abandoned warehouse to a wide expanse of sky as they began to make their way back toward Hawks' agency.  It had been a long day of staking out the area of an upcoming Hero Commission raid, but Songbird 2 was the last of the scouts still deployed.  The blackbird's return would herald the end of your workday, and you were excited to finally be able to go home indulge in the carton of ice cream you'd been fantasizing about for hours.  

"Home safe," the blackbird announced as it flew in through the window that had slid open automatically at their approach; the mechanism responding to the proximity sensor built into the standard Hawks style headgear each bird was equipped with.  

"Thank goodness," you smiled, pulling off the tiny headset and visor and setting them to the side for cleaning later.  "Your food dish is filled up and waiting."

"Corn?" The blackbird asked, fluffing up its feathers in excitement.

"Why don't you go check and see?"

The blackbird flew quickly towards the cubbyhole it had claimed for its own, one of many set into the large back wall; each filled with lovingly crafted nests and bright wooden toys.  You heard the distant cry of 'Corn!' followed by a chorus of shushing sounds from the birds that had been pulled from sleep by the blackbird's delighted cry.

Shaking your head with an amused snort, you move to return to your desk to log out for the day, only to run headlong into Hawks' chest.  

"ACK!" You screeched, reeling back in surprise from the impact.

"SHHHHH!" The wall of irritated birds hissed.

"Sorry!" You whispered sheepishly, channeling your embarrassment into making the glare you leveled at Hawks extra piercing.  

"All done for the day?" Hawks asked, unmoved by your display of irritation.  

"Yep.  Everyone is back safe and sound, the surveillance footage has been submitted for review, and now all that remains is for me to clock out and head home," you said as you wandered over to your desk, dropping down into your swivel chair to exit out of the last handful of open programs you had running.  "Do you need anything before I leave?"

"Can we chat?  For just a little?" He asked as he leaned against your desk, putting far more faith in the structural integrity of the tempered glass than you do.  "We haven't really had time to talk recently."

"I know," you groaned, heaving a deep sigh as you shoved your empty water bottle into the side pocket of your work bag. "I've just been so busy getting set up here and making sure the birds are acclimating well.  And then this big stakeout dropped into my lap and it's just been so crazy-"

"Is that- are you okay here?  I know Hero work is a lot sometimes and I just-," he paused, letting out a quiet huff. "I just want to make sure you're happy here."

"I am, I think.  It's definitely more stressful than working at the rescue, but I feel like I have more purpose here?  Like I'm more than just the person who talks to birds."

"Now you're the person who talks to birds with spy gear. "

"Exactly!" you laughed.  "It's totally different."

"I'm glad you're happy," Hawks smiled, one of his real ones that crinkled his nose and made your knees a little weak.  "I've been thinking about making some personal changes myself."

"Oh? What kind of changes?"

"Something like this," he mumbled heatedly, the shift in his tone prompting you to swivel both your head and chair in his direction.  

And then suddenly, his lips were pressed to yours.  Hopelessly chapped from hours of constant flying but oh so warm against your own.  It was short and sweet, a simple sort of kiss; but it stirred up so many complex feelings you were used to keeping caged up inside your chest.  

"That's quite the change," you whispered against his lips, trying to remember the exact sequence of steps required for breathing.  

"It's been a long time coming, I think."

"I wholeheartedly agree.  But I'm ah- not so sure I should be kissing my boss?" You remark apprehensively.  "I really like both you and this job and don't want to risk losing either."

"We set you up to work as an independent contractor, so technically you're your own boss," Hawks assured you, hands clasping your waist as he moved to pull you in for a second kiss. "And even if it isn't allowed, I'd absolutely commit some bluebird- collar crimes for you."

"Hawks!" You huff, swatting at his shoulder in reprimand.  "I can't believe you just ruined our first kiss with a bird pun."

"A kiss?  No, that was just a peck ," Hawks chortled at your pained groan.  "This is a kiss."

With a firm tug Hawks pulled your body flush with his as his lips descended, and with the fresh addition of his tongue and teeth you couldn't bring yourself to mind the puns all that much anymore. 

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #pigeoncoos🕊 #mha x gender neutral reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #hawks x me #hawks x gender neutral reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x you #keigo takami x y/n #keigo takami x me

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 1

Chapter Links: One

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–-- A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Arriving in Hell had been a difficult adjustment, but you figured that was likely by design and not some personal failing on your part.  You'd stumbled out of the gates of Hell right into the aftermath of what you now know was an extermination; alone and terrified amidst the burning rubble and mutilated corpses that littered the ground.  

You were lucky in a sense, even though it didn't feel like it at the time.  Everyone is usually pretty busy in the days immediately following an invasion from Heaven, too occupied looting bodies for valuables and deleting the newly deceased from their phone's contact list to give much attention to a new arrival.  The Gates of Hell were usually swarmed by traffickers looking for new merchandise and mid-level thugs looking to make an easy deal for a soul or two, so you were able to slip through the cracks and wander the outskirts of Pentagram city largely unnoticed while most of the sinners were either still in hiding or sleeping off their celebratory hangovers.  

Initially, you stuck out like a sore thumb, clad in the baggy dress that you'd been buried in; a garment that had likely been looted from your Grandmother's closet based on the large shoulder pads and unflattering mauve color.  You figured that your family had deemed all the dresses you actually owned and liked as too inappropriate for funeral garb, which aligned with how they usually regarded your fashion choices.  The fabric was uncomfortable, starched stiff and itchy against your skin, so you didn't feel any guilt about using your newly discovered claws to shred a slit into the back of the skirt to make room for your long and incredibly poofy tail.

Upon further examination in the cracked glass of an abandoned store front, you discovered that you also now possessed a set of rounded black ears atop your head and large, dark smudges around your eyes that made it look like you'd slept with mascara on for a week straight.  

The powers that be had, apparently, found it suitable for you to spend the rest of eternity living as a raccoon.  

And while you greatly preferred your animal form to many of the other, more intimidating body shapes prowling the streets of Pentagram City, looking what most people would consider adorable wasn't necessarily a desired trait in Hell.  Wide-eyed prey animals were quick to disappear, materializing weeks later on posters outside of strip clubs and porn theaters.  

You'd darted from the predatory glances of other sinners, spending your first nights in Hell sleeping curled up behind back alley dumpsters; tearing through the freshest smelling trash bags for scraps of food with a voracity that surely made your Raccoon forefathers shed tears of pride.  

Repeatedly choosing to wander down the least sinister looking streets had inevitably led you to the heart of Cannibal Town, an antiquated borough that looked like it had been lifted straight out of the background of a classic movie.  Naively, you had assumed that the more polished appearance of buildings and fixtures meant that the area was safer than the dilapidated city center you had wandered in from.  That notion had been quickly dispelled when you stumbled across a group of middle aged women sitting on a park bench, merrily chatting as they took turns ripping hunks of flesh from an obviously human leg with their sharpened teeth.  

Thankfully, the abundance of readily available, post Extermination sinner flesh kept the cannibals well satiated and dissuaded them from making you the victim du jour.  That, and the fact that more than one cannibal had gleefully admitted to you that they found raccoon meat too gamey for their liking. 

You'd managed to secure a job fairly easily, with numerous businesses looking to fill vacancies from recent employee murders.  In the end, you'd settled on working at a small butcher shop a couple blocks away from the main promenade.  You'd been unwillingly charmed by the store's on the nose name, ‘Time to Kill’, and the fact that it supplemented your meager paycheck by providing you with a small room above the storefront to live in.  

Hal, the owner of the store, was a heavy-set man with a bushy mustache that wouldn't look out of place attached to a broom handle.  He'd been admittedly skeptical about your potential as a butcher when they had to tuck a bucket into the back room for you to throw up in after the first half-dozen times you'd hurled when breaking down your first carcass.  

But you'd slowly grow accustomed to the grizzly task, focusing on the fact that you were cutting up meat and ignoring that it was likely human in origin.  Hal was pleased by your hard-working nature, but mostly he was thrilled by the fact that you didn't help yourself to a five-finger discount like the rest of his employees did.  

“Seriously,” Hal had said, his mustache twitching in displeasure .  “They're eatin’ all the fingers!”

Day after day passed without much distinction, working from sunup ‘til sundown hacking up bodies for pennies on the dollar.  It wasn't much of a living, but since technically you weren't even living at all, you did your best to be content with your lot in death.  

After all, it was your discontent in life that had landed you here in the first place.  

And if waking up in literal Hell wasn't a wake up call to turn over a new leaf you didn't know what was.  

You were coming up on the first anniversary of your arrival in Hell and the citizens of the Pride Ring were all in a tizzy trying to stock up on supplies to last through the impending Extermination.  Drug dealers were working double shifts to keep up with demand and the liquor stores had long since sold out of their top brands and had switched to selling bathtub gin to supply their customers with.

The line outside of Time to Kill was already wrapped around the block by the time you had flipped the deadbolts, barely managing to escape being crushed by the door as it crashed open; a densely packed group of cannibals rushing inside.  You'd fled from the crowd into the back workroom, taking up your post at a carving station with a cleaver in hand, ready to do your part to supply the hungry masses.

The hours bled together as you skinned and chopped, filleted and ground; so focused on the tasks before you that you didn't realize your coworker had been calling your name until they slapped their hand firmly down onto your shoulder.

“You okay?” They asked, glancing at your dewy face with concern.

“Oh- yeah, I'm alright,” you assured them, placing your cleaver down across the cutting board and wiping your bloody hands on a nearby towel.  “What's up?”

“It's your turn up front,” he said, gesturing towards the front of a store with his stubby thumb.  “Ms. Rosie is here.”

“Ms. Rosie?”

“Yeah, she's the Overlord here in Cannibal Town,” your coworker explained, elbowing you out of the way to take your place at the cutting station.  “Fresh Meat deals with the Overlords- shop rule.”

“Oh,” you murmured nervously, wandering over to the sink to wash your hands.

“Might want to hurry up, there!” one of the other workers called over her shoulder as she dropped a bunch of bone fragments into an awaiting bin.  “Your chance of survival decreases every minute you keep an Overlord waiting!”

You slammed the handle of the faucet to the off position and quickly took off to the front counter, your coworkers laughing raucously at your expense while you frantically wiped your hands dry on your blood-spattered apron.

The politics of Hell were still largely unfamiliar to you.  But even though you did your best to keep your head down and nose in your own business, you'd gleaned a little knowledge from snippets of overheard conversation in the butcher shop.  You weren't entirely sure what Overlords did exactly, but you knew that in order to become one you had to be powerful.

So it was with great trepidation that you stepped into the front of the store, doing your best to hide how absolutely terrified you were, but knowing your stiff legged gait and tight smile likely gave you away.  

The tall, elegant form of Ms. Rosie wasn't what you'd been expecting.  While dressing up was the norm in Cannibal Town, Rosie took it to a new level; looking as though she never let a fabric less expensive than silk grace her form.  But despite the absolutely enchanting picture her elegance painted, the aura of raw power she exuded prickled your skin and caused your tail to poof up in an instinctual, and utterly useless, bid for intimidation.  

“Well, look at you!” Rosie drawled, her dark eyes widening in delighted surprise as you approached the counter.  “It's been a while since we've gotten someone new in town.  Where've you been hiding, sweetheart?”

“Uh - my room, mostly,” you manage to stammer out, nervously smoothing down your ruffled tail fur.  

“That's a real shame, keeping a cute face like yours all cooped up!” Rosie cooed.  “How long ya’ been living in my part of the city?”

“Nearly a year now, Ma'am.”

“A whole year? ” Rosie gasped.  “You weren't kidding ‘bout keeping to yourself, huh?”

Not really knowing what else to say, you opt to helplessly shrug before reaching for an order pad and pen.  

“So, uh- what can I get for you today, Ms. Rosie?”

“What's still available?”

“I won't lie, it's pretty slim pickings right now.  But I was just working on a pretty nice looking rack of ribs if you're interested.”

“Ribs it is then,” Rosie smiled, patiently waiting as you disappeared to the backroom and returned with multiple wrapped bundles of meat, all cinched together in a stack with fraying twine.  

“Thank you, darling,” she said, passing the stack of meat to one of the well-dressed attendants waiting beside her.  “Add it to my tab, will ya’?”

“Of course, Ma'am,” you agreed readily, sliding the sale record underneath the cash register tray for Hal to deal with later.  

“Oh, and sweetheart?” Rosie called out, catching your attention, as you moved to assist the next customer in line.  “If you make it through Extermination Day, make sure to swing by and visit me for tea sometime, will ya’?  I'd really like the chance to get to know ya’ better.”

And despite every neuron of common sense and self-preservation screaming at you to decline the invitation, you gritted your teeth and quickly nodded your assent; swallowing thickly when Rosie bared her teeth in a delighted, feral smile.  

You knew better to say ‘no’ to an Overlord.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x female reader #alastor x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 1: Foolish Lover's Game

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Somnophilia, Drowning, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.

This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.

---

Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town.  He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.  

And that might actually be a bit of a problem.

---

"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin.  You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.  

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest.  "I- can't breathe!"

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

It was an indescribably gorgeous day out in the water, the waves lapping at your shoulders were the perfect temperature to cool your sun-warmed skin without chilling you.  The sky was a solid bright blue with no variation in its hue, making it look like whoever was in charge of coloring the sky that morning just stuck a paint sample card up and called it a day. 

"We've been out here for a long time," you mentioned offhandedly, heaving yourself up onto your raft inelegantly, grunting as you struggled to get a leg up and roll onto the wildly bobbing flotation device.

"Oh!" Kirishima exclaimed, startled by how much the sun had shifted in the sky.  "Yeah, we have!  Geeze, it's already way past noon!"

Finally fully on your raft, you let out a whoosh of air as exhaustion settled  into your muscles as you sprawled out under the warm sun.  

"Do you wanna' try and squeeze up into the raft with me?" You offered, patting the narrow sliver of remaining raft at your side.  "It'll be a snug fit, but we can make it work."

"As much as I'd love to join you up there, I don't think It'd be a good fit," Kirishima admitted regretfully, his throat bobbing as his eyes over the curve of your hip where your rash guard had crept up and exposed a strip of sun-warmed skin.  

"Yeah, you're probably right," you laughed nervously, doing your best to banish the thought of the two of you on the raft together, limbs tangled up and chests pressing closer as you struggled to make room for each other.  "I'm just worried your legs are getting tired."

"Why would they be?" Kirishima asked with a furrowed brow, snagging a bit of seagrass floating by and twirling it about on his finger.

"Because you've been treading water for hours now?"

"Oh, right!  My legs are so tired right now!" He laughed uneasily, balling up and crushing the seagrass in his fist.

"Are you going to be okay to get back to shore?  I'd hate for you to get caught in a current and be too tired to make it back to shore safely," you told him, concern seeping into your tone as you rested your hand across Kirishima's muscled forearm.  

"I'll be fine," he beamed at you, gazing at you with soft eyes as he ran his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand.  "But it's sweet that you're worried about me."

Breath catching somewhere in the vicinity of your diaphragm, you smile bashfully in response, turning your hand in his to lace your fingers tightly with his as the two of you lazily paddled back towards the shore.  

It hadn't been in your plans to move in with your Grandpa after graduation, but it also hadn't been in your plans to be buried so deeply in educational debt you weren't sure you'd ever manage to pay it back.  Your chosen field was competitive and potential employers weren't calling back, so with the move-out date for student housing fast approaching you weren't left with a ton of options.  

Gran-Gran had passed a couple years prior and Gramps had done a good job carrying on without her, even though you tell by his wistful sigh when he walked by the framed photographs in the hallway that he missed her dearly.  But as he marched steadily towards the end of his life the list of things he was able to do independently dwindled with each passing month.  He'd nearly broken a hip during your final semester when he'd fallen off a chair trying to replace a burnt out bulb in his porch sconce. 

That event had gotten the family chat buzzing with concern; people expressing their displeasure that he was living alone but unwilling to personally do anything to remedy the issue.

Suddenly flush with time, you'd loaded up your car and made the long trip up to the seaside house your Grandparents had lived in for far longer than you'd been alive.  Your friends had been jealous of your relocation at first, imagining your new life to be the glamorous sort that they had seen in movies and the obligatory beach episodes of their favorite shows.  Their excitement for you had quickly evaporated when you finally arrived and started sending them photos from your new town.  

Every picture you sent was overwhelmingly brown.  Everything from the buildings to the sand and even the ocean itself was a murky russet color, a far cry from the pristine blue they had been picturing in their heads.  Even the food did its best to conform to the town's limited color palette; the beige of fresh fried seafood and potatoes that made up the majority of your meals made for a sad entry whenever you compared snapshots of meals.  

It had saddened you at first, the oppressive brown atmosphere, but in the end it had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  The blandness of your surroundings had made you notice the brilliant crimson spot bobbing across the distant waves, a beacon luring you out into the water to investigate.  

Hastily donning a life vest, you set out from shore on your trusty inflatable raft, making a horrifying discovery as you neared the mysterious red blob in the distance. 

It was a person.

Ice cold panic crashed through your veins as you frantically paddled out towards the man, the head disappearing beneath the waves for longer and longer stretches of time, your lungs aching in sympathy for how long they were staying submerged between breaths.  

After what felt like an eternity you were finally upon them, limbs shaking from adrenaline.  

"Are you okay?" You called out, chest heaving from exertion.

The man spun towards you in the water, eyes wide in shock, before he let out an ear piercing shriek and disappeared beneath the waves with a large splash.  

"Hey!" You screeched, shoving your arm down into the area where his head had submerged, bright red hair completely hidden by the murky ocean water.  "Can you hear me?  Swim towards my voice!"

Your shoulder was aching with how violently you were waving it about, desperate to make contact with the struggling man losing his fight with the sea.  

"Please," you begged whatever Gods above or below might be listening.  "Don't let me be too late- I couldn't paddle any faster!  I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!" You wailed, throwing yourself half over the side so you could reach in with your other arm, hoping to double your chances for finding the drowning man.  

"If you can hear me, just- just hold on!" You cried, tears blurring your vision as salty water splashed across your face.  "Please!  Just grab hold of my hand!  I won't let go, I promise!"

Uncountable, anxious moments passed before you felt fingers gently graze across your palm.  You surged forward, wrapping both your hands around the man's wrist and then hauling yourself backwards, pulling the man towards the surface with all your might.  

"I caught you!" You sobbed in delight when his head breached the surface.  You tugged him further up to hang off the edge of your raft while you collapsed next to him, chest heaving in exhaustion. 

"Yeah," the man gasped, looking at you with wide, dazed eyes.  "I guess you did."

That man was Kirishima Eijiro and you two had been inseparable ever since, spending lazy days floating out on the ocean and enjoying each other's company.  Sometimes you would lay quietly along the bottom of your raft, watching the horizon for the tell-tale spouting of water that heralded the arrival of a surfacing whale.  Kirishima loved to show off his diving prowess when you were in shallower waters, sliding beneath the choppy waters with a sharp grin, returning moments later with interesting shells, bits of bone, and wriggling starfish with too many legs.  

You had thought about asking him into town with you, but that notion was immediately discarded because what would you even do there?  Visit the only restaurant in town that served the exact same fried fish your Grandpa made while you withered under the judgmental gazes of the old fishermen playing dominoes at the corner table?  

Hard pass.  

So you woke up before the sun with your Grandpa, dodging all his attempts to coax you into sitting on a whoopie cushion or trying out a new bottle of perfume you knew with utter certainty was just a dolled up bottle of fart spray; and paddled out in the early morning light to spend the beginning of the day with Kirishima.  Once the sun's rays became unbearable you'd return to shore and join your Grandpa and his friends down on the dock, mending nets and patching crab pots while they doled out unsolicited life advice.  

You accepted their wisdom with a polite nod, knowing that they meant well.  Their own children and grandkids had left the town years ago and never looked back, so you were a convenient outlet for all the paternal advice they so rarely had the opportunity to dispense. 

Days crawled by, each much the same as the one before, and you tried not to think about how easily you had settled into life in this moldering town that seemed to decay before your very eyes.  

You expressed this to Kirishima; your worries and fears about identifying so strongly with a lifestyle that would likely be buried alongside the aging townsfolk.

"What will you do then?" He asked, staring intently into your eyes as his fingers tightly gripped the rope running around the side of your raft. "Will you stay?  Even when your Grandfather is gone?"

You didn't like to think of it- of your Grandpa dying.  He was such a spitfire of an old man whose playfully nature seemed immune to fading like his eyesight and hearing had. 

"I don't know.  But I think there might be more reasons to stay than to go," you whispered, returning his meaningful glance; the moment ruined by the choking squawk of seagulls passing overhead.  

"Is there anything here, do you think?  Between us?" You asked Kirishima one cloudy day, your nerves jumping as you mustered up the courage to broach the subject that had been on the forefront of your mind for weeks.

"Nah," Kirishima scoffs, waving a hand dismissively.  Your stomach twists in on itself in embarrassment and you rush to find some excuse to change the subject when Kirishima continues talking.  "There was a shark around earlier, but it's gone now."

"Wait, what?" You screech, tucking your legs up to your chest protectively.  "There was a shark and you didn't think to tell me?"

"You didn't notice?" He asks, face scrunched up in confusion. "Weird."

"It's not weird!  How would I even be able to notice something like that?  You can't see anything in this water!  Did you like, kick it or something?"

"Yes," Kirishima coughs uneasily.  "I know it was there because I kicked it.  With my feet.  Of which I have two."

"Oh God, it was that close?" You whine, burying your face into your hands while Kirishima seemed to be experiencing a delayed revelation.

"Hold on- what were you talking about before if it wasn't the shark?"

"Oh, uh," you stammer uneasily, fiddling with the zipper of the emergency bag strapped to your waist.  "Nothing!  Don't worry about it."

"Were you talking about us, us?" Kirishima groaned, rubbing a wet hand down his face with a rugged groan.  "Oh, man!  I've totally messed this up, haven't I?"

"No!  Of course not!" You quickly reassured him, still not brave enough to meet his eyes after his casual rejection.  "This is all on me.  I shouldn't have assumed- I should have realized that what I was feeling was one-sided."

"Hush," Kirishima rumbled, a gravely sort of sound that sent shivers down your spine.  Fingers ran across your forearm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake as you hesitantly lifted your gaze to his.

"Whatever feelings you have- however you might see me, believe me when I say that I feel the same."

"So, we're friends," you offer tentatively with a wobbly smile.

"The very best," Kirishima agreed readily.

"And…also something more?  If you'd like?"

"Oh, I'd like that," he grinned wildly. "I'd like that very much."

Grandpa wasn't in a good way when he woke, his joints stiffer than normal and a delay in the movement on his left side that had you contemplating loading him up into your beater of a car and driving him inland to find a doctor.  You decided to spend the morning with him, despite his colorful protests, and called down to the dock to let his friends know that he was alright.  

You could tell he was frustrated by the shaking of his hand and how often he had dropped his toothbrush in the sink, so you let him slip you a piece of chewing gum that turned your teeth black in an effort to cheer him up.  He was delighted by your coal-black smile, letting out a wheezing guffaw every time you grinned at him.  Your teeth would be a touch gray for a couple of days, but it was worth it to see your Grandpa's spirits bolstered.  

After escorting Gramps down to the docks and fetching him a large glass of water, you bid the group of old curmudgeons farewell and darted down to the shore.  Kirishima didn't own a phone, which was usual in this day and age, but not unheard of in the area.  Paranoia ran thick through people's blood and many of the old guard were happiest living as far off-grid as they could reasonably manage.  Kirishima's lack of phone wasn't typically an issue so long as you stuck to your established routine, but it did make it difficult to coordinate whenever things went awry.  

Hands cupped above your eyes, you peered out into the water and saw Kirishima's brilliant red hair far closer to shore than was typical.  He was swimming back and forth in tight circles as if he was pacing, anxiously awaiting your arrival. 

You raised your hands above your head and waved frantically to catch his attention, snorting in amusement when he finally noticed you and lost his focus,  getting pushed under water by a passing wave.  

"That yer friend?" One of the old men combing the beach with a metal detector asked.

"Sure is," you reply tightly, not thrilled by the notion of your personal life becoming this week's town gossip fodder.

"Be careful with that one," the man warned with a snort, hocking a thick brown loogie down onto the sand by your feet.  "He's got red hair.  That's bad luck out on a boat."

"Everything is bad luck out on a boat," you mutter sourly.

"Yer not wrong," the old man wheezed in amusement. "Just be careful.  The sea is greedy for beautiful things, and yer the prettiest thing that's been 'round here in a long, long time."

"Aww," you coo, savoring the way the rare compliment settled warmly in your chest.

"Don't let it go to yer head," the man sniffed, pulling his headset back over his ears as his wand started beeping enthusiastically about something further inland. "Yer just a fairer sight than the rest of us old farts, but that ain't saying much."

"I hope you find nothing but bottle caps until the day you die," you grumble peevishly, blowing a dramatic kiss out to Kirishima, who dove to catch it in midair before holding it fast to his heart.

"If only," the man sighed as he limped away. "But I ain't never been that lucky."

You were startled by your Grandpa coughing loudly while he worked on slicing up his fish fry into bite sized pieces.

"One of the boys told me they saw you out on the beach this morning," he said, dipping a small piece of fish into a heaping pile of ketchup and horseradish.  

"Of course they did.  You're all a bunch of nosey busy bodies," you huff in irritation, shoving a large spoonful of canned peas into your mouth and wincing at their lack of flavor.  

"I trust you and your judgment," Grandpa assured you as you picked up the salt shaker in the middle of the table.  "But just be careful, alright?  I've been a man for many years now and up to no good for nearly all of them."

"I will, Gramps.  Thanks for worrying," you said with a smile, giving the shaker a hearty jiggle and watching in horror as the lid fell clean off into your peas along with the entire contents of the salt shaker.

"Ya' see?" Gramps hollered, slapping his knee in delight.  "Totally untrustworthy- the lot of us!"

Your relationship with Kirishima, while good, was innocent on the best days and positively chaste on the worst.  You had vivid memories of participating in far more brazen displays of affection with your middle school boyfriend than what Kirishima seemed comfortable with.  

Wandering hands were constantly redirected to areas safely above the water line and attempts at kisses were redirected at the last moment onto turned cheeks and noses.  

You didn't mind the slow pace at first, respecting Kirishima's personal boundaries and desire to not rush into anything physical. But as the weeks ticked by the speed of your developing relationship shifted from glacial to stagnant, you couldn't help but be frustrated and more than a little confused.

"Ugh!" You screeched in irritation when your kiss landed across his jaw instead of your intended target of his lips.  With a huff, you push on Kirishima's shoulders to propel yourself backwards in the water and away from him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, brow wrinkled in confusion as he reached out for you, hands flexing in a grabby motion to lure you back to him.

"That's what I want to know!" You yell, slamming your hands down on the surface of the water, the sudden impact stinging your skin.  "You just push me away every time I try to get close to you!"

"I- I'm sorry," Kirishima whimpers.

"Do you- do you want to break up?" You ask, voice quiet and cracking.  

"No!  No, of course not!" Kirishima rushes to reassure you, closing the distance between you in an instant, pulling you against his chest and running comforting fingers across your cheeks, leaving trails of water in their wake.  "I care about you so much."

"Then what's going on?" You sniff miserably, nuzzling the space between Kirishima's pecs to comfort yourself.  "Why won't you kiss me?"

"I just- I feel really bad when I try to kiss you."

"Really not helping out my self-confidence here, Eijiro," you wince, the sound of his heart beat thundering under your ear. 

"Ah, geez!  No!  Not like that!  I just, maybe, haven't been completely honest with you about something," he admits hesitantly.  "And I feel guilty."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he shifts uneasily, kicking up a strong current that lashes against your legs.  "It doesn't feel right, getting closer to you while I'm keeping a secret."

"Can you tell me?  Your secret, I mean," You ask hesitantly, staring up into his warm eyes.

"I want to," he says, dropping his forehead down onto yours with a heavy thunk that sends stars flying across your vision.  "I'm just scared."

"You don't have to be scared," you assured him honestly, looping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him.  "I'm already halfway in love with you.  It'll take a lot to frighten me away."

"Yeah," Kirishima sighed morosely.  "I know."

Kirishima wrapped the tow line of your raft around his chest and swam out towards a rocky outcropping further up the shore and away from town.  You hadn't explored this far North before because the tides were fairly strong in this area and it was easier on your arms to drift and explore the areas to the South.  

"Here we are," Eijiro announced, lashing the rope of your boat around a half-rotten piling; evidence of a past pier claimed by the sea.  You scuttled out of your raft as smoothly as you could, the waves breaking on the rocks making your exit maneuvers more bumbling than you would have liked.  But you managed to get to the top of the slick rocks without slipping, so it was an overall win in your book.

"Alright," you said with a firm head nod, focusing on Eijiro's serious expression and not the unpleasant feeling of algae squishing under your hands.  "What is it you want to tell me?"

"Okay," Kirishima sighed, his chest visibly sinking with the force of his exhale.  "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, just- give me a minute?" He squeaked, running his shaking hands through his damp hair, the bright red tresses clumping together into rows between his fingers.  "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Maybe just say it really quick?" You offer.  "Just get it over with- like pulling off a bandaid."

"A what?"

"Do you…not know what a bandaid is?" You ask, utterly flummoxed by his question. 

"Not important right now," Kirishima waved his hand dismissively.  "We'll circle back to that later."

"Of course.  Right.  We need to stay focused here."

Moments pass in silence as you wiggle your fingers in the squishy algae beneath you while Kirishima's skin seems to turn ghastly pale before your eyes.  You were about to ask if he was okay when he suddenly released a powerful roar that seemed to rattle your bones with its intensity.

"C'mon, Kirishima!  Man up!  You've got this!" He bellowed, suddenly pointing at you with one of his long fingers.  "Are you ready!?"

"I-," You stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor.  "Yes?"

"That's the spirit!" He cheered, pumping a fist into the air.  "Here I come!"

And then Kirishima surged up and out of the water, his arms tensing as he caught the edge of the rock face and began pulling himself up in an impressive show of strength.  He scrambled for purchase across the slippery stone, eventually letting out a triumphant grunt when he found a foothold and was able to push himself up.

And up.

And up.

Kirishima was towering high above you now, his torso stretched far above where a normal human chest would be.  His monumental form blocked out the sun and cast a shadow down onto your shivering body- either from the sudden chill of the shade or the prickles of fear jolting down your spine; you weren't entirely certain.  

As your eyes trailed down his elongated body it suddenly became clear as to why you'd never seen Eijiro out of the water.  

Starting at his waist and proceeding downwards were rows and rows of chitinous plating that nestled and slotted I to each other to form a massive lobster tail.  Eight spindly legs clicked loudly across the rock as he swayed nervously from side to side; arms crossing and uncrossing as he waited for you to respond.  

Overwhelmed by his revelation, you inhaled a great shaky breath and promptly burst into tears.

"H-hey," Kirishima stuttered, reaching for you on instinct; second guessing his actions at the last moment and pulling his hands away with a pained grimace.  "It's okay!  I know I look scary, but I promise I won't hurt you!"

"It's not- it's not that," you wailed, blowing your nose into the hem of your rash guard.  "I could never be scared of you, Eijiro!"

"Spirits be praised," Kirishima whispered, visibly deflating in relief as his arms shot out once again to embrace you, running his hands soothingly down your back as he made quiet shushing noises to soothe you.  "If you aren't scared, then why are you so upset?"

"Because I'm allergic to shellfish!" You cried, burying your face into his shoulder as another wave of sobs overtook you. 

"I don't- what does that mean?"

"It means that lobsters make me sick!" 

"Oh," Kirishima muttered numbly, his hands stilling against your back as dread welled up in his belly.  "Well, shit."

The two of you lay sprawled out on that rocky outcropping, idly watching the clouds shift by.  Kirishima was on his back, his numerous lobster legs folded and tucked close to his body while his feathery swimmerets fluttered anxiously in the air.

"So, how allergic are you exactly?"  Kirishima asked, his tail slapping against the ground mindlessly as his thoughts raced. 

"Allergic enough to carry this," you sighed as you unzipped your emergency pack and pulled out an EpiPen.  "I've had to carry one ever since I was a kid.  I used to eat a ton of lobster- wait.  That must sound awful to you!"

"Nah," Kirishima said, waving off your distress with a hand and a couple of legs thrown in for good measure.  "I eat lobsters all the time.  They're delicious."

"I- well.  Okay, then," you replied uneasily, trying not to dwell on the potential moral ramifications of Kirishima's lobster consumption.  "Anyway, I had ordered some lobster tails like I normally did, but once I started eating them I began itching like crazy.  I've avoided shellfish ever since."

Kirishima blew out a frustrated breath as his hand crept towards you, weaving his fingers through yours.

"What are we going to do?" Eijiro murmured dejectedly, squeezing your hand tightly as the clouds tumbled through the sky above you.

"I don't know."

#eijiro kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro x y/n #eijirou x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #pigeoncoos🕊 #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader

[coopigeoncoo]

The Space Between Stars

Pairing: Bubaigawara Jin x Gender Neutral Reader

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: Smoking, Burglary, Home Invasion, First Meetings, Meet Ugly, Domestic Fluff

Written as part of @shibaraki's KOMOREBI Milestone Collab!

---

You thought your terrible day couldn't get any worse, but then you come home and accidentally interrupt a burglary in progress.

What follows is a series of questionable decisions you probably should have thought Twice about.

---

"Uh- hello!" The man greeted with a nervous laugh, tugging the mask that was scrunched up on the top half of his face a little further down his nose, fumbling the corner of the TV slightly as he did so. "Don't freak out.  I can explain."

"Yeah?" You murmured distantly, thoughts frantically racing as you tried to process the entire scene playing out before you. 

Something in the man seemed to suddenly shift; his jaw clenching tightly and his shoulders pulling taut in a way that made your focus instantly sharpen- the same way all the animals in nature documentaries did when they finally realized a predator was in their midst.

"I'm stealing your TV."

---

Continue reading below or follow the link to Ao3!

Today has been an awful day.

Not because any single, overwhelmingly bad thing had happened; you had just been worn down by a never ending gauntlet of unfortunate events.

Sometime during the night your phone cord had come unplugged and fully drained your phone battery, which meant that you woke up long after you had set your original and backup alarms to sound.  As a result, you didn't have time for breakfast and ended up just using mouthwash instead of stopping to fully brush your teeth, but even that time save wasn't enough to keep you from missing your usual train.  

You'd tripped on an uneven patch of sidewalk heading out to lunch and irreparably scuffed up the toes of your favorite dress shoes, and the presentation you had been working for the past two weeks to put together was somehow missing the last; and most integral, set of slides.  

The subsequent verbal lashing that your boss and, more embarrassingly, your boss's boss, had given you lasted so long you'd ended up missing the train.

Again.

And as you sought to pass the time waiting for the next train to arrive by messing around on your phone, you discovered that the person you'd been seriously flirting with on the online dating site had suddenly blocked you without notice.  

So when the skies opened up on your walk home, pouring down buckets of rain with such force that your skin stung from the impact, you comforted yourself with the knowledge that you could spend the rest of the day holed up in your apartment.  You'd slip into some pajamas, snuggle up on the couch with your favorite blanket, and veg out in front of the TV you had scrimped and saved to buy; doing your best to forget that today even happened while you yelled at quiz show contestants for chiming in with incorrect answers.  Perhaps you'd even go a step further and spend the commercial breaks on your phone, making wish lists full of products you'd never actually buy- letting yourself indulge in the fantasy of filling your overpriced and miniscule apartment with whatever gadgets and bits of decor that caught your interest.  

It wouldn't completely erase your misery, but it was the best you could do on a limited budget and exactly enough energy to shuffle from your bedroom to the living room after you peeled off your drenched work clothes.  

But your plans of relaxation were immediately foiled when you opened the door of your first floor apartment and were greeted by the sight of a man in a skintight black and white body suit trying to shove your brand new TV through your living room window; the bottom pane filled with with a spider web of cracks that spread even further with every heaving attempt to shove the flat-screen through the too small opening.  He froze when he noticed you, a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip as his scruffy jaw dropped open in surprise from your sudden appearance.  

"Uh- hello!" The man greeted with a nervous laugh, tugging the mask that was scrunched up on the top half of his face a little further down his nose, fumbling the corner of the TV slightly as he did so. "Don't freak out.  I can explain."

"Yeah?" You murmured distantly, thoughts frantically racing as you tried to process the entire scene playing out before you. 

Something in the man seemed to suddenly shift; his jaw clenching tightly and his shoulders pulling taut in a way that made your focus instantly sharpen- the same way all the animals in nature documentaries did when they finally realized a predator was in their midst.

"I'm stealing your TV."

And with that proclamation, your last frayed thread of patience snapped.

"Of course you are!" You laugh, frustrated tears welling up quickly and blurring your vision. "Why wouldn't you be?  It's not like my day could get any worse !"

"Hey, now- don't cry!" The man pleaded, thoughtlessly reaching out towards you with shaking hands, the TV nearly crashing to the floor as he released his hold on it; barely managing to catch the corner with a sharp curse and lower it gently to the floor.  "I'm not gonna hurt you or nothing- I'm just going to rob you a little !"

"A little? A little?" You shriek, wiping at your wet cheeks in frustration. "You're taking the most expensive thing I own!  That feels like an awful lot of robbing to me!"

"That's- that's a fair point," the man conceded, scratching at his exposed chin nervously as he looked around your bare bones apartment with a critical eye; taking note of your collection of second hand furniture and threadbare curtains your old roommate's cat had delighted in shredding.  

"I'm too tired to deal with this right now," you whimper as you take a step backwards into the breezeway, exhaustion winning out over more situationally appropriate emotions like absolute panic.  "Take whatever you want, but I would really appreciate it if you could leave the urn on the bookcase alone.  My Grandma is in there."

"I'd never-!" The man gasped, affronted by the implication he'd be despicable enough to make off with a jar full of Grandma dust.

"You're literally in the process of robbing me!" You laugh wetly, wiping your running nose onto your soaking wet sleeve.  "I don't think you're allowed to be offended by my assumptions about the quality of your character right now."

"I'm sorry. This isn't- this isn't the kind of person I want to be," the man whispered, his nervously wringing hands tightening into shaking fists. "This is who I have to be."

"Whatever," you huff dismissively.  "It doesn't really matter.  Close the window on your way out so the rain doesn't soak down to the floorboards."

"You gonna call the cops on me?" The man asked, nervously puffing on the cigarette in his mouth, the pungent clove smoke pulled towards you by the cross breeze; drifting straight into your face and making you recoil.  

"I don't live on the right side of the city for the police to care about a stolen TV," you inform him, grimacing at the tinkling sound of the buffeting rain upgrading into hailstones.  "I'm just going to duck into a store or something.  I'll be back in like, an hour, so it would be great if you could wrap up taking my stuff and be gone by then.  It's getting late and I still need to cook dinner."

And with those parting words you gently pulled the door closed behind you and, recognizing the futility of locking a door during an active home invasion; stepped back out into the freezing rain without looking back.

The only store on your block that had bothered to stay open in such terrible weather was a tiny holistic store crammed in between a pawn shop and a seafood market.  The shop owner, a serious faced woman with her hair slicked back into a painfully tight looking bun, did her best to cover up the pervasive fish odor that seeped in from the neighboring business by having three oil diffusers running all at once; but the only thing it really accomplished was adding nauseating strong floral notes to the briny air.  

You felt bad lingering in her store for so long without buying anything, so after a drawn out production of pretending to consider buying crystals in a variety of cuts and sizes while internally balking at the price tags, you settled on purchasing a mood ring from one of the clearance displays.  It had a large band size, too large for your fingers for sure, but it was the only thing that you could afford to purchase now that you'd have to start saving for a replacement TV. 

The woman behind the counter was obviously disappointed with your thriftiness, but you pretended to ignore her sourly pursed lips as she thanked you for your business and recommended you return at a later date to have your aura cleansed.

"It's all muddy, you know," she informed you with a disapproving huff, tugging firmly on the stiff collar of her dress shirt to shift it back into place.  "An aura that messy will only invite trouble and stress."

In your experience, trouble and stress never needed an invitation, but instead of voicing your thoughts you held your tongue, jammed the mood ring onto your thumb, and thanked her for the concern; snagging a business card in a show of false interest before bracing yourself for yet another slog through the rain.  

It wasn't coming down quite so hard anymore, but you were already so thoroughly drenched that the waning storm felt like a meaningless show of mercy from the universe at large; a waste of whatever finite karma you'd accrued during your life thus far.  

You'd boldly assumed that coming home to some guy stealing your TV would be the most surprising thing you'd walk in on today, but nothing could match the absolute astonishment you felt when you entered back into your apartment for the second time that evening.   

It had been easy to imagine that your place would be a ransacked disaster at this point, electronics long gone and your personal effects scattered around haphazardly as the intruder fruitlessly searched for valuables.  Instead, everything was in the same, or better, condition than you'd left it in.  

The TV had been returned to its proper place on your third-hand entertainment stand, a large scratch on the side of the frame but seemingly no worse for the wear as the weatherman on screen droned on about the unprecedentedly large storm rolling through the city.  The cracked window had been covered In layers of carefully placed packing tape to keep it from shattering completely; a towel spread out on the carpet beneath it to soak up the rainwater that had collected inside during the thief's botched getaway.

All the shoes in your entryway, the ones you normally kicked off and left where they landed, had been lined up in neat pairs next to the coat closet.  The blanket you'd left crumpled on your lumpy couch after a quick nap yesterday had been neatly draped over the back of the sofa.

And the thief, who you thought would be long gone by now, had made himself at home in your kitchenette.  With a set of mismatched hot pads on his hands he pulled a half sheet pan out of the countertop oven, the telltale aroma of baking bread filling every corner of your small apartment and driving out the lingering stench of cigarette smoke.  Desperately, you wondered if he'd noticed your arrival; cautiously rocking back onto your rear foot in preparation for making a quick escape when he called out to you from across the apartment.  

"Don't just stand in the doorway," the man chastised as he slid the hot tray down onto the stovetop, a small saucepan set to simmer on the next burner over.  "You'll let all the warm air out."

"Uh- yeah.  Of course.  Sorry," you apologized reflexively, wildly unsure about what to do but deciding that the best course of action is to likely play along and keep the burglar-turned-baker calm.  Pushing the door closed with a shaking hand, you did your best to keep your breathing calm and level despite the dread violently roiling in your belly; your sense of self preservation blaring in the back of your mind like a siren.  

"Welcome home.  Again," the thief greeted pleasantly, the toothpick in his mouth straining under the force of his clenched teeth. "You said you'd be gone for an hour."

"I- I ran out of stuff to do and figured you'd be gone by now.  And not, you know- staying to clean up my apartment."

"Yeah," the man laughed, rubbing at the back of his half-masked head nervously; hand still shoved into one of your plaid oven mitts.  "This isn't how these sorts of things usually go down."

"Then why did you do it?" You ask with a nervous swallow, the domestic setting making you bolder than the situation would typically dictate. "Stay, I mean?"

"It just- it seemed like you were having a really bad day," the man murmured sheepishly, pulling off the oven mitts one at a time and tossing them down onto a clear swath of counter next to the stove. "And I didn't want to make it any worse."

"Oh."

"This is- so awkward.  I'm sorry," he muttered, scrubbing a hand across the stubble on his chin in frustration.  "I wanted to be gone by the time you got back to avoid all of this."

"It's okay," you say, unsure as to how sincere you actually were.

"It's not okay," the man laughed dryly.  "I was going to rob you- picking up your living room doesn't make it okay!  It doesn't make me okay!"

"You could have done worse."

"I could have," the man nodded solemnly, the action switching to a frantic shaking a moment later. "I wouldn't have."

A realization struck you abruptly.  "Tell me a lie," you demanded.

"What?"

You wrench open the coat closet door and reach inside, pulling out a chunky blue scarf; a gift from a close friend during their brief but prolific crocheting phase. 

"Say this is red," you said, holding the scarf aloft for him to see.  He froze, every one of his muscles set on edge as he stared at the length of knotted yarn in your grasp. 

"I don't know what you're trying to prove here.  You already know that I can't."

"I just- I want to make sure," you insisted, holding the scarf up a fraction higher. "Please."

"Okay," the man said, deflating as he exhaled in defeat.  "The scarf is red.  It's obviously blue."

Emboldened by the first successful test of your hypothesis, you stepped further into the apartment, snagging a purple tissue box off of the coffee table with your free hand and holding it up for the man to see.

"And this?"

"Green.  It's purple."

Gliding further into your apartment, you deposited the scarf and the tissue box onto the card table you ate your meals at, and grabbed an overripe banana from the bowl of half-rotten fruit you kept replenishing each week; ever hopeful that you'd wake up one day with the self restraint necessary to reach for an apple instead of a bag of chips when you felt snacky. 

"This banana?"

"Teal.  Black- that's one nasty looking banana!"

"It is, isn't it?  I should probably just throw it out," you say with a grimace as your finger hits a soft spot on the peel and sinks down into the goey inner banana flesh. 

"Here, catch!" the man called out, tossing a slightly damp dish rag towards you, which you miraculously managed to snatch out of the air.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

It was quiet for a moment while you wiped the mealy banana goo from your finger, digging under your nail with the stiff corner of the towel.  "So you can't lie," you mused. "Is that a Quirk thing?"

"May as well be, I guess," the man sighed, turning to examine the squat loaf of bread cooling on your stove top.  "I want to go ahead and slice this.  You won't freak out if I grab a knife, will you?"

"Depends," you reply evasively with narrowed eyes as he pulled a knife half way out of the knife block, examining the edge with a frown before sliding it back into place.  "Do you plan on slicing me up, too?"

"These knives are so dull I don't think I could even if I wanted to," he groused, pulling another knife out for inspection with a dissatisfied frown. "And I don't want to."

Eyes locked on the intruder's back; you lowered yourself down carefully into the closest dining chair; knees weak and mind reeling from the surreal turn your evening had taken.  "So you don't want my stuff, and you don't want to hurt me- what exactly do you want?"

"What I want-," the man paused, a triumphant fist pump accompanying his discovery of a serrated blade.  "Is for you to try this bread that I made."

"And then you'll leave?"

"I'll leave right now if that's what you want," the man offered, running the scalloped edge across the craggy top crust of the bread and laughing delightedly at the scraping sound it made.  "Do you hear that?  That's one crispy crust!  This loaf is gonna be goooood."

"How did you even make bread, anyway?  I know for a fact that I don't have any yeast."

"You don't really have much of anything.  Believe me, I checked," the man grinned cheekily over his shoulder at you, as though he thought his confession about rifling through your apartment was  charming and not a blatant invasion of privacy.  "But lucky for you, I'm well versed in poverty meals.  Mix up a basic bread dough, add in a beer where the yeast should be, shove that baby into the oven and you're ready to go!  There's a bit more to it than that."

"Well, it smells wonderful.  This is probably the best this apartment has ever smelled."

"No kidding!  You get a discount for having the unit right above the dumpster?"

"I wish," You sighed forlornly, taking a moment to imagine how much easier your life would be with even a slightly lower cost of living.  "But taking out the trash is pretty convenient, I can just drop it in from the fire escape."

"Bowls?" He inquired as he shut the heat off under the saucepan, giving it one final stir.  

"Oh- I only have a couple.  They're probably on the drying rack."

He salutes you sharply before shuffling off to follow your instructions, carefully selecting and stacking the dishes into his arms like they were valuable pieces of china and not the very worst a home store clearance rack had to offer.  You twisted your too-big mood ring anxiously around your thumb, reminding yourself with every turn that the man in front of you, despite his seemingly affable nature, wasn't a guest.  He was an intruder in your home, no better than the mice that darted behind your fridge when you turned the kitchen light on in the middle of the night.

Although the mice had never cooked you dinner before, so you suppose that was a point in his favor.  

"Careful- careful," the man whispered quietly to himself, inching across the floor towards you with two bowls of soup balanced on his forearm; bracing the overhanging rims with a plate stacked lopsidedly with still steaming bread slices.  He gingerly deposited the bowls onto the table, sliding yours to a stop directly in front of you without any of the broth sloshing over the edge; an impressive feat considering that he'd filled it up to the brim. 

"Nailed it!" He crowed in pride, tossing the plate full of bread down onto the table unceremoniously, the thick slices nearly bouncing off the plate from his rough handling.  Collapsing into the folding chair opposite if you in what could only be described as a sprawl, you watch with thinly veiled interest as he pushes his mask up over the bridge of his nose.  Nostrils fully uncovered, he hunches over the bowl of soup and inhales deeply, flapping his hands to fan the aromatic vapors directly towards his face.

"Not too shabby for a can of soup and leftover veggies!"

"Is that what this is?" You ask curiously, giving the soup a small stir, trudging up a floret of seared broccoli that definitely came from takeout earlier in the week.  

"Don't be shy now.  Dig in!" The man encouraged, placing a large chunk of soup-drenched bread into his mouth with a happy sigh.  The soup was perfectly edible, nothing to write home about but still a notable effort considering the meager ingredients your kitchen had to offer.  But the bread was a different story entirely.

"This crust is incredible!" You gasp, the dry crumbs sticking to your lips.  

"A good dinner for a rainy night," the man stated, holding his half devoted bread slice out towards yours.  "Cheers?"

"Cheers!" You laugh, pushing your slice of bread against his; the crusts impacting and sending a dusting of flaky bread crumbs tumbling onto the surface of the table.

"Whoopsy-daisy!  I'll get that, don't worry," the man reassured you, licking his finger and tapping it across the table, picking up crumbs as he went.  

"'Whoopsy-daisy', huh?" You muse, sipping at a spoonful of soup thoughtfully. "How many kids do you have?"

"Kids? Oh, no- I don't- I don't have any of those," he stammered, shoving his crumb covered finger into his mouth and removing it with a comical pop.  "Her name's Himiko."

"That's…quite the discrepancy between those two answers."

"Himiko isn't- she's not mine, mine.   But she's mine, you know?  In all the ways that should matter."

"So you love her then?"

"Of course I do.  She's a great kid."

"That's all that matters then, isn't it?" You smiled sincerely, the first grin of the evening not strained through a filter of worry.  The man seemed to notice the subtle shift in your demeanor, the tension in his posture softening ever so slightly as he somehow managed to slouch even farther down in his seat.

It had been a long time since you'd eaten alone with someone.  You went out after work with colleagues sometimes, but the places that you always ended up were crowded and noisy; tables and booths crammed to near bursting to accommodate the ravenous waves of dinner rush patrons.  The last meal you'd eaten at home with someone was likely before you moved into this apartment, when you still lived off-campus with a couple of roommates you liked progressively less with each passing week.  

You'd been beyond thrilled to land a job that paid enough to allow you to live alone, even though affording to do so meant relocating across town to a less desirable zip code.  But a slight downgrade in living conditions was well worth the benefit of knowing you'd never again have to live through the experience of walking in on your roommate and their booty call having sex on your bed because it was 'more comfortable' than theirs. 

While you would never miss the stacks of unwashed dishes left to putrefy in the sink or having to wipe urine splatters off of the toilet seat before you could relieve yourself, it was hard to deal with the constant quiet sometimes.  The drone of the TV couldn't replace someone asking about your day or replicate the joy of shared laughter.  

And you couldn't help but wonder if it was a similar situation for the man across from you.  

"Is it okay for me to ask your name?" You murmur quietly, eyes locked on your own hands as you push a tomato chunk around your bowl with the back of your spoon.  "I understand if you don't want me to know.  The less I probably know about you the better, huh?  I'm sorry, that was stupid of me.  Forget I said anything-"

"Twice.  You should call me Twice," the man interrupted; letting out an irritated grunt before opening his mouth once more.  "I want you to call me Jin."

Thrown off balance once again by his contradictory requests, your brain races frantically to find some sort of middle ground between the two.

"Do you want me to call you Jin…twice?  Like, JinJin?"

"That's a little ah- intimate , dontcha' think?" Jin said, a nervous cough punctuating his sentence sharply.  He pulled the bottom edge of his mask down further, trying to cover up the tell-tale embarrassed burn of his cheeks without compromising his ability to eat.  "Just Jin is fine."

"Alright.  Thank you for the meal, Jin.  This is a much nicer dinner than I would have put together for myself, even if I hadn't been delayed by some guy breaking into my apartment," you joked, sending a pointed look Jin's way; politely averting your eyes and pretending not to notice his splotchy blush creeping even further down his cheeks.

"A burglar, huh?  Sounds like a real heel."

"Maybe," you murmured thoughtfully as you watched Jin try and cram an entire slice of bread into his mouth at once.  "But I don't think he's all that bad."

Jin, having gone back for a second serving of soup, was the last to finish eating.  You swooped in and grabbed his bowl before he could object, placing it on the counter as you waited for the sink to finish filling so you could begin washing the dishes. 

"You don't have to do that," Jin grumbled from his position behind you, standing close enough for you to feel him nervously shuffling from foot to foot.  "I can clean up after myself. "

"Nope, sorry.  It's the house rules," you sighed forlornly, acting as though you weren't the sole person responsible for making those rules.  "If you cook, you don't clean up."

"Is there anything else I could do?  Help you out a little more?"

"I guess you could help me dry?" You offer, scooting over slightly to make room for him in your tiny kitchen area. 

"Aye-aye, Captain!" Jin saluted as he slotted into place next to you, grabbing the dripping wet cup you offered out to him with one hand and picking up a dry dishrag with the other.  

The sounds of clinking cutlery and the slow but steady dripping of your faucet worked together with the rumbling storm outside to craft a peaceful atmosphere; one that helped soften the sharp edges of reality and allowed you to gloss over the fact that you were having a very pleasant time with the man who had started out the evening with the intention of robbing you blind.  

It was reckless and stupid, but you couldn't help but worry a little about what would happen to Jin once he left your apartment.  If he was desperate enough to resort to theft for some quick cash, you couldn't help but wonder and worry about what sort of life awaited him outside of the cramped comfort of your home.  

"Are you going to be okay?  Once you leave?" You ask, prying up a stubborn piece of dried food from the tines of a fork with your fingernail.  

"That's one heck of a loaded question!" Jin laughed sharply.  "The world is an absolute mess right now, society is on the brink of collapsing in on itself- I don't think anyone is going to be okay for a long, long time."

"Yeah, but- there's nothing I can do about any of that stuff," you sigh quietly, watching the small bubbles on the surface of the water swirl around your wrists.  "But I can help you, if you need it.  I probably have enough money to put you up at a hotel for the night.  Keep you out of the storm."

"You're too kind," Jin murmured quietly, his voice heavy with appreciation.  "But I don't want you to worry about me, okay?  Things are…difficult right now.  But it won't last forever."

"I wish I had your optimism."

"It's not optimism," Jin said, placing the last plate into the drying rack next to the sink and passing you the dish towel to wipe your hands on. 

"What is it then?" You asked, unable to fully dry your hands on the wet cloth, so you settled for simply wiping off the lingering film of bubbles from the back of your hands.  

"Experience,” he said, scratching thoughtlessly at the scruff growing unevenly across his exposed jaw.  “My life has always been- well, bad.  Mostly.  I used to really hate that.  Thought it wasn't fair.  But now I don't mind so much."

"Why not?"

"Well, eventually I realized that the bad times I went through made all the good things in my life seem even better," he said, turning his head to gaze out of your taped up window, as though he would be able to see the sky and not the moldering plaster exterior of the apartment complex next to yours. "Stars wouldn't be anything special if it wasn't for all that dark space between em', you know?"

You thought back on your day, on the series of disastrous events that had weighed you down soured your disposition, and how now; with the passage of time and the balm of Jin's companionship, the day didn't feel quite so dreadful in retrospect.

"I hope you saved room for dessert," you smiled, turning to riffle through a cabinet for the small package of cookies you kept tucked away for emergencies.

"Thanks, but I'm still full from dinner.  There's always room for a treat or two!"

The bag of cookies, already half empty from propping you up emotionally during the dramatic season finale of the show you'd binged last weekend, didn't last long.  But you and Jin did your best to stretch out the warm comfort of the evening as long as you could; chatting over the commercials as the emergency weather broadcast came to a conclusion.  

"Welcome back, viewers!" A man with slicked back hair and an unfortunate mustard colored blazer greeted as the title card for the incoming show disappeared from the screen.  "You're tuned in to 'Top 10 at 10', the show where we look back at the week's top moments from the Top Ranked Heroes!  Next up is the Winged Hero: Hawks, swooping in for a rescue-!"

"Ugh," you groan, patting the couch cushions around you in search of the remote.  "Is the controller over by you?  I want to change the channel."

"Nope, no controller," Jin said, his focus solely on the TV as the Number Two Hero crashed through a window on the top most floor of a burning apartment building. "So, you're not a Hawks fan I take it?"

"Hawks gives me weird vibes," you admit, lifting up a throw pillow to peer down into the space next to the arm of the sofa as Hawks waved casually on the screen, a shaking Pomeranian tucked securely under his arm as he floated to the ground.  "I don't trust people who always smile.  It feels like they're trying to hide something."

"You're a good judge of character, aren't you?" Had you been less focused on your frantic search for the remote you would have noticed Jin's uncomfortable fidgeting and repeatedly clenching fists, but you'd missed those telltale signs that preceded a shift in his personality.  So the sudden appearance of that voice, the brash one you'd grown accustomed to hear chiding and correcting Jin's half-truths, was unnerving.  You wondered how loud his unspoken thoughts must be for that second voice to feel the need to comment on Jin's internal dialogue.  

"I used to think so," you laugh dryly, the hand you'd been using to fish around in the couch coming up with a fistful of crumbs and an old tin of forgotten breath mints.  "But recent events definitely have me reevaluating that assumption about myself."

"You shouldn't-," Jin swallowed thickly, carefully considering his words; weighting them for sincerity lest he stray too far off the line of authenticity and unwittingly reveal too much.  "Don't make me be the reason you doubt yourself.  I'll take the blame for all sorts of stuff, but I don't want that to be on me, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, once again fumbling to regain your emotional footing.  Talking with Jin was like walking across a messy room with your eyes closed, constantly tripping up and unsure of what caused you to even stumble in the first place. 

"I mean, if you can't trust yourself, then who can you trust?" Jin asked, his voice only just beneath a bellow and pulled thin at the edges; a manic sort of cry that poorly covered his underlying distress.  "I can't trust myself anymore!"

"You can’t?"

"No.  I- I broke that trust.  I broke myself."

Carefully, you lower yourself down on the cushion next to him; a vulnerable place for an unguarded moment.  "I know that it probably doesn't mean much of anything coming from me- we're pretty much strangers," you admit with a helpless sort of shrug, extending a hand out towards him like you would a cowering animal; slowly, carefully, like you half expected to be bitten for your trouble.  "But I trust you."

"You don't know me.  I don't even know if I'm me," he admits with a watery sniff, accepting your outstretched hand with his shaking fingers.

"This Jin, this you- ," you emphasize with a tight squeeze of your hand. "-is the only one I know.  And I happen to think he's pretty alright."

"Even for a bad guy?"

"You're the best bad guy I know," you assure him readily, the words somehow playful despite their sincerity.  But it seems like Jin was looking for a way out of the mire of introspection he'd waded into and quickly took the metaphorical hand you'd extended; lifting himself out of his head with a breathy chuckle.  

"I am pretty great, aren't I?"

"A terrible thief, but an excellent chef."

"Guess I missed my calling in life!" He grinned brightly, sucking up the bead of snot dripping from his nose.  

"It's never too late to change."

"It is for me."

You waited anxiously, almost desperately for that second voice to cry out in objection, but the room remained silent except for the canned laughter piping in through the TV speakers.  Whatever path Jin was on offered him no alternative, no deviation from the bumpy road beneath his feet.  

"Earlier, you told me that this isn't who you want to be.  That this is who you have to be."

"Who I need to be.  Who they need me to be."

"Will you do something for me?" You asked, easily sliding the mood ring off of your thumb and spinning it between the fingers of your free hand.  "One last favor and we'll call it even?"

"Of course," Jin nodded solemnly as his chest puffed up; proud to be entrusted with carrying out a task for you.

"When you have the chance, I want you to make the choice you want.  Be the Jin you want to be," you pleaded, sliding the mood ring easily onto his much larger pointer finger.  

"This like a promise ring or something?"

"I suppose," you hum thoughtfully. "But only if you promise."

He held the ring up in front of his face, watching the colors swirl and shift rapidly across the gleaming black stone; far more active than it had been on your own hand.  Jin clenched his fist, locking the ring onto his finger like he was scared it might tumble from his grasp and disappear into the unknown abyss alongside your remote, never to be seen again.  You couldn't see his eyes, only the expressive patterning on his mask that managed to contort with his fluctuating disposition, but there was a sudden weight upon your shoulders that let you know that you were the sole object of his intense focus.  

Jin lifted his ringed hand into the air between you, splaying his fingers wide in front of your face.  The dark, swirling gem of his ring glimmering merrily from the vicinity of your forehead, a third eye for Jin to take with him; an eye that would see him in the way he craved- as the Jin that existed solely in your gaze.  

"I promise."

The night, as all things, could not last forever.  But you were unprepared for the abrupt way that Jin threw himself up from the couch when the late night News broadcast cut to live coverage of a crime in progress; a patch-skinned man cackling in delight as he threw bright blue flames from the back of a speeding van at pursuing police vehicles.  

"That idiot, " he hissed, patting his sides and butt like he was checking for keys or a phone that were very obviously not tucked into his spandex suit.  "I have to go."

"Oh ,"  you manage to say through the clenching knot of dismay that had tied itself up in your chest.  “Will you come back?"

"I- I shouldn't," he whispered, regret palpable in every syllable.  "I want to."

Hastily, you stumbled to your feet and strode across the living room, grabbing the ceramic urn you had on prominent display before circling back and stopping directly in front of Jin. 

"Here,” you said, pushing the vase firmly into Jin's arms.  “Take this.”  

"For the last time, I'm not going to take your Grandma!" Jin cried in exasperation, pushing the floral patterned urn back into your arms. 

"Please," you snorted, lifting off the lid and pulling out a small plastic bag of gray ashes, shaking it back and forth in the air. "This isn't actual people powder.  It's a bunch of charcoal ash I grabbed from my neighbor's grill."

"Then why do you-?"

"I'm not totally naive," you said, hooking your hand on the rim of the urn and gently jostling it, the tell tale clinking of coins echoing from inside.  "Every burglar grabs a piggy bank, but very few think to check a jar of apparent human remains."

"I can't take your savings," Jin protested weakly, staring down longingly at the handfuls of bills scattered amongst the change.  "I'm not gonna steal from you."

"Of course you're not.  First of all, this is a gift ," you emphasize, pushing the urn more firmly against his chest.  "And second, this isn't for you."

"It's not?" Jin asked bewilderedly, twisting his head around to check if a second criminal had snuck into the apartment while he was distracted.

"Nope.  This is for Himiko," you explained, letting go of the vase and stepping back so Jin had no choice but to tighten his grip on the money jar or let it crash to the ground.  "Buy her something nice, okay?  And treat yourself while you’re at it."

"I- I will," he promised, unable to refuse your gesture if it meant securing some measure of comfort for Himiko.  Tucking the urn safely into the crook of his arm, Jin tugged his mask down; obscuring his face fully for the first time.  It was impressive how much that narrow swath of exposed skin had been carved into your memory in such a short span of time.  Even now, through the cover of a mask, you could still make out the small hints of Jin that lay beneath; the jut of his chin, the set of his jaw, the jittery way he clicked his teeth together.  

With a grace you wouldn't expect of a man his size, he slipped towards the patched up window, prying up the frame and squeezing an entire leg out onto your fire escape before he noticed your bewildered expression.

"What is it?  What's wrong?"

"You- you don't have to sneak out the window," you explained, pivoting your body to point towards the entryway.  "You can just use the door."

"Right!  The door!  Of course!" Jin laughed, smacking himself in the forehead as he pulled his leg back into your apartment, hopping clumsily on one foot until his appendage was fully free.  "Forgot that you had one of those."

"Well, I hope you don't forget again," you chastise playfully, guiding him out of your front door and into your apartment breezeway.  "Because I sure would appreciate it if you'd knock next time."

"Next time?" Jin asked, voice hitching hopefully at the invitation.

"Bye, Jin," you smiled, giving him a small wave as you slowly closed the door.  "See you later!"

"Right," he murmured, staring down at his fluctuating mood ring, a smile creeping along his face as white specks scattered across the dark blue stone; like stars glimmering brilliantly in the dark night sky. "Later."

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #pigeoncoos🕊 #mha x gender neutral reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bubaigawara jin x reader #jin bubaigawara x reader #twice x reader #twice x you #twice x y/n

[coopigeoncoo]

The Whole Dang Zoo

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

Mentions: Female Reader, humor, fluff, nicknames, pet names, traditionally female animal nicknames, traditionally insulting animal nicknames, implied sex offscreen.

Summary: It wasn't hard for Todoroki Shouto to start using pet names. What was difficult was figuring out when he should stop.

"A rat, Todoroki?  You called your girlfriend a rat?" Mina screeched in disbelief.

"They're actually very intelligent and clean animals."

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Back during his early days at UA, Shouto had to learn to navigate a great many new things: friendships, rivalries, and the beguiling labyrinth of unspoken social conventions involved with human interaction.   

Shouto liked to think that he learned from his mistakes and adapted quickly.  He no longer heated leftover fish in the communal microwave and only needed an occasional reminder that people found it intimidating and not a sign of intense interest when he maintained eye contact for extended periods of time without blinking.            

But some situations proved more difficult for him to navigate than others because he simply did not have the appropriate context to frame them with.  So when fliers appeared on the bulletin board by the front door of Heights Alliance advertising two different events happening at the same time, he simply chose the one that appealed to him more; a relaxing movie night in over a round of laser tag at a local arcade.  

Shouto hadn’t even considered the possibility that these events had been organized with strict gender boundaries in mind because using any attendance criteria other than interest seemed wildly illogical.  So when he appeared in the doorway of dorm lounge that weekend, clad in his comfiest pajamas and bearing a small caddy of his usual hair products as the flier requested, there was only a brief moment of shocked confusion on the girls part before they cheered loudly and guided him over to a huge nest of blankets on the floor.  

Hagakure shared her lip mask with him, Ashido painted his toenails a stunning Prussian Blue, and Yaoyorozu had generously lent him use of her head so he could follow along with Uraraka's instructions on how to make a reverse fishtail braid.  He'd had an incredibly lovely evening with the girls and had unknowingly chosen his side of the class gender divide.  His unwitting decision was validated hours later when the rest of the Class A boys returned to Heights Alliance sopping wet and sporting a wide variety of injuries, from Bakugou's split lip to Kaminari's incredibly swollen double black eyes.  Shouto watched them shuffle miserably, many sporting pronounced limps and moaning in pain while he snuggled down deeper into a fuzzy sherpa throw and sipped contentedly on a cup of lavender tea.  

Sero broke away from the pack and stumbled into the kitchen, pulling a can of milk tea from the fridge before trudging towards Shouto, his wet socks squelching inside of his house slippers with every step.  He held the can out to Shouto's left side with a pleading grin.

"Can you heat this up for me, man?  It's been a long night."

Shouto took the can and steadily increased the temperature of his palm, gently heating the tea up and returning the can to Sero, who thanked him profusely before collapsing onto the couch with a groan.  Sero popped the top of the can open and took a fortifying sip before rolling up the legs of his sweatpants, revealing large welts running up both of his legs.  

"You look terrible," Shouto stated blandly.  "What even happened tonight?"

"Well, uh- we thought it would be funny to throw Bakugou into a river," Sero laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. "And in our defense, it was!  What happened after was way less amusing though."

"Oh?  What happened after?"

"Bakugou made us regret throwing him into a river."

"Ah," Shouto said, examining a particularly wicked looking bite mark under Sero's knee. "That would do it."

From then on, Shouto was 'one of the girls' and joined them for their regularly scheduled activities.  Shopping trips, smoothie runs, cookie decorating classes, Survivalist Training, volunteer dog walking, and plenty of movie nights on the days they were too tired to venture out into the city.  

As the years passed and their responsibilities as Heroes increased they still did their best carve out time to meet up once a month when their schedules allowed.  Sometimes only two or three of them would be available, but tonight was one of the rare nights when the stars had shifted into an auspicious arrangement (Shouto was unsure exactly about what celestial positioning that was, but Mina would likely explain it to him if he asked) and Shouto found himself once again reunited with all the Class A girls in Jiro's apartment.  

Toru had been the last to arrive, toting along a large bag stuffed full of DVDs she had picked up at a rental shop near the station.  

"Sorry I'm late!" She called, pulling out the DVDs and laying them down on the coffee table for everyone to peruse as they filtered in from the kitchen with drinks and snacks. "The station was crazy packed and I had to wait forever for an open car to show up!"

"Oh yeah, they shuffled everyone over from the circle line because of damage from a villain attack during rush hour," Ochako mused, tapping the cover of a romantic comedy excitedly with her finger. "This one, I think.  I've wanted to see it for ages and missed it when it was in theaters!"

"That was when we got shipped over to New Zealand for the summer, right?" Tsuyu asked, snagging the DVD with her tongue so she could read the plot synopsis on the back cover. "Hmm.  Looks fine to me.  The run time isn't too long so I wouldn't be late getting home.  What do you think, Shouto?"

Without sparing a glance at the cover, Shouto simply nods his acquiescence.  "What we watch doesn't matter to me.  I'm just here for the company," he said, ladling up mulled wine into a mug from the pot simmering on the stovetop.    

Jiro groaned miserably as she plopped down into an overstuffed armchair. "I tried watching a Rom Com with Denki and he just made farting noises anytime someone's butt was on screen.  Shouto just stands in my kitchen and talks about how the best part of watching a movie is my presence and I just- ugh!" Jiro screeches, solidly punching a throw pillow.  "It's. Not. Fair!  It should be illegal to be so sweet, Shouto!"

Toru paused, a handful of popcorn floating forgotten as she pulled out her phone.  "Jiro is right.  I have to report this crime on Hero Net.  I'm sorry, Shouto.  You're going to be a wanted man now," she tsked sadly, typing on her phone one handed.  

Shouto furrowed his brow.  "I wasn't wanted before?  Then what was that "Most Desirable Man" award all about?"

Jiro decided to stop punching the throw pillow and opted for screaming into it instead.  

Ochako shook her head, laughing.  "Your girlfriend is so lucky, Shouto!"

"You think so?  I worry sometimes," he sighed, rounding the back of the couch and taking his traditional spot on the right side of the couch with his warm side facing in for when one of the girls inevitably sought to warm up their chilled feet against him.  

"Really?" Tsuyu prodded, sitting down next to Shouto.   "What about?"

"Well, she's my first girlfriend.  I just worry that maybe I'm not doing all the things she's expecting me to do?"

"Do you go down on her?" Mina asked as she popped the DVD into the player.  

"Often," Shouto nodded. "And with gusto."

"Good man," Momo said, patting his shoulder firmly as she passed by on her way back to the kitchen to refill her mug.

"Pft, don't worry then!  She's fine," Mina assured him, dropping onto the ground by Ochako's feet.

"Sometimes I wish that I had more experience.   Maybe if I had dated someone else before her then I wouldn't be so worried about accidentally ruining everything," Shouto sighed.

“First relationships are definitely rough,” Ochako agreed. “But it’s not like you’re going in alone, we’re all here to give you advice if you need it!”

“Maybe they are,” Tsuyu mused. “But don’t ask for my advice.  I’m a disaster in relationships.  But I will take you out drinking if you break up though.”

“That’s a horrible offer and I hope I never have to take you up on it.”

Tsuyu shrugged and sipped her wine.  “Eh, it’s there if you need it.”  

“Ignore her!” Jiro shouted, her face flushing increasingly as her mug emptied.  

“Yeah!” Ochako agreed.  “Oh!  Maybe you’ll get some ideas from watching the movie- like vicarious experience!” 

“Do you think that would work?” Shouto asked, critically examining the smiling couple freeze-framed on the DVD menu.  

Ochako shrugged.  “We won’t know if we don’t try.  Momo, hit play!”

By halfway through the movie everyone was well into their cups; laughing too hard at the trite one-liners and swooning every time the main couple made intense, unblinking eye contact with each other.  

“When I do that people complain I’m intimidating them,” Shouto grumbled.  

“It’s different when you're in love,” Momo sighed.

“Shh!” Mina hissed at them. “The best part is coming up!”

Everyone leaned in towards the screen, rapt with attention, as the couple drew close together, their lips a hair's breadth from touching. 

‘Who could have predicted that the accidental fire at your pie factory would lead us here?’ The woman sighed dreamily, staring up into her co-star’s face.

‘It’s funny that it took losing all those desserts for me to discover something even sweeter,’ The man said, running a perfectly manicured hand across her cheek. 

“That isn’t funny at all.  People could have died in that fire,” Shouto chided.

“Shh!” Mina shushed him again. 

‘You think I’m sweet, do you?’ The woman giggled.

‘I do.  Why don’t you come over here and give me some of that sugar, Kitten?’ 

Shouto hadn’t been expecting the high-pitched squeals that the girls let out in cacophonous unison and was quite startled by their vocal response.  

“Are you all okay?”

“Yes,” Toru sobbed.  “It’s just- the pet names.”

“The…pet names?” Shouto asked, befuddled.  

“The names you call people when you’re in love,” Momo explained.  

“When used correctly, pet names can trigger deep emotional and physical responses,” Tsuyu clarified.  

“Like ‘Kitten’?” Shouto questioned, his voice caressing the new term gently.  

Jiro screamed into her misery pillow once again while Mina patted her leg comfortingly.  

“Yeah,” Mina sighed.  “Just like ‘Kitten’.”      

The radio played softly in the background while you ran an impatient finger down your phone screen, desperately scrolling in an attempt to figure out where exactly the unnecessary backstory ended and the recipe actually began.  Distracted on two fronts, you didn’t realize you were no longer alone in your apartment until two arms wound themselves around your waist, pulling you backwards and away from the kitchen counter with a firm tug.  

“Woah!” you say, startled as your back impacts Shouto’s chest.  “Hello, there!  I didn’t realize you’d come in!  I wasn’t expecting you this early.”  

“A few of the girls have to be at work first thing in the morning, so we finished up earlier than we normally do.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.  I know it’s hard for you all to coordinate everyone’s schedules.”

Shouto hummed in agreement, dropping his head down into the juncture of your neck, his lips barely hovering above the surface of your skin.  

“Speaking of schedules, how’s the rest of your night looking?”

You spare a glance towards the counter where a handful of ingredients for dinner are waiting for you to chop and measure.  “Well, I was going to cook dinner, but I haven’t started yet.” 

“So, you have some time?” he whispered huskily, pressing his lips gently onto your shoulder.  

Giggling, you reach a hand back and thread it through the hair at the nape of his neck.  “Maybe I do.  You have a specific activity in mind?”

“Nothing in particular,” he said, hand wandering under your shirt to stroke the soft skin of your belly. “Just wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend.  Is that okay with you, Kitten?”

“Oh, yes,” you gasp, breath catching at the whispered endearment.  “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”  

Grinning madly, Shouto swept you up into his arms and carried you down the hallway towards the bedroom.  

Sunlight was just beginning to creep in through the cracks between your curtains and the wall when you felt Shouto's lips press gently against your forehead once, twice, three times with a devastating softness that tickled your skin.  

"Shou?" You mumbled, using clumsy fists to rub the sleep from your eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.  Go back to sleep."

"Mmkay," you agree readily, already snuggling back into your pillow.  

"I'll see you later, Duckling," Shouto whispered sweetly, closing the bedroom door behind him with a gentle click.

"...Duckling?  Wha' happened to Kitten?" You muse briefly before the creeping fingers of sleep on the edges of your consciousness drag you back into their grasp.  

That Saturday you're out shopping at a flea market on the weird side of town when you saw it; an obviously unlicensed Endeavor figure with a hilariously misprinted face.  His wobbly oval eyeballs stared off into wildly different directions and his lip color was offset enough that it looked like he was sticking his tongue out in distaste.  You snap a picture of it and immediately text it to Shouto, moving to pocket your phone when it begins to ring loudly.  

"Hello?" You greet, pressing the phone into your shoulder with your ear as you spin the Endeavor figure around in your hand, snorting when you realize that the body was actually recycled from an All Might figure and painted over with Endeavor's costume colors.  

"I don't care how much that figure is.  Buy it."

"Aren't you supposed to be patrolling right now?" You laugh, raising a hand to flag down the vendor before fishing around in your purse for your pocket book.

"I'm with Denki right now and he agrees that this is much more important.  Hold on-," shuffling filters in from Shouto's end as he moves the phone around.  "Denki says to give you his regards and to buy as many of those Endeavor figures as they have."

"Tell Chargebolt I say 'Hello'.  And there's just the one figure, I'm afraid."

"Damn.  Well, that's okay.  It'll make a great gift for Natsuo."

The sudden sound of screeching tires fills your ear and you distantly hear Chargebolt yelling Shouto's name.  

"I have to go now, duty calls.  I'll talk to you later, Mongoose," Shouto says quickly, ending with a wet smooching sound before he hangs up.   

You stare at the screen of your phone dumbly, Shouto's profile image smiling gently at you from his contact page.

"'Mongoose'?" You utter, completely baffled by the nickname as you clutch the dopey Endeavor figure tightly to your chest and wander distractedly to the next market table.

Your coworker sat across from you in the restaurant booth, rolling utensils up into napkins and sealing them with little paper rings while you worked on wiping down a large stack of sticky laminated menus.   

"Okay, 'Duckling' was sweet, but I agree that being called 'Mongoose' is a little odd," she agreed, dropping her completed napkin rolls into the plastic bin beside her.

"Right?  But those aren't even the weirdest ones! Just in the last week I've been a puffin, an armadillo, a fruit bat, and a chinchilla!"

"Chinchillas are cute," your coworker pointed out, rubbing at a water spot on a spoon with a spare napkin.

"Yeah, I didn't mind that one," you agree, spraying cleaner onto a menu.  Your cell phone, stowed safely in the pocket of your apron, buzzed sharply as a new text rolled in.  Bypassing your lock screen, you quickly examine the new message before groaning loudly and flipping the phone around for your coworker to see.  

'Look, it's you!' The message from Shouto proclaimed right above an attached picture of a droopy-faced blobfish.   

"Huh.  I think I'm starting to get a little offended on your behalf."

The part-time worker, a somber and unexcitable teenager, was sweeping close to your table and you beckon her over.  She pulls out her left earbud as she approaches your table, leaning heavily onto the broom at her side.

"What do you make of this," you ask, holding the phone up in front of her face. "I need a second opinion."

She examined the message carefully before leveling you with a serious stare.  

"I think that Todoroki Shouto could call me the meanest, nastiest, names under the sun and I would still write him a thank-you card and take him to meet my Grandma the next day."

You and your coworker pause, considering her words.

"She's right," your coworker nodded, resuming her utensil rolling.

"Oh, yeah." you agreed, responding to the blobfish picture with a shower of emoji hearts. "One-hundred percent.  Thanks for your perspective!"

The part time girl nods before stepping back towards her dust pile, pushing her earbud back into place.

"Anytime."

It had been a couple of months since Shouto had been able to make it to Girls Night, having been caught up repeatedly testifying in a long running criminal trial.  It was a smaller gathering this time, just him, Mina, Ochako, and Momo crammed around a small Cafe table with flights of coffee lined up in front of them.  

Mina sipped from a particularly dark brew, cringing at the bitter notes and quickly pushing it in front of Ochako for her to dispose of.  Ochako smiled gleefully, picking up the relinquished mug and adding it to her collection of beverages.  

"I'm so glad that you were able to join us tonight, Shouto," Momo said, spooning a helping of sugar into one of her cups of light-roast.  "You've been so busy these past few weeks we've barely heard from you at all."

"I know," Shouto sighed.  "Work has been crazy and I've been spending all my free time over at Emu's apartment."

Ochako choked on her coffee, coughing wetly as Mina thumped soundly on her back with a flat hand.

"Ah, 'Emu'?" Momo inquired with wide eyes.  

"My girlfriend," Shouto replied, picking up the next cup of coffee to try.

"You- you're calling her Emu?" Ochako sputtered, still hacking into her arm.  

"It's kinda' cute," Mina said, tapping her cheek thoughtfully.  "Unusual, but cute.  I mean, it's not like he's calling her Whale or Pig, right?"

The girls all laughed while Shouto shifted uneasily in his chair.

"What's wrong with Whale or Pig?" Shouto asked with a tight voice.  

"Well, calling someone a whale implies that you think that they're overweight.  And calling someone pig means that you find them disgusting."

Shouto's eyes widened and he made a pitiful whining sound deep in his throat.

"Oh, Shouto!  Please tell me you didn't-" Momo begged.

"I did," he groaned miserably, dropping his head down into his hands.

"You can't just call your girlfriend random animals!  There's precedent for choosing appropriate pet names!" Mina shouted, aghast at Shouto's unwitting faux pas. 

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?  I thought you just picked whatever animals you thought were cute!" 

"You think whales are cute?" Ochako questioned.

"They have very soulful eyes!" Shouto shouted defensively, pulling out his phone and navigating to the past month's texts, pushing the device into Momo's hands.  

"Read through here and tell me how badly I've messed up," Shouto begged.

"I'm sure it isn't that bad," Momo said comfortingly, scrolling down through the chat log and sharply wincing.

"What?  What is it?" Mina called out.

"Ah- he called her a Cow.  And a Rat."

"A rat, Todoroki?  You called your girlfriend a rat?" Mina screeched in disbelief.

"They're actually very intelligent and clean animals!" 

"Oh, God," Ochako moaned into her hands, mortified on your behalf.  

Shouto whined pitifully and dropped his head onto the table with a loud thunk, barely missing a steaming mug of Arabica blend while the girls patted his arms and cooed comforting assurances as he wallowed.  

Pulled from the bathroom by thundering knocks on your apartment door, you peer cautiously through the peephole before undoing the security chain and multiple deadbolts that had been securing your apartment for the night.

"Shouto?  What are you doing here?" You ask with concern as you gesture for him to come inside.  He was in a state of absolute disarray; his hair messed uncontrollably and panting for breath.

"Here," he wheezed breathlessly, pushing a half-wilted bouquet of hydrangeas and daisies into your arms.  "I'm sorry they aren't better.  The only place open this late was the convenience store by the laundromat and these were the only flowers they had."

Cradling the sickly bouquet delicately in your arms, you raise a hand to Shouto's face, cradling his cheek gently.

"They're lovely, Shouto.  Thank you for thinking of me.  But you didn't come by my apartment this late just to give me flowers, did you?"

Shouto clutched your hand to his cheek as he shook his head.  "No, I didn't."  He took in a deep, shuddering breath as he gazed at you desperately.  "It has recently been brought to my attention that I have made a grave error in regards to how I address you."

"How you address- Oh!  Is this about all the nicknames you've been giving me?"

He closes his eyes, wincing deeply as he nods.  "I didn't realize that some animal names held derogatory connotations.  I ran over here as soon as I realized how unintentionally cruel I've been.  I couldn't stand the thought of you going a single minute longer thinking that I didn't cherish and appreciate everything about you."

"Oh, Shouto," you laugh.  "Thank you for the apology, but I figured all that out pretty early on."

"You did?"

Humming in agreement, you press yourself into Shouto's embrace, resting your head against his sharply jutting clavicle.  "You don't have a malicious bone in your body, Todoroki Shouto.  It was pretty obvious that you were being sweet.  Strange, but definitely sweet."

He sagged against you, awash with relief.  

"Thank goodness," he sighed, pressing kisses to the crown of your head as he looped his arms around you.  "I was so worried you were going to leave me."

"Please, it will take more than a few mildly insulting animal names to get rid of me."

He snorted into your hair.  "I'm sorry I called you a Cow.  And a Pig.  And a Rat.  And a Whale."

"Hey now, whales have very soulful eyes."

"Thank you!" Todoroki exclaimed. "That's what I was trying to tell the girls!"

Giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck and draw him backwards towards the couch.

"Speaking of the girls," he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a folded sheet of paper.  "They helped me come up with this list of triple vetted, pre-approved, pet names that I can use." 

You take the list from his hand, opening it up and scanning the contents before balling it up and tossing it over your shoulder.  

"Hey," Shouto protested. "We worked hard on that list!"

"And I appreciate that effort, I truly do.  But I don't want my nickname to come from Uraraka or Ashido.  I want my name to come from you."

"Yeah?" Shouto beamed, letting you pull him down onto the couch so you were both lying together, him hovering above you while you discarded the bouquet with a gentle toss onto the coffee table.  

"Uh-huh.  Think about it; there are probably thousands of Kittens and Bunnies in Musutafu.  But I'm willing to wager that I'm the only Blobfish."

"You're definitely my only Blobfish," Shouto laughed, pushing your cheeks together so your face was squished and puffy just like your animal namesake.

"Schtooop!" You sputter out from your smushed up fish lips, laughing.  

"Not until I've kissed these irresistible Blobfish lips," Shouto said, sucking in his cheeks and making a fish face of his own as he lowered his mouth towards yours, your distorted lips slotting together bizarrely.   He pulls back with an exaggeratedly wet smack, finally releasing your face back into your control.  

"Oh, that was awful," you lament, swiping at the saliva smeared across your face from your sloppy fish kiss with the hem of your shirt.

"Yeah," Shouto agreed, wiping at his own face with his shirt cuff.  "That was really bad.  Let's never do that again."

"Agreed."

He pulled you close, running a tender finger down the slope of your nose, tapping the tip playfully.  "You're still my beautiful Blobfish though."

"Whatever you say, my wonderful Walrus."

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #pigeoncoos🕊 #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n

[coopigeoncoo]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for the tag, @andypantsx3! I am both delighted and horrified to have my work regarded in a positive fashion because apparently my emotions are just like reaching blindly into a bag of trail mix; you get what you get.

But as my homeboy Socrates said, 'The unexamined life is not worth living', so it's probably beneficial for me to slow down and do some reflection on my work as a writer and appreciate the journey of growth I've been on.

So, in no particular order, here are 5 stories I've written and why I'm proud of them.

The Cardinal Rule (Hawks x Gender Neutral Reader)

A story where Hawks learns that while humans might be awed by his flying skills, the bird population is decidedly less impressed. --- "The birds are refusing to work until their demands are met," you explained, trying to subtly slide your body between Hawks and the birds who were quite literally calling for bloodshed. "Which are?" Hawks asked as he lifted the bottle of water to his mouth and took a long sip. "They, ah, want you held accountable for your numerous bird crimes." Hawks abruptly choked, water spurting from the corner of his lips as he attempted to swallow the remaining liquid as he sputtered helplessly. "My what?" He coughed, thumping solidly on his chest with a closed fist.

This one started with a late night passing thought: 'What if birds hated Hawks?' and it spiraled out of control for there. I entered into some sort of fugue state and wrote and edited the entire thing in like, three days (which is very likely a person record for me). But everything just clicked together so easily on this one- my scenes flowed well, my jokes seemed to set themselves up, and I honestly had an absolute blast writing this. This is likely the story I reread the most because I have so much fun coming back to it.

2) An Itch to Scratch (Creature!Kirishima x AFAB Reader)

Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town.  He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.   And that might actually be a bit of a problem. --- "Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin.  You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.   "Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest.  "I- can't breathe!"

I knew going in that if I was going to write a Mermay story I would want to write one that subverted expectations and common tropes. I removed the story from the typical tropical setting and plopped the Reader down into an dilapidated New England-ish fishing town, and threw in an additional surprise plot twist that I'm incredibly proud of.

I focused a lot on the world building here; on making the town and the people in it feel real and fleshed out. I really wanted to make the Reader feel connected to the situation they were dropped into and feel like I managed to do that successfully and even fell in love with the aging fishing town a bit myself.

3) Hot Dish (Shigaraki x AFAB Reader)

Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal. Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date. --- "You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Tomura glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing. "Whatever." "Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk." --- A slow, domestic romance between a volunteer at a soup kitchen and the newly destitute leader of a notorious villain organization.

Hot Dish is most popular story by far, which was honestly very surprising for me! I didn't realize how big Shigaraki's fan base was heading in because I wrote this for a server gift exchange and hadn't really read too many LOV centric stories. But I really enjoyed the challenge of trying to craft a soft romance for such a difficult character and think I managed to write a believable scenario where Shigaraki would be receptive to romance.

4) A Persistent Lack of Follow Through (Shouto x AFAB Reader)

Shouto had learned a lot from his Father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge. But one thing Endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner. Shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way. --- He had spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left. Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached: "I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table. --- A story where Shouto loves, loses, and learns.

I'm very much a happy ending sort of person, so it was a real challenge crafting a story around the prompt of 'heartbreak'. Hearts, obviously, needed to get broken; but then I wanted to try and write a believable healing journey would look like for two people in a shattered relationship. It was equal parts satisfying and frustrating building the same relationship up twice, but ultimately I feel like the relationship I depicted is stronger because of that struggle.

It was also my first time writing Todoroki Family shenanigans, which is honestly now one of my all time favorite things to do.

5) The 3-Cs of 3-A (eventual Bakugou x AFAB Reader)

This one links to Ao3 because I'm still in the process of crossposting it to Tumblr.

Mineta Minoru is a perverted misogynist whose antics should have had him expelled from UA long ago. But he wasn’t. And now it’s your job to fix him. May God have mercy on your soul. --- “Well then, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands,” Mineta purred before popping open the top two buttons on his shirt, sending you a coy look from under his lashes. “Mold me into the perfect hero, Pygmalion!  Make me your Galatea!” he screamed as he ripped open his shirt, buttons flying haphazardly through the air and pinging off the walls and floor.  You throw your arms up to cover your eyes, as though blinded by the pale skin of his belly.   “Why do you always have to make this weird?” you moan forlornly, already bending down to search along the floor for the missing buttons.  

Aaaah, my passion project. This was my first foray into writing MHA fiction and my only continual WIP. I'm constantly editing and working to improve this one because it's so important to me.

I noticed very early on that Mineta is a character that authors tend to ignore or replace entirely, so his character really appealed to me because I hadn't really ever seen it explored very thoroughly before. 3-Cs is, at it's core, a Mineta redemption story where I try to mold him into the character he could have been; but it's also a place where I get to explore a lot of my ideas about what it's like for an average person to live in a Hero-centric society.

My absolute favorite moments as a writer are when people comment on chapter 1 with messages like 'I really hate Mineta, let's see how this goes' and then 10 chapters later are posting comments like 'What have you done? I actually like this grape-flavored weirdo now.' I actually had someone mention last chapter that they now were interested in a Mineta x Reader story, so I'm putting some weird vibes out into the universe and proud of it!

I think a lot of the people that I would tag have likely already been tagged, but just in case here are some no pressure tags! @confused-red-head @grxywxrrxnn @auraxins @pikatsum @lou-struck @stellamancer @namodawrites @sipsteainanxiety

#pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

A Persistent Lack of Follow Through, Chapter 1: Wax & Wane

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

Rating: Mature 18+

Tags: Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst with a Happy Ending, Personal Growth, Drinking, Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Sex, Weddings, Child Abuse, Todoroki Enji's Bad Parenting, Abusive Todorioki Enji, Pining, Shouto is Bad at Feelings, Natural Disasters, Fire, Serious Injuries, Domestic Fluff, Implied Pregnancy

---

Shouto had learned a lot from his Father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge.

But one thing Endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner.

Shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way.

---

He had spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left. Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached:

"I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table.

---

A story where Shouto loves, loses, and learns.

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Todoroki Shouto was absolutely sure about three things.   

The first was that nearly every food tastes better cold.  Cold soba?  Classic. Cold pizza? A revelation.  Frozen peas?  No point even heating them up in his opinion. 

The second was that his small circle of friends was the best thing that had ever happened to him.  When he had been at his lowest point in life, angry, disillusioned, and simmering in a cesspool of hate and futility; they had pulled him up and showed him the possibility that laid before him if he stepped off the path his Father had set him on and paved his own way in life.  

And the third was that he had unintentionally lost the love of his life.

It was hard for him to pinpoint when exactly your relationship had started because the transition from acquaintance to friend to lover had been so seamless.  He remembered meeting you one day at Deku's agency, a quick introduction as you passed papers around the table to the necessary parties.  You hadn't stuttered or blushed at his presence, didn't try to touch him or slip your phone number into his pocket; you just passed him a Uravity branded pen with a small smile before tucking yourself into the corner to take notes during the presentation the official from Public Works and Utilities was putting on.

He liked that.

And, as time would come to reveal, he liked you.

He would wait until the News stations would cut to live footage of Deku, a brilliant bolt of green cutting through the sky, to call his private line; knowing his calls would be rerouted to your desk.  

"Shouto!" You laughed into the receiver, unaware of the frantic beating of his heart that left him slightly winded. "You aren't going to believe this, but you just missed Deku.  Again!"

"Really?" He says, doing his best to sound surprised.

"Yes!  I'm starting to think this isn't coincidental."

"Oh?" Shouto gulps, stomach in knots at the idea that you're cottoning on to his grand machinations to talk to you every week.

"Do you have an additional Quirk you're keeping up your sleeve?"

"I don't think Bad Timing is much of a Quirk," Shouto snorts.  "But even so, you would know if I had three Quirks.  My Father would have mentioned it in every interview if I did.  The first known child with three individual Quirks would just have been another feather in his cap."

"I can blame Endeavor for a lot of things, but bragging about you is completely understandable.  You make everyone who knows you proud, Shouto."

Shouto wondered if you counted yourself in that group.  He hoped you did.  The idea that you would watch footage of him swooping onto the scene of a disaster and feel a blossom of fondness unfurl in your chest as he worked made him feel dizzy; completely overwhelmed by the implications of what that might mean.  

"Anyway, enough of me blathering on and wasting your time.  Would you like to leave a message for Deku?" You inquired, the sound of a pen sharply clicking in the background as you awaited Shouto's instructions.  

"Ah- it's not important.  I'll try back later."

"Well, with your luck I'm sure I'll be talking to you then!" You laugh, a joyous sort of snort that always makes Shouto smile. 

"I certainly hope so," Shouto smirked, knowing full well that luck had nothing to do with it. Happiness wasn't an accident, it had to be worked for just like everything else worthwhile in life.  

He had spent too many years living a life that had been curated by someone else's hand.  Until the day he died he was determined to leave nothing to chance.

Todoroki Shouto would craft his own good fortune.

"You should go home," Shouto croaked, his voice rough from exhaustion as he ruffled a weary hand through his bangs.  He'd been stationed at the long conference table at Deku's agency all day, reviewing the details of a sting operation that had been planned for months now.  The last push before the start of an operation was always brutal, with everyone checking and rechecking every detail to minimize collateral damage.  The rest of the team had filtered out hours ago, leaving Shouto agonizing over a stack of search warrants from the DA's office.

"That's rich, coming from you.  You'd already clocked a few hours by the time I showed up to work this morning," you snorted, feeding a stack of classified documents into the jaws of a paper shredder. 

"There isn’t even anything for you to be doing here so late.”

“I’m a Hero Assistant.  So long as there’s a Hero around,” you paused in your shredding to point at Shouto. “I’m supposed to be of assistance,” you finish, motioning to yourself with a flourish. 

“I don’t need any assistance.” 

“Oh?  Who is it that got you multiple cups of tea over the past three hours?  Or contacted your secretary to push back your morning appointments?  And who has been coming behind you and reorganizing all the paperwork you’ve been shuffling all out of order?” you paused during your tirade to tap your lips in mock thoughtfulness.  “That’s right- it was me.”

Shouto paused and looked around at the pristinely organized stacks of files surrounding him and the steaming cup of genmaicha at his elbow.  

“Oh.” 

Snorting, you swivel your chair back around to face the shredder, pulling a paperclip from the top of a folder before pushing it into the shredder teeth.  

“Thank you,” Shouto said as he gazed down at the table, mortified by his oversight.  “And I’m sorry.  For not noticing all the work you were doing for me.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him with a tired smile. “You’re a good man, Shouto.  I want to support you in any way I can.” 

“Because it’s your job?”

“No,” you admitted, scratching at your ear bashfully as you examined a particularly interesting spot on the carpet.  “Not just because of that.”          

Despite the late hour and the fact that he knew that the last trains of the night would be pulling into the station soon, Shouto was suddenly in much less of a hurry to send you on your way.

While you were busy emptying the shredder drum into a large trash bag Shouto surreptitiously slid one of the files from the table onto the floor, pushing his gear bag over top of it.  

“Oh no,” he gasped exaggeratedly.  “It looks like I'm missing the file from the Mayor's Office.  Have you seen it?"

"What?" You yelp in horror, rushing over to Shouto's side; grabbing a stack of files and flipping through them with a level of expertise and precision Shouto couldn't help but admire.  "Oh, this is awful!   We're going to have to search until we find it!  It's too important to leave it unaccounted for."

"I'm sure it will turn up," Shouto said as he ran a consoling hand between your shoulder blades. "You're very tense."

"Well, we've somehow managed to misplace a collection of important documents.  A little bit of tension is warranted, I think."

Shouto increased the pressure of his hand, warming it slightly and delighting when he felt your muscles slacken under his palm.  

"Oooooh," you moaned, dropping your head down towards your chest.  "That feels heavenly, Shouto."

"Here," Shouto said as he gripped your shoulders and guided you to sit down in one of the plush office chairs, sliding into the one next to you.  

"Panicking won't help matters.  Let's take a deep breath, relax, and work together to find that folder.”

“You’re right,” you admitted with a weary sigh, eyeing the towering stack of folders you had to meticulously sift through.  “This is going to take forever, isn’t it?”

“It will,” Shouto hummed in agreement, sipping at his cooling tea with one hand while sliding a folder in front of him with the other. “But I couldn’t ask for better company to spend forever with.”  

Shouto couldn’t help but grin at your garbled response, shifting his focus down to the file in front of him to give you a moment to center yourself and regather your wits.  You eventually were able to mumble your thanks before you distracted yourself by diving into the monumental workload before you.     

The hours ticked by, full of talking and laughter and breathless moments where knees or hands would brush softly against each other.  You had originally chalked the glancing touches as accidental, the result of exhaustion and waning focus taking hold in the early morning hours.  But each brief touch was paired with an intense stare and gentle smile from Todoroki that eventually bolstered your courage enough for you to dare to run a timid finger along the inside of his wrist- his pulse thundering despite his calm exterior.  A barely audible gasp escaped his lips when you settled your hand down next to his, your much smaller pinky nestled up next to his.  

Without a single moment of hesitation, he linked your little fingers together with a pleased hum; squeezing your smaller digit with his warmer one.        

He should have known better, should have realized that the break in his Father's defense was a calculated feint instead of the result of dealing with the onslaught of Shouto's tiny fists.  But he was young- inexperienced and zealous; desperate to meet the expectations set so far overhead he wasn't sure he'd ever be tall enough to reach them.  

The feel of his Father’s massive palm impacting his chest was expected, but frustrating nonetheless.  And in his haste to make contact- to touch his Father, to hit his Father, to hurt his Father- he had shifted his feet from their bracing stance and was unable to stay standing in the aftermath of the blow.  Shouto went down hard and landed poorly, his shoulder grinding into the tatami below him as he let out a pained yelp.  

“You did well to see the opening I left for you,” his Father said as he rose from the cushion he’d been sitting on, striding slowly across the room towards him.    

Shouto hated how his heart leapt at the faint praise while his body cowered in fear.  It was unfair to make someone feel such different feelings at the same time; too confusing and cruel for him to understand.  

He hoped it made sense when he was older.       

Enji stopped a hair's breadth away from Shouto’s prone form, his foot running the length of Shouto’s torso.  It was a bodily measurement Shouto was painfully aware of as he’d spent many evenings in front of a mirror, examining the bruises those feet left behind; sickly purple toe prints curling along his clavicle and a mottled heel across his soft belly.   

“But you gave up every advantage that you had the moment you felt like you had the upper hand.  You can’t assume that you’ve won.  You need to make sure of it,” Enji snapped.  “Your lack of follow through will get you hurt out in the field, or worse.” 

Even though he knew it was coming, even though he braced for the impact, the feeling of his Father’s foot slamming into his injured shoulder was agonizing; a sharp and blinding pain that left Shouto gasping for breath.  

“Remember this pain,” Enji huffed as he made his way towards the door, pushing it open in one swift motion.  “Learn from it.  Or the lesson will be repeated.”

Enji didn’t wait for a response as he slid the door closed behind him the same way he did everything; with too much force and without looking back.      

Like all Heroes, Shouto was accustomed to making split second decisions.  So when Deku had bemoaned the early departure his office gofer (which, as Shouto recently learned from a strongly worded email from HR, is someone who runs miscellaneous errands and not what you call employees with unspecified Rodent Quirks), Shouto was quick to make the most of this unexpected opportunity. 

Unclipping his cellphone from his belt, he silently slid it down into the seat of the chair he'd been occupying during the quarterly Task Force meeting at Deku's agency before bidding his friends and colleagues farewell and heading back to his agency at a brisk jog.

Knowing you, he only had a few minutes to act before you did your routine after-the-meeting sweep of the conference room, where you would inevitably discover his abandoned phone.  

"Good day," Shouto said, throwing his long-time receptionist a smile and a small wave as he breezed in through the entrance to his office.  "I have a lot of very pressing work.  Can you order some lunch for me?  Suzumiya's, if it's possible?"

"Of course, Sir.  I'll call right away."

With a parting wave he shut his office door behind him and sped to his desk, throwing himself into his leather office chair with such force that his momentum sent the chair spinning out across the floor. 

"Oh, come on- ," Shouto huffed, kicking off the wall with two feet and propelling himself back towards his desk, chair wheels squeaking in protest of his rough handling.  He reached his destination just in time to watch the red light on his desk phone click off, indicating the end of his receptionist's call for take-out.  

Shouto picked up his receiver and quickly punched in the number for his favorite restaurant, anxiously drumming his fingers on his navy blue desk pad as he waited for his call to be picked up.

"Hello," Shouto greeted pleasantly once he was connected. "I would like to place an order for delivery."

"Shouto! " You called out through gasping breaths as you burst through his office door, phone held aloft over your head.  "I- I have your- have your phone!"

Shouto was at your side in the blink of an eye, guiding you to sit in one of his guest chairs with a hand at your waist, fingers splayed wide over your hip in an effort to feel as much of you as possible during the brief moment of contact allotted to him. 

"Here, why don't you sit down and catch your breath for a moment?" 

"That's- that's a good- idea, " you pant, collapsing bonelessly into the chair and letting your head loll over the back rest, closing your eyes as you heaved deep gasping breaths.  Shouto smiled down fondly at you before plucking his phone out of your loose grasp, pocketing it before running a chilled hand across your clammy forehead.  

The moan you let when his cold hand hit your warm forehead was positively salacious and Shouto couldn't quiet the whisper in the back of his head that insisted that sound would be better suited for a more intimate setting.  

"You know, if you ever get tired of the Hero life, you and those hands would make an absolute killing as a masseuse," you joked as his chilly fingers traced free-form shapes across your forehead. 

"Oh?  So I make you feel good?" Shouto purred, kicking the temperature of his fingers down a couple of degrees when he felt your face burning under his touch.  

“I- well, that is-,” you stammer nervously, your chest beginning to heave from something other than physical exertion.  You’re saved from answering by a knock on the office door, Shouto’s secretary slipping into the room with her arms full of carry out bags.  

“Sir?  I think there was a mix-up at the restaurant.  They sent way more food than what I ordered.” 

“Hmm.  Well, these things do happen,” Shouto replied magnanimously, patting your cheek to signal the end of your impromptu massage.  “I’m sure you didn’t get a chance to eat before rushing over here, so why don’t you stay and have lunch with me?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t.  I already have lunch back at the office,” you objected half-heartedly, the aroma emanating from the brown paper bags making your mouth water.  Whatever was in the bags his secretary had dropped off onto his desk smelled far more appetizing than the leftovers you had shoved into the break room fridge that morning.    

“You would be doing me a favor, honestly,” Shouto pleaded as he opened the bags and began pulling out a seemingly endless series of containers.  “This is way more food than I could possibly eat by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” He nodded, moving to sit on top of his desk.  “Consider it a thank you gesture for returning my phone so promptly.”  

“Well, how could I resist an offer like that?” you laughed, quickly popping open one of the containers of yakisoba.    

“I didn’t think you would,” Shouto whispered to himself, biting into a dumpling with a wide smile on his face. 

“Wha’ was tha’?” you mumble from around a mouthful of food, swallowing quickly before continuing. “I missed what you said just then.” 

“Oh, nothing,” Shouto assured you.  “Just talking to myself.”

“Well, I can’t blame you for that,” you grinned, peering curiously into the open containers surrounding Shouto, reaching into the one by his hip and grabbing a stir-fried carrot.  “You’re a lot of fun to talk to.”

“I am?”

“Definitely.  In fact, I wouldn’t mind talking to you again sometime.  When we’re, you know, not at work,” you reply bashfully, gaze darting between Shouto’s wide eyes and the chopsticks that were beginning to bow in your over-tight grasp.  

“I would like that a lot,” he agreed breathlessly as joy clogged up his lungs, pushing out the air and making it hard to breathe through his exultation.  

“Good!  Good.  That’s good.  So we should, uh- we should do that, then!” 

The phone you had returned was in Shouto’s hands in record time, his lunch set aside as he brought up his calendar with a few quick taps.  

“Just name the time and place and I’ll be there,” he replied earnestly, eyes soft as he watched you spring for your purse to dig out your own phone to coordinate your schedules for your date.    

Word had spread quickly across both his and Deku’s agencies about the budding romance happening during work hours.  Your coworkers were impressively motivated to find every opportunity to force you into crossing paths, which Shouto was deeply and eternally grateful for.  Every misrouted letter and surprise last-minute meeting provided Shouto with ample opportunities for stolen kisses and lingering touches during the day.  Without their loving interference he’d be forced to endure impossibly long stretches of time without being able to regularly remind himself of what your lip balm tasted like. 

A seemingly endless series of talk show interviews had kept you separated for the first half of the week, the unfortunate consequence of having saved a well-known politician's son when a fire broke out at his nursery school.  Shouto was beyond anxious to see you again, speeding through the security checks at Deku’s agency in record time.  He tapped his foot off-beat from the quiet elevator music, a subtle orchestral version of the old All Might cartoon theme, while he waited impatiently for the elevator to crawl to the top floor.

Bounding out before the doors were even fully open, Shouto ground to a halt almost immediately at the sight that awaited him.  

The tallest man Shouto had ever seen was leaning over you while you sat at your desk, doubled over at the waist to bring his face level to yours.  He was wearing a tan suit that, while standard, was cut well and flattered his overlong form; loathe as Shouto was to admit it.  You were laughing- no, worse - you were giggling at something he'd said with a luminescent smile painted across your face.

Well, that simply wouldn't do.  

With renewed purpose, Shouto slowed his pace down to a stride, shoulders back and chest out in the way that Fuyumi assured him radiated confidence and his Mother said made him look very dashing and handsome.  

Natsuo had told him it looked like he was desperately trying to hold in a fart, but considering his extensive list of dating failures Shouto wasn't putting too much stock in his brother's divergent opinion.  But to err on the side of caution, he relaxed his gluteal muscles a fraction- just in case. 

“Shouto!” You chirped happily when you finally noticed his approach.  “Are you ready for lunch?”

“I already called ahead to the restaurant.  They have a table waiting for us.”

“We should probably hurry along then,” you said, pushing away from your desk and standing up.  “It was great to talk to you again, Takai.  I’m glad your business trip went well.  Maybe we can meet up for coffee soon?”

The man, Takai, straightened up as you stood, still hunching slightly to avoid bumping into the sprinkler head positioned directly above your desk.  

“That would be lovely.  It seems like we have a lot to catch up on,” he replied affably, giving Shouto a quick once over before turning away in an obvious dismissal.  

“I just need to duck back into the conference room really quickly to grab my sweater and then we can head out.  It should just take a minute,” you explained as you threw your purse over your shoulder and sped towards the door at the end of the hall.  Both men watched your retreat with fond looks on their faces that disappeared the moment they caught each other’s gaze.      

“I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to officially make each other’s acquaintance.  My name is Takai Seiji.  I’m the lead accountant in the Finance Department.”

“Pro Hero Shouto.”

“I know who you are,” Takai stated coolly, turning to face Shouto.  “But more importantly, I know what, or should I say who, you want.”

“I want for nothing,” Shouto assured him, baring his teeth with a bright smile.  “I have everything I could possibly desire.”

“For now, perhaps.  I’m not naive enough to think that I can compete with the thrill of dating a Professional Hero.  Expense Reports just aren’t that stimulating to most,” Takai conceded with a sigh, a long fingered hand scratching at his eyebrow in frustration. “But the bloom on the rose won’t last forever, and I am a very patient man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shouto bristled, waving stiffly down the hall to you as you made your way back towards your desk.    

“I guess this is just my way of informing you of my intentions,” Takai said with a saccharine smile, extending a hand out in a performative show of goodwill.  “May the best man win.”

“I'm certain I already have,” Shouto replied, his grin razor sharp as he grasped Takai's hand firmly in his, refusing to wince as Takai’s rope-like fingers tightened around his hand like a vice.  He abruptly dropped the temperature of his hand in retaliation, a spike of satisfaction shooting through him when Takai hissed in discomfort.

“Well, it sure looks like you two are getting along famously!” you say as you sidle up next to Shouto, taking their handshake to be a show of geniality and not the crushing test of masculine endurance it actually was. 

“Of course!” Takai replied cheerfully as he pulled his hand back to his side, curling and uncurling his fingers to increase the circulation to his tingling fingertips.  “We have a lot in common, Shouto and I.”  

"Oh?  Like what?"

"We both hold a deep appreciation for the finer things in life," Shouto murmured sweetly as he threaded your fingers together, gently cradling your smaller hand in his.  

"Shouto !" you giggled, bringing a hand up to push his face away from your neck, his eyelashes tickling you as they fluttered rapidly against your skin.

"Hmm?" He hummed through the kiss he was pressing to the juncture of your shoulder, releasing his lips with a wet pop as he pulled away from you.  "What is it?"

"I have to get up!  I'm going to be late for work."

"Do you have to?" Shouto grumbled, dropping his weight off of his arms to press you down into the mattress, trapping you beneath him.

"Yes!  Five days a week!"

"Can't you skip it?" Shouto whined, running his hands up your sides, fingers tracing looping circles under the hem of your night shirt.  

"You can't just skip an audit from the Government, Shouto," you said, ruffling your fingers through the part in his hair, delighting in watching the red and white strands mix together into a rosy hue.  

"Call in sick then."

"I'm not sick."

"No, but I am," Shouto croaked, coughing unconvincingly into his closed fist. "You need to stay home and take care of me."

"Shouto-"

"Oh, I think I'm developing a fever," he whined, pulling one of your hands up to rest on his forehead. "See?  I'm getting warmer."

"Hmmm, you are warm.  But only on one side of your body.  How odd.  I wonder what the cause of that could possibly be," you snort, pushing at his shoulder with your free hand until he deigned to roll off of you with a sigh, taking the blankets with him.  

"A half-body fever sounds very serious.  I probably shouldn't be left alone."

"Very true," you said, tossing open the closet door and rifling through the section reserved for your work clothes.  "I'll text Iida and see if he can run by to check on you a couple times today."

"Oh, that's alright.  No need to bother him.  I think my fever might be breaking anyway," Shouto dismissed, the flush on his right cheek vanishing in an instant.  

"It's an Audit Day miracle!" You cheer, buttoning up your blouse while Shouto sulked in his blanket nest.  With a soft smile, you crawl back onto the bed and press a quick good-bye kiss to his deeply pouting lips.  

"Rest up and enjoy your day off.  Once the Audit is done I'll take the rest of the day and come home early.  Want me to bring dinner back with me?"

"No, I'll cook something since I'll be home," Shouto said, lifting his arms above his head as he yawned, pausing mid-stretch when his words caught up with him.

"Home, huh?" You grin brightly back at him as you sling your purse over your neck and fish around in the side pocket for your keys.  

"I mean- I'll be here.   Here in your home.  Not my home.  Because I don't live here," Shouto stammered, somehow nervous about how you would respond to the implication of cohabitation- a topic that had yet to come up during your time together.  

"It's fine, Shouto. I like that you're so comfortable at my place; that it feels like home to you," you reassure him. "Maybe one day it will be.  Your home, I mean," you stumble, fiddling with your keys in a sudden bout of sheepishness.  

"Yeah?" Shouto asked, sitting up straighter in bed, the covers pooling around his waist as he focused his attention solely on you, which did absolutely nothing to help calm the erratic thundering of your heart.  

"Yeah," you agreed with no hesitation, taking in the sight of your handsomely disheveled boyfriend tangled up in your bedding and relishing the bubbly warmth it filled your heart with.  

"Well then, I guess I'll see you when you get home," Shouto said, waving good-bye as you closed the door behind you and made your way out of the apartment and across town.  With a dopey grin stretching across his face, Shouto falls backwards into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, taking in the little hints of you littered throughout the room. 

Knickknacks and souvenirs from trips long past shoved into tiny slivers of space between novels on the bookcase, mismatched picture frames spread across the top of your dresser and desk, the lingering smell of your sweat and shampoo wafting up from the pillow under his cheek.

"Home, " he sighed fondly.

The Audit, while stressful, was proceeding as well as expected.  Takai ran a tight ship in the accounting department so you knew the books would be nothing short of immaculate.  You could tell that he was deeply confident with what results of the inspection would be as he glided around the room, chest puffed out with pride and a self-assured grin on his face, seemingly daring anyone to find a misplaced decimal or inaccurate sum. 

The most daunting part of the process was the presence of the Lead Auditor, a severe looking older woman without a single laugh line amongst the creases in her face and an aloof demeanor that reminded you of your high school Geography teacher in all the worst ways.  She had cleaved to your side immediately upon entering the building, flipping through a report summary while you confirmed dates and times of specific purchases on Deku's professional calendar on your work phone. 

Your working cell was an unwieldy thing, extremely sensitive with an overly large screen that made it easier for viewing documents out on the go.  The larger screen also allowed for the very unprofessional and very intimate picture of Shouto that popped up in a full-screen preview to be seen with an astounding amount of detail and clarity.

Shouto was posed in front of your stove, a frying pan in hand and a spatula in the other as he winked rakishly over his shoulder, his back totally bare except for where the floral straps of your apron crossed his hips.  The swath of exposed flesh continued on well past his waist though, the start of his callipygian cleft easily discernible above the bottom edge of the photo.  

The photo was mercifully pushed from your screen by an incoming text message which, much to your dawning horror, was also from Shouto:

"Dinner (and me) are ready whenever you are ;)"

"Oh, God," you squeaked, mortified that your boyfriend had inadvertently flashed his butt to a government official.  You tapped the screen wildly to hide the text, accidentally opening the messaging app in your haste and zooming in on Shouto's exposed derriere.

"OH, GOD," you squealed, desperately fumbling for the power button before giving up entirely and slamming the phone screen down onto a nearby desk.  Face burning, you hazard a glance at the Lead Auditor, gaze settling somewhere in the vicinity of her nose since you were pretty sure you'd never be able to look her in the eyes again without melting in shame.  

"I'm so, so sorry-," you begin to stammer, coming to an abrupt halt at her raised hand.

"This has certainly been the most… revealing Audit I've overseen in a very long time," she responded evenly, her face stoic and completely unreadable.  "I believe the ladies back at the office will be just as interested in my findings."

You drop your head into your hands, moaning piteously as she shuffled through her packet of papers with a satisfied hum.

"Alright, Team!" She barked out loudly, startling everyone in the room except for her employees, who seemed accustomed to suddenly being yelled at by their boss in the middle of the work day.  

"Wrap up what you're doing and get ready to head out.  We'll take our copies and finish things up back at the office.  We've taken up enough of their time today.  I'm sure everyone is very anxious to get home," she said as she stared meaningfully at you, her lips curling infinitesimally at the corners.

You nodded weakly in acknowledgement, waiting until she turned away to chew out one of her subordinates before picking up your phone with shaking hands, relieved to see the screen had shut off and locked during its exile.  

"Shouto, you little shit, " you hiss quietly at your phone, angrily navigating back to his cheeky photo and pressing the 'save image' button so hard you're mildly surprised your screen didn't crack.  

"You're lucky you're so damn handsome."

You loved how the world shrank in these moments, how there was nothing else to focus on than the feeling of your legs locked around Shouto's waist as his hips rocking gently into yours, the scratchiness of your clearance rack sheets rubbing against your back, your heaving breaths synchronizing with the ticking of your wall clock.

In these brief instances Shouto was yours and yours alone.  Every moment he was in your arms and bed was an opportunity to selfishly hoard him to yourself; to keep him from his fans and his friends and the broken fragments of his family.  

You wanted desperately to be good, to be selfless and understanding of his duties and responsibilities.  But as he moaned your name brokenly into your shoulder as his hips stuttered, you couldn't help the greedy though that spun through your brain on repeat- more.

"More, Shouto," you gasped, tightening your thighs to keep him in place inside of you.  "I want more."

"Whatever you want," Shouto swore, tongue swiping over the hammering pulse in your neck.

"I just want you."

"Good," Shouto smiled, his eyes creasing happily.  "Because I just want you, too."

"Would it be possible to have a moment of your time before you head back to your agency, Shouto?" You asked while fluttering around the long conference table, scooping up abandoned report summaries and recapping borrowed pens. 

"Of course," Shouto agreed readily, bidding farewell to the other Heroes as they filed out of the room and into the hallway, snagging the complimentary sandwiches and pieces of fruit you had spent the morning artfully arranging as they left.  

Souto waited for the conference room door to close before he swooped in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.  

"There we go," Shouto sighed contentedly.  "I've been waiting to do that all morning."

You buried your nose into the shoulder of his Hero uniform, breathing in the scent of his freshly laundered suit.  Whatever they used to make the fabric withstand the extreme elemental onslaught of Shouto's Quirks imbued the cloth with an acrid sort of smell that you'd likely never get fully used to, but had come to tolerate with time.  

"You had a question for me?" Shouto asked, the rumbling of his words passing through his chest and into yours, the timbre of his voice echoing inside you.  

"I did," you murmured contentedly, reluctantly pulling away from the cradle of Shouto's arms to look him in the eye.  "A group of my friends are coming in from out of town this weekend.  I know it's short notice, but I was wondering if you'd like to meet them?"

"Oh," Shouto replied evenly, his muscles tensing minutely under your fingertips.  "Is it really a good time for that?"

"What do you mean?"

"It just seems, I don't know, too soon to be doing that sort of thing?"

"We've been dating for months now, Shouto.  It's getting to be time for this sort of thing," you insist. "Besides, I've already met all of your friends!"

"That's different.  You work with them," Shouto chuckled.

"I mean, yeah, but the principle is still the same!" You huffed, slackening your arms and letting them drop back down to your side, leaving Shouto's arms drooped loosely around your waist.  "I'm not even sure the next time we'll all be together again.  I haven't seen some of them in nearly a year!"

"All the more reason for you to go alone.  I wouldn't want to interrupt your visit. You should go and spend some quality time with your friends and catch up," he encouraged, holding your chin in place as he dropped gentle kisses down your face; first your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips.  "I have to go now, but we'll talk more later, alright?"

"Yes!  Oh, I'm sorry I kept you for so long," you apologized, pulling yourself out of his embrace, fiddling with your hands as he threw his work bag over his shoulder and jogged out the door, throwing a quick parting wave over his shoulder before he disappeared down the hallway.  With a disappointed sigh you went back to work straightening the conference room; pushing in chairs and making sure all the confidential documents made it into the shredding pile.

"We'll talk later," you nod resolutely to yourself, mentally constructing points and counterpoints for a conversation that would never come. 

"It's such a bummer your boyfriend couldn't make it!" Your friend commiserated, stabbing at a tomato in her salad and giving a frustrated grunt when it rolled out from underneath the tines of her fork.  

"Yeah!  We were looking forward to meeting him!" Another chimed in from down the table, doing her best to maintain balance on her overly large margarita glass without elbowing the other women squeezed in on either side of her.   

"Things are good between you?" Your friend asked, biting down victoriously on the tomato skewered on the end of her fork, pulling a disgruntled face as she chewed.  "Ugh, it's mealy."

"Things are great!" You assured them, pushing a piece of broccoli across your plate with a cold french fry.  "It's just still early, you know?  We're still learning about each other, feeling out boundaries, that sort of stuff."

Your friends all made various noises of understanding, waiting for you to elaborate more on your situation.  When no further explanation came, they shot knowing looks across the table at each other before sending you supportive smiles; your friend at the very end flagging down a waitress to order you another drink.   

"No biggie!  We'll meet them the next time we visit!" 

"Right.  Next time for sure!" you agreed readily, not liking how much that felt like a lie on your tongue.  

You were putting the finishing touches on dinner, everything prepared and ready for plating when you felt a firm tugging on your apron strings.  

"Hold on, I'm almost done here," you chuckled, doing your best to ignore the pulling at your waist as you popped open the lid of the rice cooker, shoving in the paddle and giving the grains a good fluff.  

"It can wait, can't it?" Shouto asked, running his fingers down the bare skin of your neck, his chilly fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.  You moaned at the feel of his cool hands against your dewy skin, your body overwarm from a combination of exertion and the additional heat from the stove and countertop oven running simultaneously.  

"What's important enough to delay dinner after a long day?" You asked, leaning your neck back into the chilly cradle of Shouto's hand with a pleased hum.

"I heard a song today."

"Oh?  What sort of song?"

"One that made me think of you," Shouto answered coyly.  "A romantic one- sweet and soft.  All I could think about all day was coming home, turning on that song, and dancing with you."

"I can't wait to hear it," you said, abandoning your paddle in the rice and turning to slide your arms up over Shouto's shoulders and around his neck.

"Well, here's the thing,” he grimaced. “I got so distracted listening to it that I forgot to look it up.  And then I had to answer a call about a robbery in progress and by the time I got through with that I couldn't recall any of the lyrics-"

"And now you can't find it," you giggled.

"And now I can't find it," Shouto agreed, sighing in obvious dismay.  "But, I was hoping you'd still be willing to grant me the incredible honor of dancing with you.”

“How could I possibly say no to a request like that?” you said softly, taking his hand in yours and letting him pull you out into the living room, leading you in a lazy two-step around the ottoman as he hummed an unfamiliar melody; a song meant for you that you’d never know.    

Shouto wasn't expecting to have his legs suddenly swept out from under him, but experience had honed his reflexes well and his arms shot out to slow his descent, preventing his face from impacting the ground at full speed.  His cheek was still smashed into the floor, it was unavoidable at the speed he was falling, but he would walk away from this fight with just a fat lip instead of spitting out teeth.

He quickly rolled onto his back, flexing his fingers and attempting to summon up his Quirks, but one look at his teacher's floating hair and gleaming red eyes instantly revealed the futility of his actions. 

"I yield," Shouto sighed as he let his arms flop down onto the ground, plumes of ash leftover from his fiery attacks shooting into the air around him at the impact.

"We've been over this before, Todoroki," Aizawa sighed, unwinding his capture scarf from Shouto’s ankle and draping it back into place around his shoulders.  "You're one of the strongest students in this school, but it's a different story out in the real world.  Turning your back on an opponent before you've confirmed victory is a surefire way to guarantee your Mother spends her weekend planning your funeral."

Despite knowing his teacher was a good man who wouldn't raise his hands except in defense, Shouto couldn't stop himself from wincing at the sound of Aizawa's approach; his body bracing instinctually for a blow that would never come.  Instead of the anticipated foot, a hand was extended instead; helping lift Shouto from the ground and pat remaining bits of ash from the sleeve of his shirt.  

"Your hits are connecting well," Aizawa assured him.  "You just need to follow through."

"Yes, Sir,” Shouto grumbled. “I'm well aware."

You’d have recognize Shouto’s sister anywhere.  Even if you hadn’t seen the entire Todoroki Family’s faces plastered over every gossip magazine for months when the terrible truth about their homelife had surfaced, the staggering list of features shared between them would have been an immediate give away.  It was strange in a way, seeing the face you adored copied and pasted onto an entirely different person; a feeling of familiarity carried by a stranger.  

“Shouto, look!” you said, tugging on his sleeve to gain his attention.  “Your sister is here!”

“My sister-,” Shouto muttered, looking up from the binder in his hands in alarm.  

“Shouto!” Fuyumi called out as she approached, waving cheerily at her brother, who raised a stiff hand back in greeting.  

“What are you doing here, Fuyumi?” Shouto asked, his brow wrinkled in bewilderment.  “Is Mom alright?”

“Mom’s totally fine.  Can’t a big sister drop by and visit her baby brother sometimes?”

“I…don’t know?  Can they?”  

“They can,” you nodded sagely, drawing Fuyumi’s attention away from her brother and onto yourself.  

“Oh, and who do we have here?” she drawled with a smile, taking in the miniscule distance between you and Shouto.  Nervousness flooded your body- this was it.  Your first time meeting a member of your Boyfriend’s family.  Determined to make a good first impression, you swallowed down your anxiety, stepped away from Shouto’s side, and extended a clammy hand towards Fuyumi.  

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.  I’m-”

“Deku’s Assistant!” Shouto shouted, cutting off your introduction and slapping the binder into your extended hand, causing you to frantically fumble for the plummeting notebook as it tumbled from your grasp.  

“Really?” Fuyumi huffed in disappointment, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully at you as you gripped the binder tightly to your chest.    

“Yep,” you croaked, mortification clogging your throat.  “That’s me, Deku’s Assistant.” 

“And she’s very, very busy,” Shouto explained with a strained smile.  “In fact, she was just getting ready to leave and head back to Deku’s agency, right?”            

“Right.  I’ll just- be going now,” you murmured, nodding at Fuyumi in acknowledgement as you passed.  “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” she replied, slipping into the place you deserted at Shouto’s side and pulling out her phone to show him something on her screen.  Fuyumi waved a cheery farewell to you as the elevator doors closed while Shotou’s focus remained glued to the phone in front of him, pointedly ignoring you as you departed.   

You were very proud of yourself for making it all the way to the first floor bathrooms before you broke down into tears.

The texts from Shouto started filtering in during your walk back to work, an unending series of chimes that had you rushing to turn off your phone when a group of old ladies started to loudly complain to each other about the noise.  And despite the anxiety you felt for the rest of the work day, you couldn’t bring yourself to read the texts until you were home and curled up in bed, pillows propped up behind you and a mug of herbal tea rapidly cooling on your nightstand.

“Here we go,” you sighed morosely, holding down the power button and watching your screen flair to life.  Your home screen was peaceful for a moment before your cell connected to the Wi-Fi in your apartment and was suddenly buffeted by waves of incoming messages and missed call notifications.  With a fortifying sip of tea, you open up your messaging app and select your chat log with Shouto.    

Shouto, 1:35pm “I’m so, so sorry about the thing with Fuyumi today.”

Shouto, 1:37pm “My family doesn’t know that I’m seeing anyone, and if Fuyumi finds out then everyone would know by the end of the day.  I love her, but she’s a terrible gossip.”  

Shouto, 1:40pm “The last thing I want is for my Father to know about you.”

Shouto: 1:41pm “He has a way of ruining everything good in my life.”

Shouto 1:41pm “And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Shouto, 1:59pm “I just panicked.”  

Shouto, 2:10pm “I know that’s no excuse, but it’s what happened.”

Shouto, 2:15pm “How can I make this up to you?”

Shouto, 2:30pm “I feel awful.”

Shouto 2:40pm “Did you get back to work okay?”

Shouto, 2:45 “Your commute shouldn’t be this long.”

Missed Call: Shouto, 2:45pm

Missed Call: Shouto, 2:46pm

Shouto, 2:47pm “Are you getting these messages?”

Missed Call: Shouto, 2:48pm

Missed Call: Shouto, 2:48pm

Shouto, 2:49pm “Please, pick up.” 

Missed Call: Shouto, 2:50pm

Shouto, 2:51pm “Can you please call me?  Let me know that you’re safe?”

Shouto, 3:02pm “I called Deku.  He says that you arrived back to work and are very busy.”

Shouto, 3:03pm “I’m so relieved that you’re alright.” 

Shouto, 3:33pm “I’m sorry for all the messages.  I was really worried.” 

Shouto, 5:16pm “Can you text me when you get home?”  

Shouto, 5:17pm “So we can talk about today?” 

Sobbing in frustration, you wipe at your wet cheeks with the back of your hand as you try and formulate a response, writing and erasing entire paragraphs of text a handful of times before giving up.  

“I was just caught off guard by your response to Fuyumi and got tied up with work stuff.  It's okay.”  You send in response; an easy lie because you were too tired to contend with the truth and all the unpleasant thoughts it would bring to the surface. 

“My family knows all about you,” you whisper to your home screen, a photo of you and Shouto in front of a gaggle of hungry ducks you’d discovered on a walk one morning.  “I honestly can’t stop talking about you.  Do you- do you ever talk about me ?” you whisper brokenly through your sobs.  

You’re pulled from your misery by the chiming of an incoming message, not from Shouto this time, but from Takai.  Worried there was some emergency situation at work, a common occurrence when you worked at a Hero Agency, you hurriedly open the incoming text.    

Takai, 8:45pm “I know it’s late, but I just wanted to check in and see how you were.  You looked pretty upset at work this afternoon.  Is there anything I can do to help?”

With a book tucked under his arm, Shouto moved to join you on the couch, pulling back the edge of the plush throw blanket you were curled up under and shoving his legs in, tangling them up with yours just like he'd done countless times before.  Normally, this would be a prime opportunity for Shouto to let his playful side out, either warming his leg until the heat underneath the blanket became unbearable or chilling his toes and shoving them under your shirt to hear you squeal.  

But the wrinkled skin between your brows as you stared unblinkingly at your phone screen gave him pause; your dour pensiveness causing a bubble of concern to well up inside of him.  

"You okay?" He questioned, rubbing a hand soothingly along your shin.

"I- yeah.  Yeah.  I'm alright," you sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face in frustration. 

"Really?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, looking at Shouto over the top of your phone.  "Can I- can I ask you a question?"

"Of course.  Anything," Shouto replied solemnly, dropping his book down onto his lap to give you his full attention.  

"Do you ever think of the future?  About what your life- our life, will look like years from now?" You murmur, curling your toes in between the couch cushions to distract yourself as you wait for his answer.

"As a Hero there is never a guarantee of tomorrow, so I do my best to focus on the present.  Appreciate the here and now," he explained with a gentle smile as he knocked his knees against yours playfully.  

"And besides, what is there to change?  You can't improve on perfection, after all."

"Of course," you agreed with a hesitant nod of your head, sending a tight but reassuring smile Shouto's way as you directed your attention back to your phone, staring once again at a picture of one of your high school friends.  His grinning face filled the screen, looking well groomed and deliriously happy in a smokey gray suit with his beaming bride at his side.

Quickly going down through the checklist of digital niceties, you liked each picture in the gallery and let autofill extend your congratulations to the happy couple, tossing in a couple of emoji hearts to really sell the sentiment.  

You opened up your texting app with the intent to send him a more thoughtful and personalized private message, but you couldn't find the right words amidst your frantically tumbling thoughts.  Despite the sincere excitement you truly felt for your friend, the only thing that you could focus on was the hollow feeling in your chest as you suddenly realized that the man sitting next to you on the couch probably wouldn't be the one standing next to you on your wedding day.  

"What do you think of this one?" You asked, passing Shouto a bright teal towel to inspect.

"It's fine," he said, giving the towel a couple of firm pats.

"That's what you've said about all of them!" You huff in irritation, snatching the towel back from his hands and folding it quickly before placing it back onto the shelf.  It wasn't folded as neatly as the employees could do, but it was better than abandoning it in a crumpled up heap for the sales clerk to deal with.   

"And it was true about all of them!  They were all fine!" Shouto growled, ruffling his bangs in frustration when you spun away from him to examine the next display of towels.  "I don't know what you want from me here!"

"I want you to have an opinion about this!  You shower at my apartment all the time, so you should have some say about which towels I purchase."

"But they're your towels!  It shouldn't matter what I think!"

"But you'll be using them!" You groan in exasperation, closing your eyes and taking a few cleansing breaths before you return to comparing the price difference between the traditional towels and bath sheets.  

"If this is going to be an issue then I'll just stop!"

"Stop what, exactly?"

"I don't know," Shouto said, throwing his hands in the air in defeat.  "Showering at your place?  Using your towels?  Staying over as often?"

You stared at him, eyes wide, as his rant ended.  "I see," you whispered, pressing down onto a stack of lopsided towels with hands as shaky as your voice.  "Well.  I- I guess I'll just head home then."

"Yeah," Shouto sighed heavily, reaching out to take your hand.  "Let's get out of here.  We can grab dinner on the way back."

"No," you cried, pulling your hand from his.  "You're not coming with me.  I need some time alone."

"I- what ?" Shouto breathed in disbelief, a sudden bolt of panic spiking through his veins.  "Are you serious?"

"Yeah.  I am.  Just- give me a couple of days, okay?  I need to think."

"About what?"  Shouto croaked, reaching again for your hand as you quickly tugged it out of his reach, grasping onto the strap of your purse as you put distance between the two of you.   

"About us, I guess?"  You said, turning away so Shouto wouldn't see the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.  "Good-bye, Shouto," you whimpered, rushing out of the store as he stood frozen by your abrupt departure.  Once you disappeared from his line of sight entirely he leveled a fierce glare at the towel display next to him.

"This is all your fault," he spat, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stormed out of the store, ignoring the employee's disbelieving stares as he exited.  

The alert came out shortly after midnight- The Hero Commission had tapped him and a number of his sidekicks for an extended overseas mission to Australia.  A series of wildfires had broken out across the country and an unfortunate shift in the wind had things spreading in an unpredictable fashion that was stretching the Australian hero forces too thin to be effective.  They had put out the distress call to surrounding Hero Commissions to send any Heroes with applicable Quirks to help bolster the front lines and divert the blaze away from developed areas.     

The last thing Shouto wanted to do was call you, despite how desperate he was to fix whatever was broken between you.  You asked for space and he wanted to give it to you, even though every part of him was screaming to see you, to hold you, to ask what was wrong- what he did wrong.  He kept replaying your last moments together in that store over and over in his mind’s eye; heart breaking a little more every time you pulled your hand away from his.

He couldn't leave with that being the last time you spoke; having the sharp sting of your ire be the freshest memory of you.  

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Shouto chanted into his phone desperately, his foot bouncing anxiously as he watched the assembled Heroes mill about him; the air thick with everyone's collective unease and mounting anticipation.  

"-'lo?"

Shouto's heart leapt excitedly at the sound of your sleep garbled voice.  It had only been two days since you had last spoken but his constant state of worry had drawn the time out infinitely in front of him.

"Hi," he greeted breathlessly.  "It's me."

"Shou?"

"Yeah," he swallowed, uncertain of what to say next but knowing he needed to continue.  "I'm so sorry about calling you- I know you said you need space and I want to give that to you, really I do!  But I got tapped by the Hero Commission to go abroad-"

"Abroad?  Where?" You asked, the crinkling of your stiff sheets audible as you shifted around in your bed.

"Australia."

"Oh, the wildfires," you mumble, more coherent than before but still struggling to fully wake.  "You're a good pick for that."

"Yeah.  And I just- I didn't want to leave the country without talking to you."

A deep sigh from your end- weary and heavy in a way that makes Shouto's stomach clench in panic.

"You really want to do this?  Right now?  Over the phone?  At-," more shifting and a groan. "Two in the morning?"

"I don't know," Shouto admitted, a slight quake in his voice.  "What are we doing, exactly?"

You're quiet, too quiet.  The silence held an oppressive weight that constricted Shouto's lungs and made him feel light headed.  Spots were prickling along the edges of his vision when you finally spoke again.  

"I…I think we're breaking up," you whispered, the soft words hitting him harder than any fist ever could.

"No," Shouto gasped. "I don't- I don't understand?  Why?  Why do you want to break up?"

"Are you serious right now?" You scoffed, sounding fully awake for the first time since you answered the phone.  "It's obvious that we both want different things out of a relationship.  We should just call it quits now and see if we can salvage our friendship."

"All I've ever wanted is to be with you- from the first moment I met you I knew I needed you in my life," Shouto insisted, tucking himself into a corner to try and carve out a tiny bit of privacy in the cramped locker room; his forehead pressed firmly against the wall in an attempt to ground himself against to torrent of emotions swirling inside of him.   

"I don't know what exactly it is you wanted, Shouto.  But I know it isn't me."

"Why don't you think that I wanted you- that I still want you?  I thought we were happy, that we cared for each other?"

"I do care about you.  I care about you a lot.  Like, a lot, a lot," you sniffed wetly.  "But I can't keep pretending that lo- liking you is enough anymore.  I need more than just the bare minimum of affection."

"How can you say that?" Shouto snapped, ruffling his bangs in frustration. "What about all of our dates?  The talks we've had?  All the nights we've spent together?  Did they really not mean anything to you?"

"They meant everything to me," you sobbed.  "The past year with you has been the happiest time in my life."

"Then why?" Shouto begged, confused and heartbroken and livid in equal measure.  "Why are we breaking up?"

"Because I deserve better !" you cry out, seemingly stunned by the force of your own yell; the line quiet for a moment before you draw a breath to continue.  "I deserve a partner who isn't ashamed to introduce me to their family!  A partner who wants to get to know the people who are important to me!  A partner who- who isn't afraid to share a future with me!"

"I'm not afraid of a future with you," Shouto insisted desperately, his fingers numb from the over-tight grip he had on his phone.  

"Please," you laugh, a broken sort of sound that would be seared into Shouto's memories.  "I couldn't even get you to buy towels with me."

"We can do that when I get back home.  We'll go back to the store and buy towels.  I'll buy you every towel in the store.  We'll have so many towels that you can use them once and then throw them away."

Another laugh, sharper than before; laced with incredulity.  "You just don't get it, Shouto!  This isn't just about the towels! Every time I've tried to mesh our lives together, to create an us you just- throw my efforts back into my face!  And I'm tired of it.  I'm tired of feeling selfish and needy.  I just- I can't do this anymore."

Whatever response was going to pour thoughtlessly from his lips was interrupted by the loudspeaker on the far wall blaring to life, calling all the assembled Heroes to gather their gear and head to the runway.  

"I have to go now," Shouto swallowed thickly, mouth dry and tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, blowing your nose loudly into the mouthpiece while Shouto threw his Go Bag over his shoulder.

"I'll call you when I land."

"It's…probably better if you don't."

"Oh," Shouto muttered as he stepped into the boarding queue. 

"We should use this as an opportunity to make a clean break," you said with false confidence, the beeping of the microwave in the background alerting him that you had relocated to the kitchen. "This'll help us get used to not being together anymore."

"Okay," Shouto agreed miserably, because what else could he do?  He wanted to be with you and you- you didn't want that.  Not anymore, at least. There was no middle ground to find in this situation, no compromise that could be made.  All he could do was acknowledge that he could no longer be with the woman he adored beyond all measure.

Shouto had lost the girl of his dreams because he had done what he'd always done; basked in the heady feeling of victory while blissfully ignoring the reality of the situation at hand. 

His lack of follow through had, once again, been his downfall.  

He fell into his narrow seat along the wall of the fuselage of the carrier plane, the middle filled of the aircraft packed with crates of respirators, air purifiers, and first aid supplies.  Shouto fumbles with the buckles on his five-point harness, his hands shaking despite his best effort to keep them still.

"You okay, there?" Backdraft asks, extracting a novel from the bag at his feet as he settles in for the hop across the Pacific.  

"No," Shouto whispers as he drops his head into his hands, his palms wet and ears ringing as the engines begin to roar to life.  "No, I don't think I am."

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊 #todoroki shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x y/n #shouto x you #todoroki shouto x reader

[coopigeoncoo]

An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 3: Through The Hourglass I Saw You

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Drowning, Somnophilia, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.

This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.

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Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town.  He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.  

And that might actually be a bit of a problem.

---

"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin.  You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.  

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest.  "I- can't breathe!"

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

The harbor grew grimmer by the day as ships disappeared one-by-one, loaded up onto trailers and hauled away into storage for the season.  Some of the men joined their ships in wintering away from the town, setting off in the early morning light to visit far flung families until they had long worn out their welcome and the ice began to thaw.

You were helping out down at the docks that morning, accompanying Gramps who insisted on sticking to his usual routine despite the rasp in his chest that he couldn't quite kick.  You'd stuck around to keep an eye on him, making yourself useful by stacking up the lobster pots and crab cages in a nearby storage building.  The wire cages were hopelessly bent and buckled from years of heavy use, so your stacks were lopsided and wobbly; threatening to topple over if you so much as looked at them wrong.  

"Could be worse, I suppose," the Dockmaster tutted, which was pretty much as close to a glowing recommendation as he was capable of giving.  "Don't forget to grab the pots near the office too."

"The remaining boats won't need them?"

"Nah.  It's starting to get too cold for shellfish.  Most of the crabs and lobsters have already moved out into deeper waters where it's warmer.  It's not worth the trouble for the handful of 'em that haven't had the good sense to leave yet."

"I see," you mutter distractedly, thinking about the lobster you knew for certain was still lingering near the shore and how cold his skin had grown.  

"You need to leave, don't you?" You asked Kirishima the next day as you lay sprawled across his chest and belly, an old quilt wrapped around your upper bodies as you did your best to bring up his core temperature.

"I don't want to," he whispered, pulling you further up his chest so he could nuzzle into your neck as he was oft to do.  "I want to stay with you."

"Eijiro-"

"Please.  Just a few more days.  I'm not ready yet."

"And you will be in a couple of days?"

"No," Eijiro laughs dryly, his upper legs snagging the edge of the quilt and tucking it more firmly around your body.  "But I don't think I'll have much of a choice."

Clad in your wetsuit, the murky ocean water too cold for even a warm-blooded creature like yourself to brave without discomfort, you clung desperately to Eijiro in the fading evening light.  You had spent the entire day wrapped in each other's tight embrace, treasuring every kiss and caress, knowing that these fleeting touches would have to sustain you over the long months you'd spend apart.  

"Promise that you'll come back?" You croak, throat tight with misery.  "That you won't meet some lobster lady and forget all about me?"

"That's enough of that sort of talk," Eijiro scolded, grasping your chin in his icy hand and directing your gaze up to his face; his eyes steely and serious.  "Believe me, Minnow- nobody can ever compare to you."

"I'm sorry," you cry.  "I'm not doubting your sincerity, but it's just so hard and I- I don't know what I'll do without you."

"Can I tell you something?  About when we first met?"

"Okay."

"I…wasn't in a great place that day.  I had been rejected again for mating rights- the same thing that had happened year after year after year.  I thought that I would never get to know what it was like; to be held, wanted, loved," he explained, stopping to press a tender kiss to your furrowed brow.  "And then, all of a sudden, there you were."

"There I was, thinking that a lobster man was drowning and making an absolute fool of myself," you snort, that memory summoning up a feeling of retrospective mortification that sometimes kept you awake at night.  

"No.  There you were, struggling to reach me- to save me.  I might not have actually been in trouble, but no one had ever fought so hard for me before, not once in my entire life.  Can you imagine how I felt then?  When you reached out to me and begged for me to take your hand?  When you promised you wouldn't ever let me go?"

You shook your head, the unforgiving loneliness Kirishima described too strange and foreign for you to truly understand.

"It felt like all of my dreams had come true," he grinned, his pale blue lips stretched wide into a dreamy smile.

"Oh, Eijiro," you sobbed, chest bursting with emotions you struggled to put names to; feelings that existed somewhere in the space between heartbreak and bliss.

"And you know what the most amazing thing was?  You kept fighting for me.  Over and over again, even when the opponent was yourself.  I thought for sure when we thought you were allergic to me that you would realize I wasn't worth the trouble and give up."

"But I didn't."

"No, you didn't," Eijiro whispered, disbelief and awe steeped into his words as he cradled your face adoringly between his chilled hands. "And now it's my turn.  Let me prove to you that I will always return, that I'll fight to be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Forever, then?"

"Forever," Kirishima readily agreed, sealing his oath with a kiss that lasted until you were both left shivering as the final rays of sun were swallowed by the horizon.

You had arranged for Gramps to spend the day with his friends down at the restaurant where they were celebrating the official end of the commercial fishing season.  As much as all the men claimed they wouldn't so much as touch a pole until the Game Warden declared the waters open for fishing next year, you knew you would catch them out on the lake in a few weeks time; sawing through the ice and vying for the best positions to park their fishing huts.  

You had begged off from the celebrations, citing a need for a break from caregiving and catch your breath.  The men organizing the event had understood completely, assuring you that they would keep a close watch on your Grandpa and get him home safely at the end of the night.  

There was an entire list of chores that needed to be done; scrubbing the burnt lasagna sauce from the bottom of the oven, crawling under the porch to shut off the water to the outside spigot before the first frost hit, making sure Gramps had enough meds to make it through the week- mundane things.  Important things.  Things that absolutely needed to get done.  

Instead, you rolled over and pulled your covers over your head, crying yourself quietly back to sleep instead.  

"Hey, Gramps?" You called out from your place at the stove, pushing a spatula half-heartedly through the powdered eggs congealing at the bottom of the pan.  "You gonna' do anything with the box on the table?  It's been sitting there a couple of days and I want to try and get the table cleaned off by dinner."

"What are you talking about?" Your Grandpa huffed, shuffling into the kitchen.  "I didn't get a package."

"Check the table," you encouraged gently, turning away so you wouldn't have to witness the pinch of confusion twisting across his face.    

"Oh, I- I guess I'd forgotten," he stammered, mind reeling for an explanation as he pulled out the packing slip, a shower of foam shipping peanuts spilling out across the tabletop. "Must have thought it was for you or something."

"Of course," you agreed, shutting off the burner and dumping the scrambled eggs into a shallow bowl.  "Here's breakfast if you want it."

"Yeah.  Yeah, thanks," he muttered as he squinted down at the packing list.  "Do you know why I ordered five bags of penis shaped pasta?"

You laughed, a sharp, surprised sound that was wholly inappropriate on such a quiet morning.  

"Can't say that I do.  But if It were me, I'd make some for dinner so the next time someone told me to go eat a bag of dicks I could say 'Oh, yeah?  I already have.'"

"Ha!" Your Grandpa wheezed, slapping his thigh heartily before digging one of the bags of pasta out of the box.  "That's a good one!"

"Don't act so surprised," you sniff haughtily, snagging the pasta from his hand and dropping it onto the counter.  "I am your granddaughter after all."

"That you are," he chuckled, spooning some of the eggs into his mouth while you rooted through the fridge.

"Do we have any hot dogs left?" You ask as you push a margarine container full of leftovers to the side. "I want to chop some up and add them to the pasta so we can really lean into the weenie linguini angle."

The boys from the dock were over today, crammed around the ancient TV in the living room on folding chairs they hauled around from house to house to accommodate their shifting hangout locations so no one person had to bear the burden of hosting every get together.  

You'd thought they would have some sort of preferred sports match to watch, a local football or hockey team perhaps; but apparently the group of them were too competitive to coexist peacefully during play-off season.  After a particular explosive brawl a decade or so ago, where everyone limped away with fat lips and bloody knuckles, they had sworn off sports spectatorship entirely for the sake of community harmony.  These days they spent their weekends tuned into dog shows, speculating on which pooches would place and cheering on their favorite breeds.  

"I don't get how this is any different than you all watching football or something," you huff, slamming a piece of bread down on top of the tuna sandwich you were assembling.  "Those dogs are still competing and you're all still picking sides."

"That's true," your Grandpa's best friend nodded, snagging a bag of pork rinds out of the pantry to carry back out to the living room along with his newly opened beer. "But the difference is that we really don't care which dogs actually win.  They're all good dogs who deserve to come in first, so there are no hard feelings when your favorite doesn't place."

"Can't argue with that logic, I suppose."

"Nope.  And believe me, we've tried!" He chortled, peering around the door frame to sneak a glance at Gramps; perched in his recliner and trying to follow the bouncing conversation with a distant gaze.  

"He's not doing well, is he?" His friend sniffed, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay by coughing into his fist.  

"No, he's not."

"Right.  Okay."

"It's not," you croaked, placing a gentle hand between his quaking shoulders, rubbing soothing circles and allowing him to have a quiet moment of grief while snippets of an argument over the low placement of a group favorite, a sad-faced St. Bernard, floated by.

It was bitterly cold out tonight.  You thought you had bundled up appropriately for the season, but it had quickly become evident the moment you stepped outside that you had missed the mark by a layer or five.  It wasn't enough of a deterrent for you to turn around though.  You needed to get out and fill your lungs with something besides the stale air of your house that was weighed down by the fragrance of your Grandfather's slow demise; thin broths and pain medicine, powdered shampoo and muscle creams.  

Body on auto-pilot, you wandered down to the beach, dropping down onto the frigid sand indelicately.  You stared out at the ocean for a while, lost in the memories of sunny days and Kirishima's sunnier smile.

"You better come back, Eijiro," you whispered, tears stinging sharply as they rolled down your cheeks in the frigid air. "I don't think I can handle losing both of you."

Gramps had passed quietly in the night during the deepest part of winter; when snow fell more often than not and you had to muscle the front door open from the frozen frame every morning.  It had taken the funeral home a long time to get to you with the icy condition of the roads, so you did your best to keep busy and await their arrival.  

You had thought that you could be strong and wait with your Grandpa when the time came, but now that the moment was here you found that you couldn't bear to stay in his room a moment longer than absolutely necessary.  His face was slack and unfamiliar, body empty of the essence that made Gramps uniquely him; the wise-cracking busybody with more jokes than sense.  

Ignoring the smell of cooling excrement that permeated the room, you kissed your Grandfather's forehead, tucked his blankets further up on his shoulders, and left the room.  You frittered time away with any distraction you could find, sifting through piles of junk mail and TV guides, straightening the doilies your Grandma had lovingly tatted and draped across every horizontal surface, and cut out coupons from the Sunday paper.  Each of those tasks stretched out by you anxiously pulling back the front window curtain every few minutes to check for the hearse's arrival.  

After an eternity of chipping ice off the freezer walls, you finally spied the hearse slowly rolling down the street, followed by a beat up sedan you knew belonged to your Grandpa's best friend.  He shot out of the car recklessly fast for someone with a bad hip on an icy sidewalk, but you didn't have it in you to chastise him.  

Not today.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized as you ran a shaking hand down your face in frustration, watching the people from the funeral home unload a gurney and toss a folded up body bag on top. "I should have called- I didn't, I don't-"

"Hush," your Grandpa's friend interrupted gruffly, pulling you into a tight hug that you didn't know you needed.  "You've had enough on your mind this morning.  Have you eaten?"

"I- no.  I went to ask Gramps what he wanted and I just never got around to it," you say, voice muffled by the downy coat your face was pressed into.  "I think I may have left the milk out."

"It's cold enough that I'm sure the milk is fine," he said, pulling back from the hug and pushing you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder while the funeral director and his assistant rolled the gurney towards the front steps.  "How about I meet with these gentlemen while you whip us up something real quick?  I'm not picky, so whatever you make'll be fine."

You were thankful in this moment for the way the entire town danced around emotionally charged situations, welcoming the distraction of preparing a meal over having to deal with well-meaning sympathies and feelings you weren't sure how to start processing.  

"I'll get some coffee going.  Come to the kitchen whenever you're ready."

"Will do."

"This is a good turn out," you cried, dabbing at your eyes with a handful of soggy tissues.

"Your Grandfather was a well liked man."

"I don't even recognize some of the people here," you admitted, squinting to the back row that was clogged with women in spectacularly styled church hats and hand-me-down pearls.

"That's the Ladies Auxiliary for the town up the coast.  They come to all the funerals around here."

"For fun?"

"No," your Grandpa's friend snorted.  "To make sure there's always someone here.  Not everyone is as popular as your Gramps is- was."

"Oh," you sob, overcome by their thoughtfulness.  "That's so nice."

"It is.  They're lovely gals."

Still crying, you peered down into the casket where Gramp's body lay; still and unsmiling for the first time in his life.  The funeral director had seemed a bit confused when you had handed him the bag of garments and accessories you had put together for your Grandfather to be buried in, but you were pleased to see he had executed your vision flawlessly.  

His only suit, a tasteful tweed affair you had seen him squeeze into for every family wedding since you were a kid, was accented by a novelty squirting flower pinned to his lapel and a motorized bow tie that spun wildly under his chin with a cheery whirring noise.  

"You don't think the novelty vampire teeth were too much?" 

"This is exactly what he would have wanted," his friend assures you, reaching into the casket and pushing down onto the rubber chicken stuffed into the crook of your Grandfather's arm; the resulting squawk easily heard over the din of the deep sniffles of a group of men who refused to outright cry and were all collectively experiencing an out of season allergy flare up.  

"Just wait until the eulogies.  I slipped a remote controlled fart machine into his pocket."

The town restaurant was unusually packed during breakfast the next day.  The booths that usually sat empty were all full of members of the Ladies Auxiliary, each woman primly sipping coffee and pointedly ignoring each other's deeply rumpled dresses and day-old makeup.  

"Do you have something you want to say?" The lady at the counter next to you bristled, apparently taking your curious glances as a sign of disapproval.

"Not at all," you rushed to explain, sliding a handful of bills across the counter to pay for your breakfast order.  "I'd be doing something similar if my boyfriend were around."

"Alright then," the woman said, shoulders deflating as the fight seeped from her body.  "My apologies."

"It's fine," you say, waving off her contrition as you contemplate a triangle of toast left untouched on your plate.  "Besides, I'm sure my Gramps would be thrilled that his funeral was directly responsible for his friends having such a memorable evening."

"Goodness!" The woman gasped.  "That was your Grandfather's funeral?  I feel even worse now!"

"It's fine!  Really!  I shouldn't have been staring.  I've just gotten used to the same grungy old men that seeing a group of lovely and well-dressed women caught me off guard."

"They are a bit rough around the edges," the woman agreed with a slight grimace, dabbing at the faded remains of her lipstick with the edge of a napkin.  

"No judgment here, sister.  Any port in a storm, ammirite?" 

She snorts inelegantly, the corner of her mouth quirked in delight as she unclasps the top of her practical clutch and pulls out a slightly wrinkled pamphlet for the Ladies Auxiliary that she slides across the counter towards you.

"Here's the brochure for our branch of the Auxiliary.  You should consider joining.  I think it'll do you good to spend some time away from these old curmudgeons and spend some time in a more…feminine atmosphere."

To perfectly punctuate her sales pitch, one of the men at the back of the diner let loose an astoundingly loud belch that immediately launched all the men into an explosive round of appreciative applause.

"One question: do I get to wear a fancy hat like you do?" You ask, staring at the artfully arranged tower of tulle and feathers piled atop her head.

"Of course.  What's even the point, otherwise?"

"Count me in."

The weeks ticked by slowly as you grew accustomed to living by yourself and figuring out what constituted your new normal.  The activities that had defined your existence at the beginning of your stay, spending time with Eijiro and caring for Gramps, were both suddenly and dramatically stricken from your schedule and you struggled to fill your days because of it.  

Perhaps sensing your ennui, the town council; which was composed entirely of the two brothers who also ran the post office, elected to put you in charge of using the snowblower to clear off the sidewalks on mainstreet and the walkways of anyone who called and asked you for assistance.  It kept you busy most mornings, and you were glad for the distraction.  

The rest of your time was spent getting Gramp's affairs put in order; contacting banks and sending copies of his death certificate to Governmental agencies you'd never heard of before.  When you had a moment to spare you would pick a room in the house and start organizing, carefully packing away bits of family history and discarding numerous shoe boxes stuffed full of faded sales receipts and old batteries.

Gramps friends and neighbors, sadly well-versed in estate cleaning, would often swing by to assist you in lifting heavier objects and driving truck beds full of garbage out to the dump.  You were currently glued to your laptop, scanning in old family photos for posterity and considering how much of a bother it would be to put a digital album together when a hand clapped down firmly onto your shoulder, wrenching a startled yelp out from the depths of your soul.

"Sorry!" Your Grandpa's friend winced, removing his hand from your shoulder and taking a step away from your person.  "Didn't realize I was sneaking up on ya'."

"It's okay," you gasp, heart still hammering in your chest.  "I was pretty distracted."

A picture from your Grandparents' honeymoon had just popped up on the screen.  With little money and even less time to spare, they had spent a weekend driving up and down the coast, stopping and eating at every pancake restaurant they could find.  They'd rated their meals at every location, their food selections identical for the sake of consistency, in a tiny notebook you'd found stashed away in Gramp's desk.  

"Good gracious- look at how young he was."

"I know."

"Such a goofy looking fella'," he noted, pulling out the chair next to you.  "Good thing you take after your Grandma."

"The small mercies of the universe," you agree, loading up a new picture into the scanner.  

He flips through the box of loose photos, pausing every now and then to closely examine a picture of him or the boys around town.

"You don't have to stay, you know," he murmured gruffly as he lifted a delicate sepia tinted photo up by the edges. "You've been helping out a lot this year and while we're grateful for all you've done, we'll get along just fine without you.  We always have."

It was kind of him, to give you an out; to not mention the handfuls of people who had left town this year, either in a body bag or shoved into the dedicated minivan from the local retirement home.  The townsfolk had gotten by in the past because they were numerous and young.  Now they were few and old and struggling to make it through each year.  You leaving would likely be the domino that would send the town toppling into ruin with no one around to push a mower without getting winded or shuffle up onto a roof to repair a leak without vertigo setting in.  

"This life…isn't what I ever imagined for myself," you admit, mind churning with thoughts of Eijiro as you swap out photos in the scanner once more. "But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy here.  I'm just happy in a way I didn't expect."

"You like us old coots that much, eh?" He chuckled, tossing the photo back into the box and turning his attention to a stack of your Grandfather's ledgers.  

"Please," you scoffed.  "I'm only staying because I just sent a check up to the Ladies Auxiliary and I know for a fact that there's no way they'll refund me that membership fee.  Their treasurer is feisty."

As soon as the barometer rose above freezing the town sprung into action, ripping tarps off of boats, changing out oil, and checking coolant levels.  It was still far too cold for leaves and blossoms to emerge, but the return of the ships to harbor did more to lift your spirits than a field of flowers ever could.  Those boats were a true and indelible sign that spring was on its way.  

"What are you smiling about?" One of the dockworkers called down to you from where he was grinding down a rusty patch on the cabin wall with a belt sander.  "If you have time to be happy you must not have enough to do!"

"No, no!  I'm very busy here," you assured him, smearing a large glob of wax across the hull.  "I'm just excited that it's almost lobster season again."

"Again with all the lobster talk?  All winter it's been lobster this and lobster that!"

"Well, can you blame me?  I think I've spent enough of my life without lobster at this point."

"Fair enough!" The worker laughed, a dry bray that sounded enough like a donkey that it always made you smile.  "What are you looking forward to the most?  Steamed lobster? Lobster rolls?"

"I'm looking forward to getting me some of that sweet, sweet lobster tail," you giggled to yourself, kicking on the electric buffer to drown out the sounds of chit-chat and swearing, drifting off in a sea of titillating memories you hoped you'd be able to recreate soon.  

You were refreshing the paint on a red and yellow striped buoy, hands and arms splotched with an entire rainbow of colors from your work, when the Dockmaster approached the section of overturned crates you had turned into your maritime arts and crafts station.

"You're not completely incompetent."

"Thank you, Sir," you said, setting down your brush to rest across the top of a small bucket of paint.  

"Clean up here and come to my office.  I've got something for you."

That something turned out to be a set of keys that you had barely managed to catch by the neon orange key float as the Dockmaster chucked them at your head. 

"Those'r the keys to your new boat.  Congratulations.  Don't fuck up," he grunted, snuffing his cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray.  "Now get out of my office."

You stumbled out of the smoky room, keys clutched in your hands as you slumped down into a sagging lawn chair the Dockmaster kept outside for his smoke breaks on warmer days when the air in his office became too stifling.

"You okay?" One of the passing fishermen asked, hefting a large coil of rope further up his shoulder.  "Dockmaster wasn't too mean to ya', was he?"

"No- he, uh.  He gave me a boat?" 

"Ha!  Did he really?" The fisherman laughed.  "Guess you're really one of us now!"

"But I don't even know how to drive a boat!" You screeched, panic quickly replacing the buzzing numbness that had filled you only moments before.  

"It's not that hard.  Me and the boys will go with you when you take your boat for a spin and show you the ropes."

"That'll be great.  Thanks."

It was, in fact, not great.  

While the fishermen were correct that driving a boat was technically easy, every other aspect of handling a boat fell somewhere along the spectrum between frustrating and absolute madness.  Your docking skills were so abysmal that the fishermen had ended up lashing tires around the entire hull, effectively turning your ship into the maritime version of a bumper car.  

But the absolute worst part of the entire experience turned out to be the name of your vessel.  

"I'm changing the name," you declared boldly once you and your group of tagalong fishermen had matched the numbers on your keychain to the blocky boat ID numbers printed on the forward half of the ship.  

"Oh, come on!" One of the men laughed, doubled over and wheezing for breath at your expense.  "You're the perfect choice to captain 'The Nauti Girl!'" 

Just saying the name outloud was enough to send the men into a cackling uproar once again.  One man with a bushy Santa beard was having a hard enough time regaining his composure that he gave up entirely and laid down on the dock, rolling around on the warped planks as he fought to catch his breath.  

"Nope.  I refuse.  This boat is going to have a nice and respectable name.  Like 'Sea Breeze' or 'Wave Breaker'," you huffed.  "Something I won't be embarrassed to call out over the radio."

"Boooring!" The loudest fisherman protested.  "Besides, it's bad luck to change the name of a ship."

"Of course it is," you mutter disgruntledly.

"Also," the man continued. "If you changed the name then you'd have to get rid of this lovely lady!" He said while gesturing to the cute, pinup style mermaid in a sailor's hat perched next to your boat's sprawling cursive name.  

You cross your arms across your chest, thoughtfully staring at the teal haired mermaid holding an anchor at just the right angle to obscure her nipples and keep things family-friendly.  

"Okay, fine.  But if I can't name the boat I get to name the mermaid," you grumbled, throwing your leg high to make it over the coaming and step down onto the deck; turning back to face the men in the dock when you realized they hadn't followed you onto the boat.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" The man with the Santa beard asked, his cheeks still burning red from his fit of hysterics moments ago.

"Permission granted," you grinned in return.  "I need you gentlemen to show me just what this 'Nauti Girl' is capable of!"

As the greenest fisher at the dock, the men had been gradually easing you into performing more difficult tasks while you grew accustomed to piloting your boat.  So far you had mostly been sent out to return forgotten items or lunches to boats that had disembarked earlier in the day, but just a few days ago the Dockmaster had started sending you out to check on the farthest flung lobster cages to see if the crustaceans were starting to make it back to the coastline.  

The first few had come up empty, so you made a note of their locations and double checked that they were firmly attached to their buoys before chucking them back into the water.  Pulling up on the next end line, you were surprised to feel some resistance.  The other cages had come up relatively easily, so maybe this pot actually had something trapped inside?

Bracing your legs, you tightened your grip onto the rope and gave a mighty tug, drawing the rope up and over the edge of your boat.  Ever so slowly, you drew the sodden rope up from the water, peering over the edge to see what could possibly be weighing down the line so much.  Your questions were answered when, with one final pull and a forceful grunt, the grinning face of Eijiro dramatically rose out of the water.  

"Would you look at that," you laughed, happy tears rolling down your cheeks as you reached down towards your boyfriend. "The first lobster of the season."

"And from the way you tell it, I'm quite the catch," Kirishima winked playfully as he grasped the side of your boat and pulled himself up to be face-to-face with you.  

"I missed you, Eijiro.  So, so much," you cried, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as tightly as you could, which you knew was a fair bit snugger than you could manage the last time you saw him thanks to countless hours of unpaid manual labor.  

"I missed you too, Minnow," Eijiro said, his voice shaky as he nuzzled into your shoulder and deeply inhaled the scent of your skin.  You had envisioned your reunion a thousand times over the last few months, but all of those scenarios paled in the face of the actual experience of being cradled in Eijiro's arms once more.  Even the uncomfortable feeling of the side of the boat digging into your belly couldn't take away from the thrum of utter contentment unfurling in your soul.  

"Nauti Girl, come in Nauti Girl.  Nauti Girl, do you read me? Over." The radio on your boat screamed as it crackled to life.  

"Really?" You groan. "They had to call right now?"

"Wait- why is that man calling you 'Naughty Girl'?" Kirishima asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Ugh!" You huff, pressing a quick to Eijiro's lips as you unwillingly work to free yourself from the tangle of his limbs.  "He isn't calling me that, it's the name of my boat."

"You named your boat Naughty Girl?"

"I would never!  It already came with a name-"

"Nauti Girl?  Pick up!  Over!"

"I'm coming!  Hold your horses!" You yell ineffectually at the radio, knowing that they won't hear you until you hold down the button to answer.  "Just- hold on one second, okay?"

You practically fly across the deck, slamming your hand down on the call button.  "Nauti Girl, here.  Go ahead.  Over."

"There was a small accident and we're short a set of hands to get the last boat launched.  Requesting you return to harbor to assist.  Over."

Hissing in frustration, you send a pleading look to where Eijiro is draped across the coaming, watching you with an utterly dejected look settling across his face.

"You need to go, don't you?" He murmured sadly.  

"I do.  They can't do it without me."

"I understand," Eijiro sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration and sending tiny droplets of water spraying across the deck.  "Sometimes you have to help others at the expense of yourself."

"Yeah," you sighed, pressing the button down once more.  "Roger that.  I'll finish up here and head back ASAP.  Over and out."

You hook the receiver back into place and rush again to Eijiro, cradling his jaw in your hands as you press tender kisses across his face.  He closed his eyes and sighed happily, basking in the glow of your loving attention.  

"I need to head back in.  But let's meet tonight at the cave up shore.  I'll bring some blankets and snacks and we can spend all night together, okay?"

"Okay," he nods with a soft smile, eyes sparking as his hand drifts down to pat at the top of a tightly woven seagrass basket tied around his hips.  "And I'll show you the surprise I brought."

"You got me something?" You gasp in delight, peering further over the edge of the boat to examine the closed lid basket more closely.  

"Technically, I got us something," he laughed nervously, glancing down at the basket with a fond smile.  "I hope you'll love it as much as I do."

The accident back at dock was thankfully minor; someone had gotten their hand smashed between two crates and while they hadn't broken any bones, Doc had them on lockdown in his living room to make sure they were actually keeping their hand iced and elevated.  Doc's concern was well placed because it wasn't unusual for the townsfolk to nod along to his instructions and then conduct themselves as though they were the poster children for medical noncompliance.  

With everyone pitching in you were able to get the last boat launched with no real issues and then spent the remainder of the afternoon anxiously watching the sun dip lower on the horizon as you replaced missing weights on casting nets.  Once it became too difficult to see what your hands were doing in the fading light, the men called it for the day and you had to endure the Herculean task of trying to casually walk home.  You wanted to take off at a sprint to rendezvous with Eijiro as quickly as you could, but knew that running through town would draw unwanted scrutiny from the townsfolk.  Going out onto the ocean alone at night was foolhardy and dangerous, and if you were caught heading out you knew that you would be hauled back in and given a stern talking to about your reckless behavior.  

So you played it cool, stopping to chat to folks heading down to the diner, dropping into the corner store to grab some granola bars and a couple bags of chips, and slowly made your way home the same as you would every night.  But you were off and running as soon as the porch door slammed shut behind you, tearing across the house and throwing things into a large duffle bag as quickly as you could manage before shoving slices of deli meat and handfuls of shredded cheese into your mouth in lieu of an actual meal as you waited for the last bit of daylight to evaporate into inky darkness.  

Once the bright pinpricks of stars were the only lights remaining in the sky you made your escape, sliding outside through the kitchen door that faced the ocean and creeping quietly down to the beach, stopping only to grab your inflatable raft you kept under the back deck.  Slipping on a life vest, you tossed your bag into your raft and waded out into the shallows, jumping aboard and pushing yourself away from the shore with alternating pushes of your paddle against the sandy ocean floor.  

"Just a little longer, Eiji," you whispered quietly into the night.  "I'm on my way."

Kirishima was already at the cave when you arrived, paddling nervously around in circles while singing, the strange clicks layering into a haunting sort of lullaby; like crickets chirping late in the night.  His song cut off as he caught sight of you, darting to you and grabbing a hold of your raft's tow rope and pulling you to the rocky cave shore as he'd done so many times before.

"Decided to leave the Naughty Girl at home, huh?" He teased, patting a hand onto the side of your trusty raft as you hopped out and pulled it further onto the shore to keep the shifting tide from grabbing it while you weren't paying attention.

"What are you talking about?  I'm right here!" You winked back playfully as you unzipped your duffle bag and worked at spreading the large quilt down over the sand.  

"Of course," he laughed, watching with fond eyes as you settled into the middle of the blanket. "My mistake."

"I can probably be persuaded to forgive you," you purred, patting the blanket as you beckoned for Kirishima to come and join you on shore.  His eyes followed the curves of your legs up as he swallowed thickly, hands darting to the basket at his hip.

"Okay, so, before we go any further I have something I need to show you," he confesses, untying the complicated knots that kept the basket lashed around his hips.  "You have to come here.  It doesn't- the basket has to stay in the water for now."

"Alright," you agreed readily, concerned for the abrupt mood shift Eijiro was displaying.  Cautiously, you made your way down to the water and stepped into the shallows, joining your boyfriend in the chest-deep water.

"Before I open this, I want to remind you about how much I love you.  I understand if this is too much and I'm sorry I made such a big decision without you, but I had to do something," Eijiro said, his words rushed and squished together with worry as he carefully pried open the lid of the basket and pushed it into your awaiting arms.

You peer down into the basket, stuffed full of slimy ribbons of kelp and dotted with tiny slivers of fish bones.  Confused, you were about to ask Kirishima about what exactly you were supposed to be looking at when a passing wave shifted a tangle of the kelp and revealed a downy tuft of bright red hair.  Breathlessly, you reached into the basket and brushed aside another clump of seaweed, uncovering the tiny curled up half-lobster baby within.  

"Eijiro," you whisper, trying to keep your voice level so you wouldn't disturb the sleeping child. "Did you steal a baby?"

"What? No!" Kirishima rushes to assure you, his smooth hands sliding to cover yours as you cradle the basket.  "It was a really successful hatching season.  We hadn't had so many hatchlings survive in, well, ever.  And we were struggling to keep them all fed and safe, but it was just too overwhelming."

"This little one was really struggling.  They wouldn't eat on their own and couldn't keep up with their siblings," Eijiro murmured sadly, letting loose a couple of comforting clicks as he ran a gentle finger through their fluttering hair.  "Their mother couldn't give them the attention they needed without her other children suffering, so she culled them from her nest."

"That's awful," you whispered, hand dipping into the basket beside Eijiro's to gently stroke the little one's pale and pudgy cheek.

"It is," he agreed.  "But necessary.  She couldn't risk the health of her other children for just one."

It was quiet for a while as you both peered down at the sleeping child as they shifted, curling their tail  around their head and rolling up into a ball about the size of an orange.  

"They're so small."

"The runt of their pod.  Just like me," Eijiro sniffed, a distant and miserable look in his eyes.  "It could have been me.  If my hatching year had been more successful, it would have been me pushed out and left to die."

"Oh, Eijiro," you sob; angry at the cruelty and unfairness of nature that had hurt the man you loved so deeply.  

"I just couldn't leave them.  Not if I could help."

"Of course you couldn't.  You did the right thing."

"You aren't upset?" Kirishima asked, thin threads of hope threading through the misery woven into his voice. 

"Oh, I am.  But not at you.  And not at them," you said as you ran a finger down the slick, unhardened chitin of their tiny tail.  

"Oh, Spirits be praised," he sighed, shoulders deeply sagging as relief flooded his body.  "I was hoping it would be okay since it was just one.  You told me one baby was normal for humans."

"You could have brought me a hundred babies and it still would have been fine," you assured him, smiling gently when the child sneezed, letting loose a burst of tiny bubbles from their mouth.

"I don't think we could handle a hundred babies," Eijiro chuckled, pulling you into his embrace, the basket sheltered between your entwined bodies. 

"Probably not," you agree, dropping your head down to rest on Eijiro's chest as you gazed down at your new baby in awe.  "But I think we can handle one."

"Yeah," Eijiro sighed happily, tightening his grip around you and the baby; his entire world, his family, cradled safely in his arms. "We can handle one." 

Your life was one of feast and famine.  The time spent with Eijiro and your child filled your heart and soul with so much joy that you often wondered how your body was able to contain it all without bursting at the seams.  Conversely, the long winter months served as a stark lesson in misery and longing as you anxiously awaited the arrival of spring and the migration of your small family back into your life.

To ease the anxious worries of your heart, Eijiro agreed to wear a tracking tag woven into a band on his wrist.  Each night you were bathed in the glow of your laptop screen, lulled to sleep by Eijiro drawing intricate patterns across the screen with his movements; wordless proclamations of love that only you could see.  

Your child, who you had discerned to be a girl once her swimmerets had developed enough to tell one way or the other, eventually appeared next to her father on the map; her bright dot carving out wobbly paths that mirrored Eijiro's smooth trails through the water. 

The townsfolk had noticed the intense depression you fell into during winter and did their best to keep you in good spirits.  The fishermen who taught you how to handle the Nauti Girl met you for dinner three nights a week, The Dockmaster taught you the actual rules to Backgammon and confirmed your long held suspicions that your Grandfather was a dirty rotten cheater, and the ladies at the Auxiliary pooled their money together to buy you one of those sun therapy lamps.  You weren't sure of the lamp's actual efficacy, but looking at it made you feel cared for and loved, so you kept it propped up in the corner of your living room anyway.

The longer you stayed in the dilapidated town you had grown to call home the more heartbreak you were subjected to.  Inevitably, the people you loved and lived with, relaxed and toiled beside, grew measurably older with each passing year until they very suddenly stopped- stopped aging, stopped breathing, stopped living.

The men assured you time and time again over coffee, returning from vacations, on their deathbeds; that they had no regrets.  That their lives were difficult, but wonderful.  The hands blistered and their joints were ground to dust from decades of thankless labor; but their eyes witnessed the boundless beauty that nature had to offer and they had the extreme privilege of knowing true acceptance and affection from their chosen family; their neighbors, brothers, and friends.  

That's what they wished for you to find as well; a devastatingly beautiful life full of misery and ecstasy and everything in-between.  And as you watched two heads of bright red hair breach the surface of the water, speeding towards your boat and a long-awaited reunion, you were fairly sure you already had.

#eijiro x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

A Persistent Lack of Follow Through, Chapter 3: Earn & Return

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

Rating: Mature 18+

Tags: Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst with a Happy Ending, Personal Growth, Drinking, Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Sex, Weddings, Child Abuse, Todoroki Enji's Bad Parenting, Abusive Todorioki Enji, Pining, Shouto is Bad at Feelings, Natural Disasters, Fire, Serious Injuries, Domestic Fluff, Implied Pregnancy

---

Shouto had learned a lot from his Father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge.

But one thing Endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner.

Shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way.

---

He had spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left. Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached:

"I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table.

---

A story where Shouto loves, loses, and learns.

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Shouto was used to receiving calls late at night, it came part and parcel with his job as a Prol Hero.  But he wasn't used to receiving early morning calls from you; who knew about his unpredictable schedule and did your best to preserve the integrity of what little sleep he did get.  

"Hello?" 

"...Shouto?" You stammered into the phone, his name bracketed on both sides by great, heaving sobs.

"What is it?" Shouto breathed, throwing off his covers and throwing on a sweatshirt as he made his way out of his bedroom door.  "What's wrong?  Are you hurt?"

A laugh, wet and broken reaches his ear.  

"I don't- I don't even know how to answer that question."

"Are you bleeding?"

"No," you sniffed. "Physically, I'm fine."

Relief flooded every inch of his body.  "Oh, thank goodness," he breathed, making his way across his living room.  "What has you so upset then?"

"Seiji.  He-," you paused, inhaling a deep shuddering breath. "He called off the wedding."

Shouto paused in the middle of pulling a loafer onto his foot, his brain needing a moment to process your words while the shoe slid from his grasp and bounced across the floor.  

"He what?" Shouto screeched, scrambling across the floor to grab his wayward shoe and jam it onto his foot.  

"I just- I don't know what to even do right now.  I'm so mad and I can't stop crying and the wedding is only two weeks away!  I need to call vendors and cancel and- oh God, I have to call my family- what do I tell them, Shou?"

"Hey, hey, hey," Shouto chanted soothingly, grabbing his keys and shoving his wallet into his darting out his front door.  "It'll be okay.  I'm on my way to you right now.  Go to the kitchen, make yourself a cup of tea, okay?"

"Okay," you whined, a pitiful sound that made Shouto's heart twist unpleasantly in his chest.  

"Just wait for me a little longer," Shouto pleaded.

"I will, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that," Shouto warned as he hung up, picking up his pace until he was running full speed down the sidewalk  towards your apartment.

The first hour after Shouto's arrival was one long stretch of you sobbing into your arms at the dining room table while Shouto plied you into sipping from your tea and taking tiny bites of the sandwich he had prepared for you.  Once you were too dehydrated to cry anymore, Shouto had refreshed your mug of tea and led you to the living room couch; settling on the cushion next to you while you curled up under a blanket.

Half-packed boxes were pushed up against the walls and the shelves that had always been over stuffed with thrift store paperbacks and picture frames were eerily empty and freshly dusted.  It was disorienting, to see your personality slowly draining from a room he had come to associate so strongly with you.  Following his gaze to the moving boxes, you groaned and rubbed a tired hand across your face.

"I let my lease expire.  I was supposed to move in with Seiji when we got back from our honeymoon," you whimpered.  "Now, not only am I single, but I'm on the verge of being homeless too."

"Don't worry," Shouto murmured comfortingly, taking your hand into his.  "You can stay with me while you get this all figured out."

"Shouto, no.  I couldn't ask that of you-"

"Well, it's a good thing you aren't asking then," Shouto sniffed haughtily.  "I'm offering."

"I- okay.  But it'll just be for a little while," you insisted.  "Just until I can find a new place."

"If that's what you want."

"I mean," you laughed wetly. "What I want is for someone to pick me and mean it.  Why am- why am I never enough, Shou?"

"That's not true at all," Shouto insisted, tugging on your hand until you took the hint and shuffled across the cushions towards him; offering up the corner of the blanket that he gladly accepted while you dropped your head onto his shoulder with a piteous whine.  

"He got a job offer all of a sudden, just totally out of the blue," you explained sadly.  "It's a position in a company he'd applied to before.  It's pretty much his dream job, but the pay wasn't high enough to make the increased workload worthwhile."

"But the new offer was higher?"

"Way higher.  And the benefits package was jaw dropping," you rubbed at your face with a tired hand while Shouto kicked the temperature of his left side up a couple degrees.  "I was honestly so excited for Seiji!  It's an amazing opportunity and I'm so happy that people are finally starting to appreciate the quality of his work."

Shifting to pull a crumpled wad of tissues from the pocket of your PJs, you blow your nose gently before continuing.  "But he just accepted the job without talking to me.  We're about to get married- well, we were, anyway.  But he didn't even talk to me about it!  He just assumed that I'd be totally okay with moving away from my friends and family, throwing away my career, and following him!"

A large yawn is pulled from the depths of your exhausted soul as you press closer to Shouto, basking in the comforting heat emanating from him.

"And, I don't know?  Maybe I would have been if he'd talked to me?  Allowed us to make the decision together instead of deciding something this big on his own."

"But he didn't," Shouto commiserated, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to hold you fast to his side.

"No, he didn't.  But what Seiji did do was give me an ultimatum.  I either go with him, or the wedding is off," you whispered miserably.  "I want a partner, not a parent.  I need to have a say in what happens in my life; some sort of agency over my future."

"I understand that feeling very well," Shouto hummed, running a hand soothingly up and down your arm.

"I know ya' do," you murmured, body slumping into his as you slowly drifted off to sleep.  

"I can't say that I understand Takai's priorities, but it must have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him to choose a job over you," Shouto mused quietly.

"I guess?  I dunno.  'm not very good with numbers 'n stuff," you mumbled.  "But Seiji said that Excelsior Investments has a real good reputation.  He talked 'bout 'em a lot."

Shouto's body tensed minutely under your cheek, but you were too far gone to realize the subtle shift in his demeanor.  

"Hello, Mom," Shouto greeted with a smile as he pressed a kiss to her cheek on his way through the front door.  

"Shouto!" Rei laughed in delight, closing the door gently behind him.  "What a lovely surprise!  I wasn't expecting you today!"

"I'm sorry for not calling first.  I'm just making a quick stop on my way home this morning," Shouto explained as he swapped his loafers for the house slippers his mother kept for all her children.  Even Touya had a pair set into the shoe closet, never used but there just the same.  

"You were out?  In your pajamas?" Rei gasped, scandalized by the notion her son had been parading about town in house clothes.  

"It was an emergency situation," Shouto explained with an apologetic wince.  "I promise that I don't routinely go out dressed like this."

"An emergency?" Rei inquired, plodding down the hallway on silent feet, Shouto trailing after her.  "Is everything alright?"

"Not at the moment.  But I'm optimistic for the future," Shouto assured her.  "I'm actually here to ask Father a couple of questions.  Is he in?"

"You know he is," Rei sighed, settling herself down into a large wing back chair, a book splayed over the arm to keep track of her place. "He's such a homebody these days!  I had to join a book club to get a little bit of time away from him each week!" Rei laughed, tapping on the spine of the book before she picked it up again.  

"That sounds like a good thing for both of you," Shouto said in approval.  "How's the book so far?"

"Well, it's a bit more, ah- salacious than what I would normally read," Rei admitted sheepishly, the pale skin of her cheeks burning red.  "But I'm enjoying it more than I thought I would."

"I'm glad," Shouto said sincerely.  "I'll let you get back to it.  I assume Father is in his office?"

"Oh, probably," Rei muttered distractedly as she dove back into her book, her dark blush quickly creeping down her neck as she lost herself in the suggestive prose.  

Chuckling as he exited the parlor, Shouto quickly made his way to his Father's office on the far side of the house.  It was quiet when he arrived, and if it weren't for the warm glow of light shining through the cracks around the door Shouto wouldn't have known his Father was there.  His Father's presence had become more muted as the years passed, a far cry from the thunderous man who had stalked these halls when he was a child.  

Without knocking, Shouto slid the door open and walked into the room.  Enji sat at his massive desk, shoulders hunched in as he carefully fiddled with something, a pair of magnifying glasses perched at the end of his nose.  A tall shelf of completed scale models stood behind him, the tiny vehicles assembled with varying levels of care and attention to detail; a testament to his developing skill base.  Shouto took note of the open box at his Father's elbow, a replica of one of the fighter jets that accompanied Star and Stripe printed on the front, the Heroine's portrait beaming brightly in the corner.  

"Model kits, huh?  You and Mom are picking up hobbies left and right these days," Shouto said in lieu of a greeting, eying the various tools scattered across the desktop.  

"Need some way to pass the time," Enji said, readjusting his hold on what had to be the tiniest pair of pliers Shouto had ever seen in his life.  "May as well be this."

"They probably make larger tools that would be easier for you to use."

"Probably," Enji grunted, struggling to insert a tiny peg into its proper hole.  "But this way teaches me to be patient; gentle."

A tiny click sounds out and Enji leans back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face as he carefully tucks his in-progress aircraft carefully back into its box.  He shoves his magnifying glasses onto the top of his head, the nose piece tangling into his white streaked hair.  Shouto used to worry about growing up to resemble his father, but as the years passed on it was the opposite that proved true.  With a scar marring his face, chunks of graying hair winding through bright red, and his form leaning with age; Enji bore a stronger resemblance to his youngest son than to the pictures of himself that lined his office walls; magazine covers and promotional photos from his prime Hero years.  

"What brings you out to visit dressed so…casually," Enji enquired, rocking back in his chair.

"I got a call from a friend late last night.  She was very distressed," Shouto stated, strolling over to a bookshelf to examine the gold-printed titles on the spines.  "Turns out, her fiancé received a very sudden and generous job offer he couldn't pass up."

"Doesn't sound like a very distressing situation to me," Enji rumbled, using his hand to lazily brush tiny slivers of plastic into a pile in the middle of his workspace.  "Seems like a good opportunity."

"It is.  Maybe too good of an opportunity," Shouto mused.  "And from your private investment company no less."

"And?  You're upset I'm offering competitive salaries these days?"

"No, I'm upset that you're, once again, meddling in my affairs!" Shouto roared, spinning abruptly to face his Father.  

"I did what needed to be done," Enji sniffed, crossing his arms across his chest in an instinctual act of intimidation.  "The situation was fast approaching a point of no return.  It was a last ditch effort to tip the scales in your favor."

"And did it ever occur to you that I wouldn't want you to do that?  That I wouldn't ever trade a single moment of her happiness for mine?"

"Those two things don't have to be mutually exclusive," his Father said pointedly.  

"You've ruined her life!" Shouto bellowed, ruffling a hand through his hair in frustration.  "And when she finds out what you've done she won't want anything to do with me!"

"She doesn't have to find out."

"Are you serious?" Shouto laughed in disbelief.  "You want me to do what, exactly?  Just pretend that my Father didn't lure her fiancé away and torpedo her future in some misguided attempt to play matchmaker?"

"I didn't lure him away.  Honestly, there's no need to be so lurid," Enji grunted in reproach. "I simply made him an offer and he made a choice."

"I saw the offer you made him," Shouto seethed, shoving his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt to help repress the urge to start swinging at his Father's smug face.   "There wasn't much room for any choice in between all those zeros."

"I'm not even sure what you're upset with me about, Shouto," Enji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in mounting frustration.  "You finally have a chance to woo back Deku's secretary-"

"Personal Assistant," Shouto corrected sharply.

"Whatever," Enji waved his hand dismissively.  "And instead of making the most of the opportunity, you show up here to complain about it."  

"I didn't come here to complain, I came here to warn you," Shouto hissed from behind clenched teeth.  "Stay away from me, stay away from her, and mind your own damn business!"

"I've played my hand," Enji said, dropping his glasses back down onto the bridge of his nose and picking up a new runner of model pieces to cut out.  "I'm all out of moves.  If you fuck this up now there's nothing more I can do for you."

"Good.   You've done too much already."

"Is that all the aspersions you have to cast at me today?"  Enji said as he picked up his snippers and contemplated which sprue to cut first. "I really want to try and make good headway on this before lunch."

"As much as I would love to stay and insult you all day, I have more important things to do," Shouto grunted, striding quickly towards the office door, pausing with his fingers on the handle.  

"I never told you about her," Shouto realized suddenly.  "How did you find out?"

"The Australia mission," Enji said, carefully working on cutting out the next wing piece.  "You had pictures of her all over your desk.  I recognized her as Deku's Sec- Assistant and put two and two together."

"You know, normal parents ask their children about their lives instead of poking their nose around where it doesn't belong," Shouto informed his Father dryly as he finally pushed the door open.  

"Would you have told me if I asked?"

"No," Shouto admitted readily.  "I wouldn't have."

"Well, there you have it," Enji said.  "Tell your Mother I'll be late to lunch.  I'm a bit behind in my work here."

"Fine," Shouto groused as he stormed away, leaving his Father’s office door open behind him.  

"Ungrateful brat," Enji muttered, eyes darting to the framed picture of Rei occupying the corner of his desk.  Hands stilling, he sets his clippers down with a thoughtful hum, examining his wife's gentle smile before pulling off his glasses and raising his arms in a joint-popping stretch.  

"Nothing here that can't wait, I suppose," he mumbled to himself, walking towards his open office door.  "I wonder what's for lunch."

Moving you out had been a fairly straightforward affair.  Minus your bed, the rest of the furniture had conveyed with the apartment and just needed a quick once-over with a hand vacuum before it was in good enough shape to not impact your security deposit.  Deciding you wanted to avoid the hassle of renting a storage unit just for your mattress, you had posted it in a local internet sale group for next to nothing and had it hauled away the next day by an incredibly thankful college student and the friends he had bribed into helping him with the promise of pizza and beer.  

The rest of your things were carefully boxed up and labeled before being picked up by a small transportation company that promised to have them delivered to Shouto's apartment by the end of the day.  Which left you both sprawled out on his living room floor, surrounded by take out containers and waiting for their arrival.

Shouto stabbed morosely at his beef & broccoli, a lone florette reduced to mush under the unrelenting onslaught from his fork while you looked on in concern.

"Everything okay, Shouto?  Are you having second thoughts about me being here?"

"What- no!" Shouto rushed to assure you, head whipping back and forth at the force of his shake.  "I'm happy to have you here.  Trust me, it isn't that."

"Then what is it?" You pry gently, knocking your shoulder into his in a show of support.   

"Do you- do you remember when you first told me about Takai's job offer and the wedding being canceled?"

"Oh, you mean the worst day of my life?  I might remember a thing or two." You reminisced flatly, nibbling half-heartedly some sort of noodle dish.

"One of the things you mentioned was the name of the company Takai went to work for, Excelsior Investments?  Well, it turns out that's…my Father's investment company."

"Oh," you mumble numbly. "That's uh, well.  Huh."

"I'm so sorry. I just-"

"Did you ask him to do it?" You asked quietly, pushing a water chestnut to the side of your take out container. 

"Of course not!" Shouto assured you.  "If I'd have known what he was planning I would have said or done something, but I didn't- I didn't know."

"Then you have nothing to be sorry for," you assured him firmly, peeling open a container of fried rice.  

"He's my Father.  I feel like there's some level of familial accountability to be had here."

"Please," you snort inelegantly.  "Your Father has a long, documented history of assholish buffoonery.  You can't possibly shoulder all the blame for his wrong doings."

"I know that," Shouto sighed in frustration. "I just feel really awful about this particular misdeed."

"Because it's me?" 

"Because it's you," he nodded in agreement.  

Humming thoughtfully, you crush a fortune cookie inside the wrapper, pulling open the plastic and extracting the paper strip from amongst the broken cookie shards. Clearing your throat, you held the paper up in front of your face.

"You aren't responsible for other people's actions, only your own," you said seriously, nodding sagely to the fortune in your hand. "Wise words."  

"Wait," Shouto drawled, eyes narrowing in suspicion.  "Let me see that fortune."

"No need for that!" You laughed, tucking the paper close to your chest.  "Just let the wisdom of the cookie flow over you."

"You know what flows better than wisdom? The truth."

"Ugh, fine," you grumbled, crumpling the fortune up and tossing it at Shouto.  He snags it out of the air and makes a show out of smoothing out the creases before he starts to read.

"'A close friend will soon reveal a hidden talent'," Shouto recited before wrinkling his nose in distaste.  "Yours was better."

"I know," you replied haughtily, popping one of the cookie shards into your mouth.  "You should have just let me have that one."

"Yet another thing to be sorry for I suppose," Shouto sighed, adding the fortune to the pile of used napkins and trash accumulating on his coffee table.

"No!  We just went over this!  You can't blame yourself for what happened," you whined, turning to face him head on.  "Your Father isn't even really to blame for this either."

"What?" Shouto croaked in surprise, nearly choking on a mouthful of rice.  

"I mean, don't get me wrong; Endeavor is a very easy and very tempting scapegoat," you sighed deeply, shoulders heaving from the force of it. "But ultimately, all he did was offer a really good job to my fiancé- my ex-fiancé, " you corrected with a sad shake of your head. 

"Seiji is the one who decided that only his opinion mattered; that he alone got to decide the course of our shared life together.  That what I wanted didn't matter," you explained, voice warbling as you attempted to hold in another wave of frustrated tears. "That ultimately, I didn't matter."

"Come here," Shouto whispered, opening his arms in an invitation for you to climb into his embrace.  Quickly taking him up on his offer, you buried your face into the crook of his neck just in time for the torrent of tears you were repressing to break free and soak into his shoulder.  His warm hand ran in soothing circles across your back while Shouto quietly cooed comforting noises into your ear.  

"Would you look at that?" He said as he reached for the fortune he discarded earlier, clearing his throat in a dramatic way.

"This one says 'You are the most important person in the world and matter more than anyone.' "

"It does not say that," you laughed, snorting through your tears.

"Shhh," Shouto hushed. "Just let the wisdom of the cookie flow over you."

Shouto had never been particularly fond of his apartment.  Admittedly, the view it offered was lovely and his landlord was always very responsive and quick to solve any issues that arose, but he had never been able to recreate the comfortable feeling his dorm back at Heights Alliance possessed.  Fuyumi had gifted him a couple of throw pillows for his couch when he had first moved in that added a nice splash of color to his living area, but did little to give his apartment the welcoming atmosphere he craved.  

But after just a couple months of cohabitation with you, his apartment felt more like home to him than ever before.  Initially you had been incredibly careful to keep all of your possessions within the confines of the guest room Shouto had offered up to you, but after a week or two of stumbling over the numerous moving boxes you had scattered across the floor you reluctantly agreed to utilize the storage opportunities the other rooms provided.    

Your movies were piled up next to the TV in the living room, books filling the empty shelves in his office, and picture frames tucked into every corner and crevice you could find.  Shouto's favorite additions were the ever shifting signs of life you left behind; a sweater abandoned over the back of the couch, a recently washed bowl drying in the rack next to the sink, the lingering fragrance of unfamiliar toiletries when he stepped into the shower.  It made him feel less lonely, knowing that someone else was nearby.  

And the knowledge that it was you , specifically, who was so close at hand?  That brought back a feeling of elation Shouto never thought he'd get to experience again; the same feeling he'd get when you'd pull him by the hand across the threshold of your old apartment, giggling and fluttering your eyelashes coyly.  It was an inexplicably heady mix of excitement and tranquility that set his heart hammering as he drew closer to his apartment door every evening.

"I'm home!" Shouto called as stepped into the apartment, tossing his keys into their assigned bowl.

"Welcome back, Shou!" You called back, greeting accompanied by the sounds of scraping utensils and something heartily bubbling on the stove.  

"I'm home," he repeated quietly to himself, heart soaring at the sound of you puttering around in the kitchen.  Shouto gazed out fondly across the living, appreciating all the homey touches you had added today.  Your purse had been dropped to the floor, laying sideways in a heap with a tube of lip balm peeking out from the side pocket.  A chunky blanket was sloppily folded and draped over the arm of the couch; the TV on but muted with subtitles scrolling lazily at the bottom of the screen.

"I'm really home."

"Di' I ever tell you sorry?" Shouto slurred, a crystal whiskey glass empty in his hand.

"You say sorry for lotsa stuff," you giggled from your resting spot across Shouto's legs.  "You apologized to a fork fer dropping it las' week."

"I'm serious!" Shouto insisted, lifting his legs up so you rolled down them like a ramp towards him, arms flailing wildly. 

"Woah!" You called out unsteadily, using his shoulders to pull yourself up into his lap while the room spun, bracing your knees on either side of his hips.  You held a shaking hand across your mouth, swallowing forcefully with wide eyes.  "I'm gonna' throw up if you do tha' again."

"Focus!" Shouto scolded, bopping your forehead playfully as you settled down onto his lap.  "I wanna 'pologize for all the stuff I did when we were datin'."

"Shouto. Shouto, Shouto, Shouto," you chanted sweetly as you held his face in between your hands.  "You've already said sorry a million times fer all tha', all tha' stuff."

"I…I don' remember ever sayin' it," Shouto muttered, his forehead crinkled in deep retrospection.

"Not with- not always with words, " you explain, running a single finger across the seam of his mouth, giggling when his lower lip caught on the pad of your finger and pulled the lip down into a pout.  "But you've said sorry over and over 'gain with your actions."

"Yeah?" He breathed, hips shifting under yours.

"Uh-huh," you agreed, rocking into him in response; earning a prolonged moan for your efforts.  "You're always so kind to me; so caring, so- ah! " You gasp as the friction between you shifts just so and sends a sudden crackle of pleasure shooting up your spine.  Shouto's hands rise up to firmly grip your hips, holding you in place as he grinds against you.  His pace is agonizingly slow as he drags you down his full length from root to tip.

"I miss- I miss us," Shouto gasped raggedly, peppering kisses across your collarbone.

"I miss us too, Shou," you whined, fingers grasping desperately at the back of his shirt as you rolled your hips in tiny circles, the only movement allowed by the vice-like grip he had on your waist.  "But I'm scared.  What if- what if 's just like b'fore?"

"It won't be," Shouto promised, his tongue lapping at a bead of sweat welling up in the dip of your clavicle.  "Jus' give me a chance to prove it to you.  Please."

Your hips stilled as you considered his plea, Shouto gently rocking against you as he waited for your response with bated breath.

"Okay," you responded carefully.  "But you've gotta' let me up."

"Right," Shouto agreed, releasing your hips instantly.  "We're movin' too fast."

"No, I'm just gonna' throw up," you groan as you frantically scramble off of his lap and dash for the bathroom, the sound of intermittent retching easily heard in the living room.

"You okay?" Shouto called, stumbling onto all fours as he attempted to stand.  

"Ugh, not yet," you yell miserably into the toilet, voice echoing against the sides of the porcelain bowl.  

"I'll get you some water!" Shouto said, crawling along the floor to the kitchen, accidentally looping the ottoman twice before getting his bearings.  

"We shoul- should probab'ly call it a night after this," you sighed as you took a sip from the half empty cup Shouto had delivered to you on shaky legs, the rest of the water having been spilled across the floor during his journey from the kitchen. 

"Tha's a good idea," Shouto swallowed uneasily, sliding down the wall and sinking into a heap on the bath mat next to you as the room started spinning.  "But just so you know, 'm gonna' kiss you first thing tomorrow.  So make sure you brush your teeth real good once yer done throwin' up, okay?"

You shot him a quick thumbs up, head once again shoved into the toilet bowl as another round of dry heaves rolled through you; the last thing Shouto saw before he blacked out.  

"Oh my goodness!" A soft voice called out from behind you in the foyer of the tearoom, Shouto's eyes widening as he quickly spun around.

"Mom!" He laughed, pulling Rei forward into a hug while the gaggle of women behind them joined together in a collective 'awww' at the display.  

"You all go ahead without me," Rei giggled, motioning the group of women to pass by her.  "I'm going to catch up with my son for a moment or two."

"Alright, but don't take too long," a woman with star shaped freckles dotting her skin called back.  "We might start discussing chapter twenty-six without you!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Rei gasped in mock affront, pulling away from her son to waggle a finger at the star-speckled woman.  

"We don't want to keep you from your meeting, Mom.  I can just call you later tonight to catch up."

"'We'?" Rei blinked inquisitively, stepping back far enough to finally catch sight of you over Shouto's shoulder.  "You're here together?"

"Hello," you waved at her hesitantly.  "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Todoroki.  I'm Deku's Assistant-"

"And my girlfriend," Shouto interrupted, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side with a bright smile that made your heart skip enough beats you were worried it might actually be an arrhythmia.   

"Er , yeah," you mumbled sheepishly.  "That too."

"It's so nice to finally meet you!" Rei gushed sincerely.  "Shouto has told me so much about you, it's good to be able to put a face to the name."

Sensing your rising discomfort at being the sole focus of his Mother's attention, Shouto points to the book poking out of Rei's handbag.

"Is that the book you're all reading this month?" He inquired, squeezing your hip gently to remind you to breathe.  

"It is," Rei nodded enthusiastically, lifting the book up for her son to examine.  "We're nearly finished and on pace to start the sequel novel next week."

"Oh," you squeaked in surprise at the title, eyes widening.  "That's a…bold choice for a book club."

"Have you read it?" Rei asked, sliding the book back into her bag with an excited grin.

"I…have," you nodded uneasily, a smile pulled tightly across your face.

"Wonderful!  We can meet up for lunch soon and discuss it.  How does that sound?"

"Great," you squeaked, pained smile widening as your skin took on a sickly pallor.

"Shouto will send me your contact details, won't you, Dear?"

"Of course," Shouto nodded in assent, noting the distressed glaze shining in your eyes.

"Have a nice meal you two," Rei said with a parting wave.  "And expect a text from me later tonight- both of you!" 

Shouto remained waving until his Mother was out of sight, sequestered into a side room with the rest of her book club before he took your face in his hands, staring down at you in sharply mounting concern.

"You look ill.  Are you feeling alright?"

"I just agreed to go out for lunch with your Mother and casually discuss erotica ," you whimpered, sweat beading across your forehead. "I might never be okay again!"

"Am I right in assuming that congratulations are in order?" Takai inquired, sliding into the space next to Shouto you had just vacated in order to track down the waiter carrying around the tray full of mini quiches.

"You'd be correct," Shouto nodded stiffly, watching as you excitedly flagged down a member of the waitstaff only to wilt in disappointment when she only had finger sandwiches to offer.  

"I figured as much," Takai sighed deeply, seeming to shrink at least two feet as his shoulders sagged.  "Her ring is exquisite.  I'm pretty sure it can be seen from space when the sun hits it."

"My Mom and Sister got a bit carried away when we went ring shopping," Shouto coughed into his fist, abashed.  "She picked out her wedding band though.  It's a more…practical design."

"She has good taste, so I'm sure it's lovely."

Shouto hummed in agreement, smiling as you attempted to convince the correct waiter into relinquishing the entire tray of quiches into your care.

"How's the new job treating you?" 

"It's…alright most days.  Your Father is a difficult man to work for," Takai chuckled, tapping the stem of his champagne glass mindlessly.  

"My Father is a difficult man, period," Shouto snorted.

"The work itself is good though, challenging and rewarding."

"Was it worth it?" Shouto asked, a fond smile curling at his lips as you pumped your fist victoriously as the waiter passed his fully stocked tray of canapés into your arms.  

"Not in the slightest," Takai admitted with a sigh. "Not a day goes by that I don't regret my choice."

"I can sympathize."

"You're the only one who really can, I think," Takai acknowledged, doubling over to deposit his empty glass on the table beside him.  "It's funny, really.  I'm so good with numbers it didn't even occur to me that I was making a terrible miscalculation until it was too late."

"That's just how it goes sometimes, I think.  We need to be brought low to give ourselves room to grow."

"Hmm, perhaps," Takai pondered. "But I think I've grown quite enough for two lifetimes, thank you very much.  I've had to duck through doorways since I was five."

"Do you want to see her?  It looks like she's finishing up her victory lap and making her way back," Shouto said, motioning across the room to where you were weaving carefully between dancing couples, tray balanced across your forearms and an intense look of concentration on your face.  

"I don't-," Takai swallowed, watching you with fond eyes. "I don't know what I would even say .  I need more time, I think."

"There's always next year's Christmas Party," Shouto offered magnanimously.  

Takai grunted in acknowledgement, tucking his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys nervously.  

"I suppose this is my cue to leave.  Take care of her."

"I intend to," Shouto swore solemnly.  "See you next year."

Takai slipped out just as quietly as he arrived, disappearing down the main entrance hall mere moments before you arrived, pilfered tray in hand.  

"Jackpot!" You laughed, holding up the tray for Shouto to examine.  

"A successful hunt, I see," he laughed, picking up a bacon and mushroom quiche, popping it into his mouth with an appreciative moan.  "How're these so good?"

"We can have these at the wedding, right?  Eight courses and all of them are quiche."

"A sound plan," Shouto nodded.  "But we need to taste each and every quiche on this tray to be certain."

"For the sake of quality control," you agreed readily, shoving two of the tiny bites into your mouth, humming happily as you chewed.  

"How about we get out of here and head up to our room?" Shouto whispered into your ear.  "Just you, me, and a tray of stolen cheese pies?

"That's the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me," you gasped, eyes sparkling in delight. "I'm so happy I'm marrying you."

"Sweetheart?" Shouto called, staring at the calendar app in his phone with a furrowed brow.  "Why does the calendar say 'Wedding Dress Shopping' next Saturday?"

"Because I'm going wedding dress shopping next Saturday," you explained simply, hefting a large watering can up into the kitchen sink.

"But you already have a wedding dress?  I remember seeing you in it before I almost died."

"You didn't almost die!" 

"Pretty sure I was dying.  There was a bright light-"

"That was the emergency lights."

"-and an ethereal figure in white-"

"That was me, Shou!"

"-and then everything went dark-"

"You passed out!"

"-so from my point of view it looked pretty grim for a minute there," Shouto explained.  "But I digress; you already have a wedding dress."

"Okay, yes.  I have a wedding dress," you capitulate, turning off the faucet as the can finishes filling.  "But it's a dress that I picked out to marry another man in.  It's probably bad luck to use it for our wedding."

Shouto's arms suddenly appeared on either side of you, bracketing you up against the counter.  With nowhere else to go, you spun around slowly to face him, surprised by the serious expression on his face.

"Shouto?  What's wrong?"

"I have imagined marrying you a thousand times in my head," he uttered sincerely, arms sliding slowly off the counter to encircle your waist and pull you firmly against his chest.  "Big weddings, small weddings, weddings in a church, weddings on a beach, and even one very eventful wedding on a capsizing boat- I've imagined them all.  But do you know the one thing all those scenarios had in common?"

You shook your head, mesmerized by the intensity of your fiancé's stare.

"You, walking towards me, in that dress," Shouto whispered fiercely, dropping his forehead down onto yours with a gentle thunk. "I never thought that I would get to be here. I went to sleep every night dreading the coming morning because it meant that I would be one day closer to watching you marrying someone else.  Our wedding will, quite literally, be the moment when my wildest dream comes true."  

"Oh, Shouto," you whisper, throat tight from your welling emotions.  

"You can pick every other detail of this wedding and I won't say a word.  The music, the catering, the flowers; all yours.  You can even make it Dynamight themed for all I care!  Just please, please, wear that dress," he pleaded, pulling your hands up to his mouth, softly kissing each of your knuckles as he awaited your response.  

There was only one possible answer you could give to a request like that.  

"Okay."

The guests had been seated, the officiant had shuffled in, and your bridesmaids had been escorted down the aisle to the bright and joyous calls of violins, each of your attendants walking stiffly with a dazed look on their face as they clutched at the arm of one of his Pro Hero groomsmen.  The poor woman assigned to Kirishima seemed to be having an especially difficult time, her face beet red and eyes glassy as Eijiro continually flexed his arm under her vice-like grip.  

The only thing missing was you.

The thrum of excitement that pounded through his veins when the music from the string quartet shifted to your processional song was likely the most intense feeling Shouto had ever experienced.  The guests all shifted in their seats, seemingly just as anxious as he was to get their first glance of the bride. The cello crooned out a note, deep and rich, and the violins and viola rushed to join; a joyous explosion of song that called out for you to join them.  

One breathless moment later, you did.  

If Shouto thought you were beautiful the first time he saw you in your wedding dress, it was nothing compared to the vision you presented today.  Coiffed and styled to perfection, and very notably not covered in his blood and disaster debris, you were a vision more exquisite than anything his imagination had conjured up during those impossibly long years without you.  

And then you smiled at him; a brilliant and rapturous grin that burned itself into Shouto's very being; a brand upon his heart that already beat solely for you.  Whenever he closed his eyes and thought of you, it would be this moment his brain would conjure up forever more.  

"You doing all right?" Izuku whispered into his ear.  

"Never better," Shouto sighed dreamily, a look of pure adoration on his face as he watched you take your first steps down the aisle towards him and your future together as husband and wife.  

"So," you smiled, leaning forward to press your lips to the underside of your husband's jaw as the crew of wedding photographers spread out around you, the flashes from their cameras causing the crystal chandelier above you to twinkle majestically.  "How did reality compare to your dreams, Dear Husband?"

"Nothing could possibly compare to this," Shouto rumbled, arms winding around your waist as he pulled you in for a proper kiss.

"Nothing?" You mumbled against his lips, nuzzling your nose against his playfully.  "I find it hard to believe that with all the time you spent imagining me in my wedding dress you never once imagined getting out of it."

"Oh," Shouto gasped, his shock quickly melting away as a devious grin overtook his face.  "That does open up a few new possibilities."

"It certainly does," you agreed with a pleased hum.  "And I can't wait to explore them all with you, but I didn't spend seven hours getting ready just to bail early and miss out on cake.  So look sharp!" You commanded, patting his cheek fondly and adjusting the position of your shoulder at the lead photographer's behest.  

"Of course, Love," Shouto agreed, his hand sliding seamlessly from your hip to derriere and giving a firm squeeze; the camera shutters snapping and immortalizing your wide-eyed gasp of surprise and Shouto's devilish grin.  

You couldn't help but chuckle at your husband's enthusiasm; Shouto bouncing on his heels as he waited for the volunteers to return. 

"It's been a long time," he muttered anxiously, wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his pants.  "Do you think he'll recognize me?"

"I don't know," you replied honestly, phone out and your camera app ready to start recording.  "You're a pretty unforgettable guy, but have no clue what the long-term memory capabilities of a koala are."

"Right," Shouto sighed, taking a deep breath and settling back down onto flat feet.  "I need to relax and keep my expectations low."

"Are you guys ready?" a volunteer cried from behind the door.

"YES!" Shouto cried out, throwing his arms up in whooping in excitement.

"So much for keeping calm," you laugh, hitting the record button on your phone as the door swung open and Kodoroki was carried into view, the Koala screeching excitedly when he noticed Shouto.

"Shouto!" You squealed in awe, hand flying to your mouth as your eyes began watering.  "They dressed him up for you!"

The volunteer passed Kodoroki off to your husband, taking a moment to straighten the bow tie and tiny top hat that sat between the Koala's massive ears.  

"And that's not all!  We have a surprise for you too, Mrs. Todoroki!" The volunteer announced, motioning to someone in the hallway.  Another koala was carried into view, a sparkling white tutu tied around her middle and flower crown looped over one ear.  You fumbled your phone into the awaiting hands of one of the workers surrounding you, excitedly reaching towards the koala making its way towards you.  

"Oh my goodness," you gasp as the gray koala is deposited into your arms.  "She's so cute!"

"Alright, squeeze together so we can get both of the happy couples in frame!" The lead caretaker called, waving their hand to indicate that you and Shouto should shuffle closer to each other.  

"I love you more than I can ever describe and our wedding was absolutely perfect," you told your husband in a single rushing breath, staring down at the koala in your arms with shining eyes. "But I think this might be the best part of getting married by far."

"Yeah," Shouto agreed as he smiled fondly down at Kodoroki, running his index finger across the brim of his top tiny hat as the Koala grunted.  Despite how happy he was to be reunited with his friend, Shouto couldn’t help but cast lingering glances over to you.  His heart warmed as he watched you sway soothingly with your koala perched on your hip; the hazy outlines of a new dream for your future taking root in his mind.  

The only thing that ever managed to surpass that honeymoon visit to the wildlife center was when you received a package from them years later, a tiny plush Koala tucked inside layers of pale green tissue paper.  You immediately placed the small toy in its rightful place; nestled between a wedding edition Kodoroki doll and his plush bride on the highest shelf overlooking the nursery.

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #pigeoncoos🕊 #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x you #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x y/n #shouto x you #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader

[coopigeoncoo]

A Persistent Lack of Follow Through, Chapter 2: Salvage & Repair

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

Rating: Mature 18+

Tags: Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst with a Happy Ending, Personal Growth, Drinking, Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Sex, Weddings, Child Abuse, Todoroki Enji's Bad Parenting, Abusive Todorioki Enji, Pining, Shouto is Bad at Feelings, Natural Disasters, Fire, Serious Injuries, Domestic Fluff, Implied Pregnancy

---

Shouto had learned a lot from his Father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge.

But one thing Endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner.

Shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way.

---

He had spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left. Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached:

"I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table.

---

A story where Shouto loves, loses, and learns.

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Shouto's deployment lasted far longer than he would have liked.  They had managed to suppress the blazes in under a week.  Heroes with fire based Quirks set about burning long stretches of untouched vegetation to create firebreaks while ice and water elemental Quirks worked on suppressing and extinguishing blazes that tried to jump the firewalls.  

It was exhausting work, but the hard labor and long hours kept him from thinking about his newly single status during the day and ensured that he was too tired to dream after he fell into his cot at night.  They had been packing up, ready to return to Japan when the call from his PR team came in.  

Animal rescue workers had found a juvenile Koala injured in the blaze, the skin around its left eye seared by a falling branch while it tried to escape to safety. They wanted him to come in and do a photoshoot to raise funds for the wildfire relief fund, the two of them a matching reminder about the lasting damage fire leaves behind.  

The original run of promotional materials were wildly successful and Shouto found his return flight pushed back again and again; a never-ending cycle of talk show spots and community appearances with Kodoroki (which had been the winning name in an online poll by a landslide).  As much as Shouto disliked being in the center ring of the media circus, the worst part of the entire ordeal was having to call his Father every few days to inform him of his further delays.  Endeavour had agreed to watch over Shouto's agency in his absence, and while he was long retired and unable to do any of the field work, his Father was a competent executive and everything was always in good working order upon his return.  

The first photoshoot with Kodoroki had been an awkward affair, neither Shouto nor the koala quite sure what to make of each other.  But as the weeks dragged on they had become more comfortable and Shouto found himself looking forward to being reunited with his little burned buddy each morning; greeting the young koala with a smile and eagerly awaiting the moment when his handlers would pass him into Shouto's awaiting arms.  

"Morning, Kodoroki," Shouto smiled, taking the joey into his arms while the photography team circled around him went wild.  "This is going to be our last day together, so let's make it a good one, okay?"

Kodoroki yipped in response, his claws wrapping around the belts slung around his shoulders as he clung to Shotou’s chest.  Having grown up without pets, Shouto had never understood why so many people were drawn to animals.  But after spending so much time with Kodoroki and experiencing the warm comfort an animal could provide he thought that maybe he was starting to understand the appeal a little.  His heart always felt a little bit lighter when Kodoroki was in his arms.  

"Maybe I should think about getting a pet when I get home," Shouto mused, shifting his grip on Kodoroki in between photos with the group of waiting politicians hovering around the corner of the room.

"Not a koala though.  You're kind of stinky," Shouto crinkled his nose while tapping Kodoroki's forehead.  "Also, I'm fairly sure keeping you would be illegal."

Unimpressed, Kodoroki grunted indignantly before releasing a particularly ripe fart that left the Senator next to him gagging.

"See? This is what I'm talking about, Kodoroki," Shouto coughed, fanning the air in front of his face while one of the handlers cracked a window open.  "You're not meant for polite society."

Shouto had been so used to coming up with reasons to visit Deku's agency to see you that it was strange to shift out of that mindset.  Sidekicks were sent to retrieve paperwork, meetings were attended via video call, and everything else was shoved into emails routed directly to Deku's personal devices.

But having to visit the Number One Hero's agency was inevitable in their line of work.  So with his shoulders set in false confidence, Shouto forced a neutral expression onto his face and set out towards Deku's office.  He had practiced this greeting in his head a thousand times; what he'd say, how you'd respond, wondering if you'd be happy to see him.  Or mad.  Or sad, like he was.  

He felt like he had prepared for every eventuality except the one he was confronted with: someone who wasn't you.

"Ah, hello?" He greeted the stranger, a bleary eyed man who looked like he hadn't had a good night's rest since the day he was born. Energy bar wrappers were scattered across the surface of your- his , desk and the small wastebasket beside him was overflowing with crushed coffee cans.  

"Hello, Hero Shouto," the man yawned, covering his open mouth with his hand and bobbing his head in Shouto's direction. "Deku is expecting you.  You can go ahead and enter.  After knocking, obviously.  Everyone should knock," the man whispered, his eyes dipping shut as he slumped down in his chair.  "Knock…knock…"

"Of course," Shouto agreed softly, lightly rapping on Deku's door before slipping inside.  

"Shouto!" Izuku cheered, lunging out of his chair to throw his arms around his friend in a crushing hug.  "It's been too long!  It's so good to see you!"

"It has been," Shouto agreed, patting his friend's back stiffly, always unsure about what to do with his hands in situations like this.  

"So," Izuku began awkwardly, pulling back from the too-long embrace with a pained grimace on his face.  "How're you holding up?  Since, well… you know."

"Not great, honestly," Shouto sighed, picking at a loose thread at the cuff of his uniform.  "It's been hard without her.  Really hard.  I didn't realize just how much of my life revolved around her until it suddenly didn't."

His eyes watered, despite his best effort to hold things together.  "I really miss her.  And as nervous as I was to come here, I was also looking forward to seeing her- making sure she was alright."

"I'm sorry," Izuku sighed, running a hand through his hopelessly tousled hair.  "She asked for a temporary transfer to another department while things…settle down between you guys.  She didn't want to make it harder for you, having to see her all the time."

Shouto was roughly struck by how much he both loved and hated your thoughtfulness at this moment in time.  

"Takai down in Accounting agreed to take her on for a while and sent up his guy to replace her," Izuku explained, eyeing the door to his office worryingly, the distant sound of sobbing filtering in through the cracks.  "I'm…not sure he's adjusting well to the switch.  It's a bit more stressful than he's used to, I think."

His friends had assured him that the pain he was feeling would fade with time, that he needed to be patient and eventually he'd begin to heal. 

So, he waited.

He waited to stop anticipating your cheerful greeting with bated breath when he came home after work each night.  He waited to stop reaching over to your side of the bed at night, desperate to feel the familiar press of your skin against his.  He waited for the urge to text you pictures of things he saw on patrol to pass, knowing how much you'd love to see how much the tagger on the East side of the city had been improving.  

Shouto waited and waited and waited , but if anything the time spent away from you just seemed to compound his misery instead of alleviate it.  He spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left.  Every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached: 

"I was a bad boyfriend," Shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table.  

"I'm sure that's not true," Yaomomo consoled him, reaching across the booth to pat his hand comfortingly.  

"I was ," Shouto whined, slumping down in his seat so Mina could pass a drink to Ochako over his head.  She was only mildly successful and ended up spilling some of her cocktail into his hair.

"Whoopsie!  Sorry about that, Shouto!" Mina grimaced, taking a hold of her cocktail glass with another hand to steady her grip while Ochako sipped from an unreasonably long crazy straw.

"It's fine," Shouto sighed as another glob of frozen margarita hit his head and began sliding down his neck.  "I probably deserve it anyway for the way I treated her."

"Okay, look.  Maybe you weren't a good boyfriend," Mina said, dropping down in her seat while Yaomomo shot her a disapproving glare.  "I don't know, I wasn't there.  But you can't keep beating yourself up over this- it's not healthy!"

"Right!" Ochako chimed in while indicating to the waitress she wanted two of whatever Mina was drinking.  "You made mistakes, but you acknowledge that you were in the wrong.  That's growth, Shouto!"

"Maybe," Shouto said mulishly, tearing the corner of the label he had been picking at fully off the bottle.  

"Did you apologize?" Yaomomo asked softly, taking a dainty sip from her wine glass.

"No, I haven't.  We haven't talked since my Australia mission," Shouto explained as he tore his strip of label into tiny pieces of confetti.  "Do you think I should?"

"Do you feel like you have something to apologize for?" Yaomomo inquired as she tucked a lock of hair behind Jiro's ear, tracing a finger gently down her elongated lobe.  Jiro, who was totally sober but utterly exhausted, had ended up falling asleep with her head on the table despite the raucous atmosphere of the bar they occupied.  Shouto watched, utterly transfixed at the natural show of casual intimacy, and couldn't help but remember your silent disappointment every time he dropped your hand and stepped away when his friends entered the room.  

Is this what he had been so afraid of?  His friends seeing how much he cared for you?  It had felt so important at the time, keeping you tucked away into the private facets of his life, that he didn't even consider what he was missing by doing so.  Would you have looked at him that tenderly?  Found little ways to touch him in public to let him know you cared?  

Shouto had been so worried about showing vulnerability to the people in his life that he needed to be strong for; afraid that they would somehow find his newfound softness to be detrimental, that they would suddenly find him a liability.

You made him feel weak when all he knew was how to be strong, and the thought of being seen as anything other than what he had been created to be- useful, powerful, terrified him.  

He didn't see any of those things when he looked at Yaomomo and Jiro.  All he saw was his friends, happy and in love; and all he felt was the icy vice of regret constricting on his heart.

"Yes," Shouto swallowed, remorse thick and unmoving in his throat.  "I think I have a lot to apologize for."

Shouto had accomplished many difficult things in his life.  He'd survived an abusive childhood, escaped multiple attempts at fratricide as a teenager, and managed to muster up the necessary strength to begin building a tentative relationship with his Father as an adult.  These days Shouto could occupy the same room as Enji for nearly forty minutes before the urge to strangle him became too overwhelming, which was positively cordial by Todoroki family standards.

The combined difficulty of all those accomplishments paled in comparison to the one that sat before Shouto at this very moment: texting his ex-girlfriend.  He must have started the message a dozen times, trying varying levels of formality before deleting everything he wrote in frustration.  

I'm sorry.

I know this is all my fault.

Please forgive me.

I wish we were still together.

I can't stop thinking of you.

Do you wake up every day as sad as I do?  

All those messages were true, but discarded all the same.  It took all evening, but he finally came up with a message he was moderately happy with; hitting send before he could second guess himself.

Shouto, 8:57pm "I miss talking with you."

Shouto's chest clenched with anticipation as dots bounced across his phone screen, awaiting your incoming response.

Deku's Assistant, 8:58pm "I miss talking with you, too."

A wave of self-loathing rolled through him as your contact name flashed across his screen.  Had he really not even bothered to change your profile name when you'd started dating?  He really did manage to bungle pretty much every aspect of your relationship, didn't he?  You must have really cared for him to put up with his callousness for so long.  

Deku's Assistant, 8:58pm "I've really been missing our friendship."

Shouto, 8:58pm "Me too." "Do you think enough time has passed for us to start talking again?"

Anxious minutes rolled by as Shouto awaited your response.

Deku's Assistant, 9:05pm "I don't know.  But I think I want to try."

Shouto's heart soared as his fingers flew across his screen, the jubilant smile stretched across his face so wide that his cheeks ached.  

Shouto, 9:07pm "Oh, thank goodness.  I have so many pictures I need to show you."

send: img_7895

Deku's Assistant, 9:08pm "Is that the cat near the Chinese Restaurant??"

Shouto, 9:08pm "Yes!  It turns out that she was pregnant, not fat."

Deku's Assistant, 9:09pm "I feel so bad making fun of her chunky tummy now."

Shouto, 9:09pm "Do you want to see her babies?"

Deku's Assistant, 9:09pm "YES!!!!"

The joy of regaining your friendship was a balm to Shouto's soul.  He still longed for the intimacies you had shared and was pretty sure he would vividly remember the feeling of your teeth nibbling on his lower lip until his dying day.  But being able to talk with you about his work or offer a sympathetic ear while you vented about your temporary reassignment was positively elating after months of separation.  

Currently, you were recounting a run-in with the catty Senior Receptionist in the Marketing Department, something that had been happening with increasing frequency the past couple of weeks.  

"I have no clue what I did to offend her, if anything.  Maybe she just doesn't like me for some reason?" You sighed into the phone, the distant sound of keys jingling filling Shouto's ears.  

"Impossible," Shouto scoffed as he opened up the fridge to peruse for something to heat up for dinner.  "Everybody likes you."

"That's not at all true, but I'll take the compliment.  I need it after today," you groaned, a sound Shouto knew accompanied you arriving home and sliding off your uncomfortable work shoes.

"Have you given any thought to transferring back to your old job?" Shouto asked, peeling back the corner of a container of leftovers to give the food inside a tentative sniff.  

"I, uh, yes.  Actually.  I'm going to be transferring back later this week," you stammer, oddly nervous about such a mundane topic.  

"Really?" Shouto pried, setting his container of food down on the counter to focus his attention on you.  "That's sudden."

"It's been in the works for a couple of weeks now, actually.  I just…didn't know how to bring it up."

"Because we'll be seeing each other in person again?" 

"A little, maybe?  But I'm mostly moving back for HR Reasons," you said, inhaling deeply before continuing.  "Takai and I have…started seeing each other."

"Oh," Shouto breathed, stunned by your admission.  He knew that the two of you weren't dating anymore, but the sudden realization that you would be seeing other people sent him reeling completely off balance; scrambling to grasp his counter for support.

"I'm sorry," you said, tone anxious and shaky.  "I should have told you sooner, but things had been going so well and I didn't want to bring it up and ruin everything-"

"No," Shouto interrupted.  "You didn't do anything wrong.  Your personal life isn't any of my business.  Not anymore."

"I- I'm so glad," you sniffle.  "I don't know if I could bear not talking to you again."

"Does he…does Takai make you happy?" Shouto asked despite his better judgment.  There was no way that your answer would satisfy him.  But some part of his heart, the self-destructive portion that kept accepting Fuyumi's invitations to family dinners, needed to know.  

"He does, Shouto.  He really does."

"I'm glad," Shouto lied, sinking slowly to the floor as his knees gave way.  "I need to go now.  Dinner awaits."

You bid your farewells and disconnected, leaving Shouto slumped against his fridge with the chill of his kitchen tiles seeping down into his bones.  

It was one thing to know you were dating another man, but seeing it in person turned out to be another matter entirely.  Shouto wasn't prepared for the sour sting of jealousy that curdled in his belly when he exited the elevator at Deku's agency and saw Takai doubled over, lips pressed firmly against yours.  You pulled away first, positively beaming up at him while you adjusted his tie before he straightened up to his full height and put himself out of reach of your tender ministrations.  

You returned to your chair and startled once you registered Shouto's presence in your work space.

"Oh!  Shouto!  I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were here," you grimaced, nervously turning a pen in your hands to distract from the awkward situation you suddenly found yourself plunged into.  You weren't exactly sure how you were supposed to officially introduce a new boyfriend to your ex, but having them drop in while you were kissing likely wasn't the best approach.  

"It's alright," Shouto assured you with a brittle smile, nodding tersely to Takai who returned the gesture with a smug grin.  Shouto wanted to hate him for it, but remembered he'd done the same when he was in Takai's position; bolstered with pride from being on the receiving end of your affection.    

With a parting wave, Shouto slid into Deku's office, collapsing into one of his empty chairs and burying his face into his hands, tears slipping through the gaps in his fingers while his friend scrambled for a tissue box.  

"Shouto!" Izuku cried out, shoving a handful of crumpled tissues under his nose.  "What happened?"

"I- I've really lost her for good, haven't I?" Shouto croaked, taking the wad of tissues from Deku's hand and sloppily mopping at his cheeks.  

"I think so," Izuku whispered, eyes misting sympathetically as he rubbed a calloused hand between Shouto's shoulder blades as he cried.  

Likely sensing how uncomfortable running into your boyfriend had made Shouto, you had gone out of your way to minimize the amount of contact between the two of them.  You didn't mention Takai during your daily calls or texts unless necessary and Shouto hadn't run into the two of you together since that disastrous day in Deku's office, likely because you were maneuvering them around each other like a chess grandmaster shuffled pieces around the board.

While he knew that he would eventually have to get used to Takai if the two of you were to remain friends, Shouto still appreciated your willingness to give him space while he did so.  He always admired that kindness and compassion in you and would never admit that your efforts were ultimately futile because he would never grow accustomed to seeing someone else occupying the place at your side where he used to stand; the place where he still very much wanted to be.

Shouto reveled in this false world he had crafted around the two of you; where Takai existed somewhere in the periphery of his mind, a distant problem he need not consider unless absolutely necessary.  He knew more about you now than he ever did when you were together, the past distance between the two of you giving Shouto a newfound appreciation for every bit of time you spent together.  For the first time since your breakup, it felt like Shouto was approaching something that resembled peace in his life.

That happiness he felt, the equilibrium he had achieved, all came crashing down dramatically one unremarkable Thursday evening during your daily chat as you walked the final leg of your commute home from work. 

"Shouto.  I need to tell you something," you began, a serious set to your words that put Shouto instantly on edge.

"What is it?"

"Takai asked me to marry him," you confessed.  "And I said yes."

"I- that's," Shouto paused in the middle of the sidewalk, people dodging around him with peevish glares as he struggled to reign in his racing thoughts.  "That's… great ."

"I didn't want you to hear it from someone else," you explained, voice suddenly muting as you pulled away from the phone to talk briefly with someone else.  "I have to go.  Some people down in Accounting are taking us out to celebrate."

"Have fun," Shouto croaked.  "And Congratulations.  Takai is a lucky man."

"Thank you," you whisper, a smile audible in the timbre of your voice.  "That means a lot, coming from you."

"Have a good time.  And be safe."

"I will.  Bye, Shouto."

"Good-bye," Shouto whispered, the sound of the dial tone fading seamlessly into the ringing in his ears as he spun on his heel and walked through the doorway of the closest bar.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Mr. Deku, Sir," the bartender bladders, wringing his bar towel nervously with his clawed hands.  "I just- I didn't know who else to call?  This is just my second week working here and the manager never really covered what to do when a Pro Hero won't leave?  And I've seen you and Shouto together a lot on TV, so I figured that you might be friends and know how to handle this, but now that you're here I just realized that you probably have way more important stuff to do-"

Deku cut off the young man's panicked monologue with a raised hand and reassuring smile.  

"You did the right thing by calling me.  I'll take it from here, okay?  Finish up whatever it is you need to do to close up and I'll be sure to have Shouto out by the time you're done."

"Yes, of course!  Thank you!" The bartender shouted, scrambling off to carry a tray of used glasses back into the kitchen.  Once he disappeared behind the back room door the smile slid from Izuku's face as he took in his long time friend, slumped over the bar with his head buried in his folded arms.  With a heavy sigh, Izuku slid onto the stool next to Shouto, the metal squealing in protest at his added weight.  

"Hey, Shouto," Izuku greeted, patting his friend's shoulder firmly. "It's time to go.  You've more than worn out your welcome here, I'm afraid."

"Iz'ku?" Shouo slurred, rolling his head to face Deku with fiercely squinted eyes.  "When'd ya get here?"

"Just a moment ago."

"Oh.  Tha's a shame," Shouto sighed.  "If you got here eerly- earlly- sooner, we coulda had a drink t'gether."

"How about we drink these?" Izuku asked, fishing two large bottles of water out of his backpack and depositing one in front of Shouto.  Nose crinkled in distaste, Shouto cracked the seal on his bottle and started sipping, his hand icing over too cool down the water to his preferred chilly temperature.  They sat in a companionable silence, slowly working through their drinks and watching a replay of yesterday's baseball game on the TV hung crookedly from the ceiling above the bar's framed liquor license.  

"My ex- she's gettin' married," Shouto said, drawing a finger through a bead of condensation along the bar top.  

"I know.  The entire office was in an uproar over it.  She brought me a slice of cake."

"Was it good?"

"It was alright," Izuku shrugged.  "A little dry, but the icing made up for it.

"Tha's good.  She deserves good things.  All the good things," Shouto nodded, the weight of his own head surprising him as it flopped from front to back.  

"Takai is good for her," Deku said, swinging back the last of his water before slipping the empty bottle back into his bag.  

"Takai," Shouto hissed.  "Wha' makes him so special anyway?  Why does she like him better than me?  He's too tall!  I bet his Grandfather was a pair of stilts."

"Shouto!  I know you're sad, but that's no excuse to be cruel.  Takai is a good man who treats her well," Izuku chided, poking the arm Shouto was holding his water with to remind him to keep drinking.  Reluctantly, Shouto took another mouthful of water, swishing it between his cheeks thoughtfully.   

"He treats her better than I ever did."

"He does," Izuku agreed sadly.

"I wish- I wish I could go back.  Do it all different.  Do y'know someone with a time travel Quirk?"

"I- yes, actually," Izuku admitted reluctantly.  "But I'm not going to let you create an alternate timeline because your ex moved on and you're sad about it."

"Ugh," Shouto grunted. "Why do you always have to be so reapons- responsible?"

"Comes with the job, I'm afraid.  You're supposed to be responsible too, you know."

"Lame," Shouto sighed, throwing back the last of his water and passing the empty bottle to Deku. 

"Sure is," Izuku laughed.  "I thought Pro Heroes were so cool growing up, but it turns out we're all a bunch of party pooping killjoys."

"So wha' am I s'posed to do now?"

"Well, that depends," Deku huffed, scratching at his chin thoughtfully.  "Were you just friends with her because you were hoping to get back together with her someday?"

"No," Shouto cried emphatically.  "I won't lie an' say I wasn't hoping for that, but I'm friends with her because we're good friends.  She's good.  And she makes me want to be gooder."

"That's… good, " Izuku snorted, amused at his friend's expense.  

"Yeah," Shouto grinned enthusiastically, his eyes glossy and unfocused. "It is!"

"So if she's a good friend, you need to be a good friend in return.  Talk to her.  Support her.  But step back and take a breather if it gets to be too much for you to handle.  There's no need for you to set yourself on fire here."

"Unless's an emergency," Shouto muttered seriously, staring down at his left hand in contemplation.  "I'm definitely supposed to light m'self on fire in an emergency.  That's half my job."

Unwavering romantic feelings aside and unmentioned, things were going relatively well between you and Shouto.  Once the initial shock of your engagement wore off, he was able to resume calling and messaging you on a regular basis.  He did need to take a few days off of work when your wedding invitation arrived at his apartment, a simple but elegantly penned note printed on crisp ivory paper that overwhelmed him with thoughts of a future he wasn't prepared to deal with at that particular moment in time.  

But he liked to think he was handling things much better these days.  

"Hey, Natsuo?" Shouto called, holding up two delicate plates for inspection.  "Which china set best conveys the message 'Congratulations, but I secretly hope your marriage fails so I can have a second chance with you?'  Is it Wedgwood?"

"Lemme see," Natsuo said as he took the plates into his hand, angling them to and fro under the dim store lights to get a better look at the delicate patterns.  

"Shouto," Fuyumi scolded gently, returning a pale blue tea cup to the display shelf. "There's no need to put yourself through this.  We can just order something off the registry and call it a day."

"No," Shouto said firmly, picking up a salad plate and immediately setting it down with a disapproving frown.  "I want to do this for her."

"Alright," Fuyumi sighed in defeat, wandering over to a display of shining silver teapots.  "How about one of these?"

"It needs to be china," Shouto insisted, staring critically at an oval serving platter with a brocade print running along the rim.  

"It reminds me of her."

"You're gonna' need to elaborate on that, Little Bro," Natsuo drawled, his attention still primarily focused on the plates Shouto had passed to him.  

"She's…delicate, but strong," Shouto explained, running a finger admiringly across the golden rim of a gravy boat.  "And even though you see her every day, you're still stuck by her beauty- a timeless elegance you can't help but admire."

"Shouto," Fuyumi cooed, clutching the teapot to her chest.  "That's so sweet!"

"Also, dishes are something you use repeatedly.  So if I give them to her I guarantee she'll have to think of me during every meal," Shouto grinned deviously. 

"I think you definitely want the Wedgwood then," Natsuo confirmed, sliding the rejected plate back into its stand.  "It's too expensive for her to give away without feeling guilty."

"Perfect!" Shouto beamed, waving the dinner plate in the air and using it to flag down a passing salesperson, their face instantly paling as they witnessed the lack of care Shouto was showing their unpurchased merchandise.  

"You shouldn't have encouraged him to be so petty," Fuyumi chastised, walloping Natsuo soundly on the bicep.  

"Hey!" He winced, rubbing at the spot his sister hit.  "This is the most excited Shouto has been in months.   If buying spite plates makes him happy, then who am I to judge?" Natsuo shrugged, fishing his phone from his jacket pocket to check on his missed messages.  

"I guess," Fuyumi mused, chewing on her lip.  "It's pretty harmless in the end, right?  She gets a nice set of dinnerware and Shouto is satisfied."

"Yep," Natuso agreed, still engrossed in his phone.  

"I'll go help him pick out some wrapping paper then," Fuyumi smiled, shuffling off to look at the display wall of wrapping options while the salesperson who had been helping Shouto rang up his purchase with a dazed expression, unable to do the mental math to calculate just how high their commission was going to be.  

To say that Shouto became increasingly distracted as your wedding day drew near was a profound misrepresentation of events.  Emotionally, he was in shambles and it was beginning to impact his work.  Distracted and slow, he was taking more hits than ever before and limping home after clocking out more often than not.  His sidekicks had taken it upon themselves to make sure he never patrolled alone; creating an unofficial schedule that kept him under someone's watchful eye every shift for the foreseeable future.  

They thought they were being secretive about it, but the signup sheet was just taped up on the wall of the sidekick locker room.  The custodian had discovered it the day it was initially hung and reported it to him immediately. Shouto had been so touched by his subordinates' show of concern for his well-being that he ignored their less than clandestine whispering and did his best to pretend to be unaware of their scheming.  He was absolutely indulging them, but he also appreciated their constant company more than he could adequately express.  

It was hard to be alone right now.

So when they were alerted to a villain attack a couple blocks away, the odds were in their favor; a top ranking hero with a familiar partner in tow usually made for a devastating combination most villains didn't stand a chance against.  

But it seemed like everything that could have possibly gone wrong did.  Physical attacks from both him and Ice Pick, his sidekick du jour, weren't landing.  Their Quirks were sluggish and misfiring, Ice Pick had lost her footing and stumbled into his side; knocking him off balance as well.  The evidence was quickly pointing to some sort of luck manipulation Quirk that they had no idea how to counter. 

"Any ideas, Boss?" Ice Pick panted, sending a blast of needle-sharp icicles the Villain's way and screeching in frustration when they all miraculously managed to miss their target.  

"Nothing immediately comes to mind," Shouto grunted, ducking behind a parked car to take stock of the situation.  "I think our best course of action is to keep him distracted until backup arrives.  Call back to the agency and make sure whoever is en route is equipped with Quirk repressing gear."

"Roger that!"

Shouto rolled out from his cover, throwing out a flare blast he knew wouldn't connect, but would hopefully drive the villain away from the cram school he had been encroaching on.  Ice Pick, having finished relaying messages back to headquarters, was quick to return to his side.  

"Back up due to arrive momentarily."

Shouto opened his mouth to respond to her, but caught sight of something in the distance that pulled his attention away.  Speeding towards the villain in front of them at breakneck speed was what looked like a cannonball, but with a slight wobble around the edges like it wasn't fully solid.  Given what he ascertained about the trajectory of projectiles lobbed at the villain, Shouto knew it would never connect with its intended target and would instead deflect right towards where Ice Pick was standing.  

"WATCH OUT," Shouto bellowed, pushing Ice Pick out of the way and coating his right side in a thick layer of ice to absorb the force of the impending blow.  The projectile made contact and swept Shouto off his feet and sent him flying backwards off of the street and through the glass window of a nearby shop.  High pitched screeches and cries rang out around him as he finally came skidding to a stop in the middle of the floor, large groups of women scrambling to escape the destruction he left in his wake.  Employees wearing bright fluorescent vests were doing their best to funnel the panicking customers back through the emergency exit, but a few stragglers hung back to record the goings on with their cell phones until the very last moment.    

With a groan, Shouto pushed himself up into a sitting position, hand darting up tenderly cradle his obviously broken ribs with a pained hiss.  

"Shit," he swore lowly, ignoring the sharp pains in his side and the crackling sound that accompanied every breath.  

"Shouto!" he heard someone scream through the ringing in his ears, assuming it was Ice Pick rushing to his aide as he slowly shifted until he was on all fours, grasping onto the arm of a nearby chair to keep upright as his vision wavered.  

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You screech, pushing down on his shoulders to keep him from attempting to pull himself up into a standing position.  "You are seriously injured, Shouto!  Stay down !"

Shouto's head snapped towards you, which was a mistake because the sudden movement made a wave of nausea roll through him.  Swallowing down the bile creeping up his esophagus, he was able to finally focus his attention on you.  If it wasn't for his agonizing injuries Shouto was fairly certain he would have thought he was in heaven as you knelt next to him, an absolute vision in a white dress with delicately pearls glimmering in the fluctuating light from the emergency strobe lamps.  

"What are you doing here?" Shouto managed to mumble, distracted by the delicate swooping of your exposed collar bone.  He always loved running kisses across it- you always laughed while he did so, scrunching up your shoulders and burrowing in on yourself in an attempt to protect the delicate flesh from his wandering lips.  

He missed that.

He also missed what you were just saying.

"-on wedding dresses."

"Oh," Shouto wheezed, blinking at you owlishly.  "You look really beautiful."

"Thanks," you smiled, pushing on his shoulders until he was laying down on the floor, his head pooled in the fluffy fabric of your skirt, staring up at you with a dopey grin.  "You know, if you wanted to come dress shopping with me you could have just asked.  This is a bit dramatic even for you."

Shouto barked out a laugh and then immediately groaned as his lungs sharply protested his sudden mirth.  "Stop being charming," Shouto chided, eyes tracing over the tucks and folds of the bodice of your dress. "I can't handle you at full power right now."

"I'll tone it down then," you sniffled, running a shaking hand through his mussed hair, pulling out tiny slivers of glass with careful fingers and flicking them behind you carelessly.  

"Is this it?" Shouto mumbled, his lips slick with a mixture of spittle and blood.  

"Is what it?  What do you mean?" You asked worriedly, prying and eyelid open to examine his pupil.  

"The dress," Shouto clarified with a rattling sigh, frowning when tiny red dots suddenly bloomed across the pristine white fabric.  "Is this the one?"

"Oh," you breathe in relief, letting go of his eyelid and returning to running your fingers along his scalp.  "Yeah.  I think this is the one."

"'s perfect," Shouto whispered, eyelids growing heavy as the edges of his vision darkened.  "Defin'ly buy this one…"

"Shou-!  -ay awake!" You cried, tears streaming down your face while Shouto buried his face into your stomach, inhaling the scent of your skin layered underneath the fragrance of starch from the dress; snippets of your words filtering through his brain like a sieve.  

"-ncussion!  Stay awake!  Ple-!"

"I already call-"

"-Deku is on-"

And then there was silence.

The road to recovery was far longer than Shouto would have liked.  Any sort of brain injury booked you an immediate and non negotiable week long stay in the Hero Intensive Care Unit with CT scans scheduled daily.  Shouto flitted in and out of consciousness for a couple of days until they pulled back on his meds, and from there on out he made steady improvement, suffering through never ending days of under salted meals and reciting his ABCs backwards to prove his brain was in fine working order.  

Half-way through his stay he was visited by a deeply apologetic Gunhead and his terrified Intern, Cannon Blob, who had been the one that had lobbed the projectile that had taken Shouto out.  

"Hot shot here broke protocols and rushed ahead without me," Gunhead explained as Cannon Blob repeatedly bowed at Shouto's bedside, his lips wobbling as a constant stream of apologies tumbled from his mouth.  "I told him he's lucky you were able to push Ice Pick out of the way and throw up some sort of shield.  If you hadn't, he'd be visiting a grave instead of a hospital."

Shouto looked at the terrified Intern, still just a kid struggling to learn the cruel rules of the adult game they had signed their life away to play.  The reformed Hero Commission had raised the age for entering into Heroism after the war, the world rightfully opposed to the government keeping the gears of society greased with the blood of child soldiers.  But even with the increase in age, Cannon Blob just looked so young . Too young , really.   

With a weary sigh, Shouto dropped his hand down onto Cannon Blob's shoulder, interrupting his frantic bowing with a firm squeeze.  

"Take this experience to heart," Shouto said, pausing to cough gently into the crook of his arm.  "Learn from this mistake and follow through with that lesson; don't fall back into the same bad habits that led you to today."

"I will!" Cannon Blob blubbered, wiping his tears on his uniform sleeves.  "I promise I will, Shouto!"

"See that you do.  Gunhead is an excellent mentor.  Listen to him and I know you'll become a Hero I'll enjoy working with in the future."

"Thanks Shouto," Gunhead nodded, steering Cannon Blob away from his bedside and towards the door.  "Tell you Old Man I said 'Hello'".  

"I'd rather take another hit from Cannon Blob," Shouto stated blandly, a corner of his mouth curling at the sound of Gunhead's booming laugh echoing down the hospital hallway.  

It was still a good stretch of time before Shouto was allowed back into the field.  It was nice being back in his office at first, a welcomed change to the sterile environment the hospital offered, but he quickly grew restless on desk duty and looked for any reason to get out and stretch his legs during the day.

So he accompanied his company gofers on coffee runs, lugged packages around the mailroom, and hand delivered high-level clearance messages between nearby agencies.  Today's errand run took him by Deku's office, a place that he'd been avoiding for a while now.  

You'd been unable to visit him in the hospital since civilians are banned from entering unless they were the emergency contact or direct family members or of the patient, and he'd delayed replacing his phone right away to buy himself a couple extra days of contemplation before he had to speak with you again.  

While a lot of the accident was at this point a hazy blur in his memories, the image of you in that wedding dress was seared into his brain like no other sight had been before.  You were there every time he closed his eyes, invading his dreams in that flowing white dress.  More often than not his visions followed a rough outline of the actual event, with Shouto's head cradled in your lap while you ran your hands across his face with a tender smile.  But sometimes his brain would rearrange things to its liking, depositing you at the end of a long aisle and having you march steadily towards him.  

And once he had thought about you reaching him, a bouquet of fluffy chrysanthemums tightly grasped in your hands as you grinned up at him so sweetly that it made his teeth ache; he just couldn't find a way to stop.   

He didn't know how he could face you, knowing with absolute clarity how radiant you'd be as a bride.

But not as his bride.

The future he dreamed about wasn't his to claim.  He felt a fleeting moment of kinship to his Father, wondering if this is how he felt standing in All Might's shadow for so many years; success somehow both tantalizingly close and impossibly far from his grasp.  

When he'd finally switched his SIM card over to his new phone and booted it up, he was inundated with missed calls and texts; his inbox filling up faster than he could answer them, most of them from you.  Shouto had assured you that he was fine, but convalescent and in no shape to entertain visitors.  After double checking that he didn't need anything, you had backed off and resumed your normal messaging routine; occasional texts throughout the day and a quick call while walking home that Shouto let ring more often than he picked up.

With a fortifying breath as the elevator ascended to Deku's top office, Shouto prepared to face you for the first time since the bridal boutique.  The elevator doors whooshed open and Shouto strode purposefully towards your desk, a neutral look settled on his face that would hopefully not alert you to the panicked thundering of his heart.  

"Of course.  Yes, I understand.  I'll relay the message immediately," you spoke into the phone receiver perched on your shoulder, fingers flying across your computer keyboard as you logged some sort of information for future reference.  "Thank you for returning my call so quickly.  Have a wonderful day!"

Dropping the receiver into its base, you finally turned to address the new visitor, routine greeting evaporating off of your tongue when you realized who was standing in front of you.  

"Shouto!" You cried, leaping up from your chair so quickly you stumbled a bit as you rounded the desk and threw your arms around Shouto's neck with a sob.  "You're okay!  You're really okay!  I was so worried!"

"I'm alright," Shouto mumbled soothingly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you further into his embrace.  

"I was so scared," you cried into his shoulder.  

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you sniffled, eyes red as you wiped at your tears with the back of your hands.  "Just try to pass out a little less ostentatiously next time, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Shouto promised, passing you the handkerchief he had tucked into his back pocket.  You accepted his offering with a grateful smile, blowing your nose with an unbecoming honk as you tried to regain your composure.  

"Okay," you stated firmly, squaring your shoulders and moving back to your desk chair.  "I'm sure you're here on official business, so I'll stop monopolizing your time.  Deku's free so you can head on in."

Moving past your desk, Shouto drew to an abrupt halt when he noticed the new addition to your desk decorations; a fluffy brown Koala dressed up in a replica of his Hero costume.

"You bought one of the Kodoroki dolls?" Shouto asked, picking the stuffed animal up and running a finger over the pink patch of fur around its left eye with a fond smile.  

"Of course I did!  I couldn't resist supporting my favorite Hero and a cute koala at the same time!  No woman is that strong," you sighed with a helpless shrug.  

"I'm your favorite Hero?" Shouto whispered in awe.  "Still?  Even after- after how poorly I treated you when we were together?"

"You weren't so bad," you generously offered up in his defense.  

"I was a pig-headed, callous idiot," he reminded you flatly.

"You definitely had your faults as a boyfriend," you agreed with a laugh, taking Kodoroki back from his hands and fluffing his ears to your liking before returning him to his place of honor next to your computer monitor.  "But I can't imagine a greater Hero than you."

"How thick are these doors?" Shouto whispered, hitching a thumb towards your boss's office.  "Is your job in Jeopardy if Deku overhears you supporting another Hero?"

"Please," you scoff dismissively, bopping Kodoroki on the nose before you log back onto your PC to resume working.  "He has no place to judge when his office can double as an official satellite location for the All Might Museum."

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you #pigeoncoos🕊 #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #todoroki shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x y/n #shouto x you #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader

[coopigeoncoo]

An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 2: Lovers Know No Shame

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Somnophilia, Drowning, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.

This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.

---

Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town.  He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.  

And that might actually be a bit of a problem.

---

"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin.  You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.  

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest.  "I- can't breathe!"

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

You had paddled out to meet Eijiro early the next morning, deep bags carved under your eyes from enduring a night short on sleep and long on rumination.  Kirishima pulled your raft back to the same rocky outcropping you had been at the day before, scurrying up the slippery rocks after you.  Eijiro's numerous clawed feet clicked sharply as he moved to settle down on the rock next to you, his tail and legs flat on the ground while his torso remained upright.  His posture reminded you of the centaurs from your childhood story books, but with an aquatic twist.

"Alright!" You chirped excitedly, reaching into your water proof bag and pulling out all the things you had packed.  A spiral bound notebook, pencil, and a stack of internet articles you had spent hours printing out from your Grandpa's ancient inkjet.  The ink was streaky in some places, but you could still read the words if you squinted hard enough.  

"Since I have no clue about how allergic I am, I thought that we could run some experiments," you explained as you pulled your EpiPen and a bunch of over the counter allergy pills out of your emergency bag.  "Maybe I'm only allergic to lobster lobsters, but not man lobsters."

"I prefer the term 'lobster dude', but go on," Kirishima teased, picking up a blister pack of antihistamines and shaking it curiously; the pills inside rattling cheerily.

"And maybe it's only an issue if I'm ingesting lobster?  We already know that I can touch you without breaking out."

"Hey, yeah!  That's right!" Kirishima laughed in delight, picking up your free hand in his and swinging it happily with his.  "How's this?"

"Good," you smiled, adding a checkmark in the 'skin to skin' column.

"And this?" He asked, sidling close to you as he walked his fingers slowly up your arm, the scrape of his thick nails raising gooseflesh in their wake.  

"Also good," you squeaked, adding another checkmark to your chart as your breath hitched.  Kirishima smirked, sharp teeth shining as he leaned in close to your ear, biting down gently on the lobe before lapping at the shallow indentations he'd left behind.

"Still good?" Kirishima whispered, voice husky and reverberating in your ear.

"Uh-huh," you managed to respond, hands wobbly as you made another mark in your notebook; the check landing nowhere near its intended location.

"And now?" He asked, tilting your jaw so he could press his lips sweetly against yours.  You couldn't help the moan that is pulled from your chest; a desperate sort of sound that had built up during your weeks of longing.  Surging forward, you deepened the kiss; tongue running across the seam of his lips in a silent plea for more.  Eijiro obliged, opening his mouth and catching your lower lip with his teeth; increasing the pressure gradually as he ran his tongue soothingly across the sliver of your lip he held captive between his fangs.  

Chest heaving, you wound your arms around Kirishima's torso and began squeezing tightly, something you knew he enjoyed from your previous embraces.  There seemed to be something important to him in applying pressure; in squeezing and holding you tightly until you were right on the brink of discomfort before he let go.  You managed to squeeze your arms around him even more tightly, muscles quaking gently at the effort you were exerting.  Kirishima chirped, obviously pleased by your efforts.  

"Good girl," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin.  You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.  

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest.  "I- can't breathe!"

Your EpiPen was quickly thrust into your hand, fingers shaking as you fumbled with the cap and jabbed it down into the meat of your thigh.  Eijiro's long fingers wrapped around your fist, helping to hold the injector in place while he frantically whispered an unending string of apologies into your shoulder.  

Eijiro helped you back into your raft, your legs too shaky and weak to support your own weight unassisted.  He'd towed you back towards town silently, ignoring all your attempts to strike up a conversation.  Once the water had become too shallow to hide his tail and legs, he shifted to the back of the raft and gave your boat a mighty push back towards the beach.  Eijiro's eyes, shiny with regret, locked onto yours as you reached a shaky hand out towards him; your raft drifting closer towards the shore and further from where you actually wanted to be.   

The doctor of the town, a withered old man whose chest had been pushed nearly parallel to the ground by the merciless onset of scoliosis, kept a close eye on you as the epinephrine worked its way out of your system.  There hadn't been an official clinic running in town for years now, so your observation took place in his living room.  You kept each other company over microwaved dinners and reruns of an old detective show your Grandpa also enjoyed subjecting you to.  

Once you'd been given a clean bill of health you made your way back home on shaky legs, having a harder time than normal avoiding the uneven cracks in the sidewalk and pot holes in the road.  It would be just your luck to find out you were allergic to your boyfriend and break your ankle on the same day.  Eventually you make it back home, crawling up the front porch steps on all fours before pulling yourself up into the empty wicker rocker set next to your Grandpa.

You both swayed back and forth in companionable silence, each rocking completely out of sync with each other as you watched the dark blur of bats swoop across the night sky.  

"Doc said you're doing alright now," Gramps said, stumbling headfirst into the conversation. 

"Seems so," you mutter distantly, eyes focused on the uneven slice of moon hanging over the ocean. 

"Some kind of allergy thing?"

"Shellfish.  Remember, Gramps?  You were visiting when I got my diagnosis.  I must have gotten some cross contamination in my food or something," you reminded him, offering up the explanation for your reaction that you'd come up with during commercial breaks at the doctor's house.  

Your Grandpa hummed thoughtfully as he grabbed a tin of butter cookies off the small table next to him, plopping them down into your lap.

"Doc says your sugars might be wonky for a bit.  Thought the cookies might help."

"Thanks, Gramps," you smiled softly, working the lid off as well as you could with your weak and trembling fingers.  A scream is wrenched out of the deepest depths of your soul as a handful of spring-loaded snakes leapt up from the cookie tin, whacking you in the face before they tumbled down onto the half rotten porch deck.

"I should have seen that coming," you grunted, picking up one of the snakes by the tail and flinging it at your Grandfather, who was laughing too hard to notice your pathetic attempts at retaliation. 

Kirishima was quiet when you paddled out the next day, a veil of guilt stretched tightly across his face that remained in place no matter how many assurances you provided him.

"It wasn't your fault, Eijiro.  I know you wouldn't ever hurt me on purpose."

"But I still hurt you!" He bellowed, still overwrought from the events of the previous day.  

You hurled yourself over the side of your raft, the chill of the early morning water stinging your skin as you wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly.  Eijiro sighed deeply, practically melting against you, as he wrapped his arms firmly around your waist as he tilted backwards to float on the surface of the water.  You lay across his belly, head pillowed on his chest and legs running down the underside of his tail.  One by one, you felt his spindly legs begin to lock around yours, caging you into place against his rigid body.  

It should have made you scared; the nearly claustrophobic grasp of a creature so much larger and stronger than you.  But instead of fear, you found the pressure across your body comforting- like the weight of an anchor keeping you steady in tumultuous waters.

"I love you, Eijiro," you whimpered into the hollow of his throat; tears mixing with the droplets of sea water clinging to his skin. 

"Love you, too," he breathed into the crown of your head.  "So much."

"How much?"

"More than there are fish in the sea," he smiled, craning down to knock his forehead into yours.  

"That's a lot," you mumble in awe, a little bit dazed from the solid impact of his head colliding with yours.  

"Oh, Little Minnow," he rumbled deeply, the sound sending shivers crashing through your body.  "You don't even know the half of it."

It was a miserable sort of day, the kind where the overcast sky kept spitting out rain drops but refused to commit to actually storming.  The ocean hadn't gotten the memo though and churned powerfully, tugging your raft with such force that even Eijiro had a tough time holding it in place.  The rough waters weren't doing your stomach any favors, but watching the muscles in Eijiro's arms flex and twitch as he held fast to the rigging on your raft did wonders for other parts of your anatomy.   

The clouds darkened overhead and a bolt of lightning shot out across the sky, nearly blinding in its brightness.

"Let's get you out of open water," Eijiro said, looping the pull line around his chest, dipping his head below the water to briefly orient himself before taking off at incredible speed across the surface of the water.  Now that he wasn't about keeping his tail hidden he was able to utilize it more efficiently while swimming.  You loved peering off the back of your raft and watching his tail undulate just under the surface of the water; the plated sections hypnotically rising and falling beneath the waves.  When Eijiro was feeling playful he'd take advantage of your distraction and whip his tail fin up, flinging water droplets directly into your face while cackling underwater; his mirth foaming up to the surface in a cascade of bubbles.  

He was all business today though, his tail working overtime to pull you into the safety of a distant sea cave.  You hopped out of your raft the moment the bow hit the shore, allowing Kirishima to catch his breath while you took hold of the tow rope and pulled your raft further up onto the sand.  Your escape into the cave seemed to be a timely one, the sky opening up and dropping buckets straight down into the ocean outside of the tiny cave opening.  

"Look at that," Kirishima said, his voice almost totally drowned out by the sound of raindrops echoing off the cave walls.  "It's really coming down!"

"Yeah, it is.  I should text Gramps and let him know I'm safe and found cover," you said, already fishing out your cheap cell phone out of the waterproof bag inside your emergency pack.  

"It's funny.  How different our lives are sometimes."

"Oh? How so?"

"Everyone on the surface tucks themselves away during a storm, but it's an entirely different story underwater," Eijiro said, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back onto the sand.  "The rain washes a bunch of new food for the little fishies into the ocean, which draws out the bigger fish, who then attract even bigger fish; and before you know it everyone is just out and going nuts!"

"Sounds like fun," you smile, settling down onto the sand next to your boyfriend, running curious fingertips over the joint on his uppermost leg. 

"Oh yeah, big time!  So long as you aren't one of the small fish."

Your fingers traveled further up his leg, circling the membrane covered joint closest to his body; the entire system somewhat reminiscent of a hip bone in its socket.  Kirishima sucks in a sharp breath, his leg quickly contracting into his body.

"Careful there, Minnow," Eijiro warned.  "The closer you get to my belly the more sensitive things get."

"Oh?" You asked coyly, trailing your fingers up the groove in the middle of the plate stretched between his legs.  "So you can feel this?"

"Ah-," Eijiro hissed, his stomach muscles jumping.  "Yeah, I can definitely feel that."

"Feels good?"

"'Good'?" He laughed breathlessly, legs twisting wildly in the air while you traced twisting circles across his carapace.  "Spirits, it feels incredible."

"Can I keep going?"

"Yes!  Here, just let me-," Kirishima twisted his body to lock his hands around your waist, guiding you through his parted legs.  Safely through the forest of twisting appendages, you settle yourself down between his first and second sets of legs, legs straddling the section of carapace right below his belly.  As you began to lower your weight down onto Eijiro, you discovered there was a natural ridge that ran down the center of his plating that slotted in delightfully between your legs.

"Ohhh," you moaned, rocking your hips back and forth experimentally.  Eijiro tightened his grip around your waist, watching with wide, hungry eyes as you pleasured yourself against him.  

"That's good for you?"

"Yeah," you gasp as Eijiro's hands begin to guide your hips into a more exaggerated motion, guiding you up and down the bumpy ridge in his plating.  "Feels really good.  Can you feel it?"

"No, but I wish that I could."

"Well, I can't be the only one having fun," you chided as you returned your hands to their previous paths of exploration.  Eijiro threw his head backwards into the sand, moans shifting into a series of throaty clicks as you trailed the tips of your nails over the border between his skin and his plates; the malleable chitin pulsing underneath your touch.

"Again," Eijiro growled, pushing down on your waist to grind you down onto him.  You yelped in surprise at the sudden change in pace before you were able to adjust to the new rhythm; a faster rolling of your hips that sent jolts of pleasure shooting through you every time your clit ran across a bump in his shell.  

Tempo reestablished, you shifted your focus back onto Kirishima, running your hands across the plains of his belly; delighting in watching his abdominal muscles bunch and twitch under your teasing touches.  One hand trails back down to the soft rows of his transitional plates, marveling as one section of the milky white membrane between his shell pieces began to bulge underneath your palm.  

Bracketing your hands along the sides of the bump, you pressed down gently; watching in fascination as the soft plates across Kirishima's belly slid apart, revealing a glistening white slit.  You apply a bit more pressure, marveling as the head of his cock surges up and through the protective membrane.  Holding onto the skin on either side of his burgeoning erection, you tug the lips apart gently and gasp as the remainder of his penis slid smoothly into view without the membrane in place to inhibit its release.  

"Oh," you gasped as Eijiro's hips bucked suddenly, jostling his cock fully out of his body.  It was unlike any sort of phallus you'd seen before, impossibly wide at the base and tapered at the head with a long divot running right down the middle.  It glistened wetly and seemed to exude some sort of natural lubricant, drops of a clear, viscous fluid beading up around the base.

Eijiro suddenly let out a deep groan and jolted his hips again sharply; his cock bobbing towards his belly before quickly springing back up into place.  You watched, transfixed, as the divot down his cock seemed to grow deeper with each thrust of his hips; the two halves of his cock slowly working themselves apart.  With one final, desperate thrust, the head of Kirishima's cock slowly split into two, clear strands of mucus stretched thin between the bifurcated halves.  

"Oh," you muttered in shock, totally unprepared for just how alien this experience would be.  

"Everything okay?" Eijiro groaned, pushing himself up onto his forearms.

"There's two of them," you whimpered, swallowing thickly when you watched both halves twitch independently of one and other.

"Do humans not have two?"

"No.  No they don't.  Just the one."

"Huh," Kirishima said, staring down at his groin thoughtfully, trying to imagine what exactly such a thing might look like. "Weird."

"Can I…can I touch it- touch them?" 

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kirishma groaned in disappointment, rubbing a sand covered hand across the back of his neck.  "It's sorta'...juicy down there."

To perfectly illustrate his point, the base of his cocks began releasing thick globs of mucous that slowly trickled down onto the pale skin of his belly.  

With a mischievous smile you unzipped your emergency pack and pulled out a pair of bright blue medical gloves. 

"I may have added a couple of things to my bag," you smiled, coyly fluttering your eyelashes as you slipped your hand into the rubbery glove and snapped the wrist band dramatically.  "You know, just in case."

"It's always good to be prepared," Eijiro agreed, tucking his arms behind his head and reclining back onto the sand with a bright smile.

"So can I touch you now?"

"Fuck yes!"

To say that you had been enjoying your newly found intimacy with Eijiro was an understatement.  More often than not your mornings were spent tucked away into a rocky alcove while you leisurely explored each other's bodies.  

Today, your back was pressed up against Eijiro's chest; rash guard pushed up above your breasts and shorts flung away onto a distant strip of sand.  Two of Kirishima's glove covered fingers were buried knuckles deep into you while his other hand busied itself plucking at your stiffened nipples.  

"Spirits," Eijiro groaned, thrusting up against your ass through the waterproof blanket you'd draped over his waist before you'd shed your swim bottoms and straddled him.  "I wanna be inside you so fucking bad."

"I know, Eiji," you moaned, grinding down onto his fingers with shaking legs.  "I want that too."

"You're so tight.  I'd fill you- ah!  I'd fill you up so good," Eijiro cooed, the sound reverberating strangely in his throat and making your belly tighten. 

"I'm gonna' cum," you gasp, bringing up a hand to grasp at the breast Kirishma couldn't attend to, bouncing frantically down onto the thick fingers he had tucked inside of you.  

"Cum for me, Minnow.  Squeeze me as hard as you can," He begged, curling his fingers against you just so and pushing you gently over the edge. 

"Eijiro!" You sobbed, tightening your pulsating walls around his fingers.  Barely coherent, your hands scrambled across your body to locate his wrists; circling them tightly once you discovered their location.  

"Tighter," Eijiro hissed into your ear, twisting his fingers inside of you while you squeezed down on his wrists until your hands started to ache.  It was worth the struggle to hear the utterly lewd moan it drew forth from behind Kirishima's clenched teeth as he ground himself against your ass.  

"Fuck!" He panted, hips stilling beneath the blanket that separated your bodies as he came.  With an exhausted groan, Kirishima shifted his arms to encircle your rib cage under your exposed breasts, squeezing you tightly to his chest.

"Love you," he murmured happily into your shoulder.

"Love you too, Eijiro."

"Doc says you've been going through lots of gloves," your Grandpa mentions offhandedly over dinner one day, causing you to choke on your mouthful of fish chowder.  There was no way for your Grandfather to know you were using the gloves to jack off your half-lobster boyfriend, but the unknown implication of his words still left you mortified.  

"I- uh, yeah," you sputtered, trying to dislodge a piece of wayward onion from your trachea.  "I've been really worried ever since I had that reaction a few weeks back.  The gloves make me feel better- safer."

Your Grandfather hummed before grabbing the salt shaker in the middle of the table, giving it a hearty shake over his soup.  

"Want some?  Soup came out pretty bland today."

"Sure," you replied, narrowing your eyes skeptically at the shaker.  You had just watched your Grandpa use it with no issue, and would have noticed if he'd tampered with it after use.  "Thanks."

You sprinkled the surface of your chowder with salt, giving the soup a quick stir before lifting a spoonful into your mouth.  Face contorting into a grimace, you manage to swallow your mouthful before slamming your spoon down onto the table in frustration.  

"You put sugar into the salt shaker."

"Sure did!" Your Grandpa laughed, tilting his head back and lifting the shaker full of sugar over his mouth, letting a steady stream of granules pour onto his tongue.  

"How did Gran Gran manage to put up with you for so many years?" 

"Oh, that's easy," Gramps said as he scooted his chair away from the table and drew himself up onto shaky legs.  "Everytime I pranked your Grandma she'd withhold her feminine affections for a month.  I learned pretty quick to not cross her!"

"Ugh!  Gross, Gramps!"

"Is there anything else like you out there?"  You ask one day, sprawled across Eijiro's chest and belly while he floats atop the calm ocean waters.  

"Like what?  More lobster dudes?"

"Yeah.  Or, you know, other creatures."

"Oh, there's loads of us!" Eijiro grinned, suspending his dripping wet hand above your forearm and watching the droplets roll across your skin.  "Lots of lobster, crab, and shrimp dudes and dudettes."

"Is everyone a crustacean?  No mermaids or anything?"

"Mermaids?" Kirishima echoes, brow scrunched up as he digests the new word. 

"Yeah.  They're like you, but with a fish tail instead of lobster parts," you explain, knocking your knuckles against a thick section of carapace below his hips.  "Humans like to tell stories about them."

"Well, I've certainly never met one.  Doesn't mean they aren't around though. The ocean is a big place and this is really the first time I've been away from home."

"Really?" You ask, bracing your head on your arms to stare up into his eyes.  "What made you leave?"

"That's- that's a complicated question," Eijiro stammers, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

"You don't have to answer," you assure him, dropping your hands down his sides and into the water to press yourself against him as tightly as you could, smiling softly when you heard a series of quiet clicks reverberate inside of his chest.  "But I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."

Kirishima responded by folding all eight of his legs over your body, hands gently caressing your face as you floated along in the sun-warmed water.  

You laid naked and panting on the rocky cave floor, the blanket you had spread out doing little to cushion your back from the rocky surface.  

"Ouch," you whined, rubbing a hand down a section of your lower back you knew would be bruised tomorrow.  

"You okay?" Kirishima called out from the water, busy scrubbing himself clean of all the various fluids he'd secreted over the past hour or activity.   

"I'm alright," you muttered, pushing yourself up to a sitting position and twisting to examine your back as well as you could manage.  "I was laying on a rock or something.  Can you see if a bruise is forming yet?"

Kirishima swam over towards you, peering up over the rocky outcropping as he examined your back with a sympathetic hiss. 

"Oh yeah, that's already bruising big time," he said, pressing his fingers gently onto the contusion blossoming across your spine. 

"I forget sometimes," Kirishima whispered as he ran his hand softly up and down your back.  "How delicate you are."

"Compared to you everyone seems weak," you laughed, grabbing your swim bottoms and pulling them on, grimacing at the feeling of damp fabric clinging to your skin. 

You turn back around to look for your top and are caught off guard by the pained look on Eijiro's face.

"Hey," you called out to him, forgetting your shirt in favor of closing the distance between you both.  "Eijiro?  What's the matter?"

He shook his head sadly, pulling you tightly to his chest as he buried his face into your shoulder. "I'm not that strong," 

"'Not that strong'?  Eijiro, I've watched you crush a whale vertebrae in your bare hands!" You shout, incredulous at his self-criticism.

"That isn't impressive.  Everyone I know can crush rocks and stuff," Eijiro sighs.

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah," Eijiro whispered, swallowing uneasily as he gathered his thoughts.  "The truth is I'm kinda, well, puny.  For a lobster dude."

You cast a brief glance down towards Kirishima's lobster tail, trying and failing to imagine how massive his kinsfolk must be for Eijiro to be considered anything resembling small.  

"I see," you say in acknowledgement, not at all understanding his woes but doing your best to be sympathetic.  

"I know I should have told you earlier and I'm so, so sorry for misleading you like this," Kirishima said, voice thick with emotion as he clung to you desperately. 

"I don't- I don't understand?" You said, running soothing hands across his shoulders and upper back.  "How did you mislead me?"

"I let you think that I was big and strong and- and manly; when the reality is that I'm small and weak," he cried out brokenly, arms shaking and unable to grasp you with his normal crushing strength.  "You deserve someone better than me."

"Eijiro, look at me.  Please," you begged, placing your hands on either side of his head to guide his gaze to yours.  "Do you honestly believe that I'm with you just because I think you're strong?"

"I mean- yeah?" He sniffed, rubbing a fist across his face; cheeks swollen and mottled red from his tears.  "Why else would you be?"

"Oh, Eijiro," you coo, reclining backwards and pulling him with you, guiding his head down so it's pillowed on your still exposed chest.  "I'm with you for so many reasons and none of them are because of your strength."

"Really?" Kirishima says in awe, nuzzling down into the smooth swath of skin between your breasts. 

"Really," you assure him with a gentle smile.  "I'm with you because of you, Eijiro.  Your kindness, your positivity, your gentleness; those are the things that made me fall in love with you.  Not your ability to crush rocks or punch sharks or whatever sort of tough-guy stuff you lobster dudes do."

"We don't punch sharks," Kirishima huffed petulantly, nipping at the side of your breast admonishingly.  "We punch orcas.  Big difference."

"Of course."

"There is!  Sharks are pretty chill, but orcas are just jerks for no reason."  

You hum placatingly as your fingers comb through Kirishima's messy bangs, gasping as his playful nibbles turn into firmer bites along the underside of your tits. 

"It really doesn't bother you?" Kirishima asked in-between bites, dark pupils blown wide and eclipsing the warm red of his irises.  With a firm tugging you pull Eijiro's head into the valley between your breasts, pressing his ear firmly down against your sternum.

"Do you hear that- how fast my heart is beating?" You rumble quietly so Kirishima can focus on the thundering inside your chest.  "It's a song my heart plays just for you.  Does it sound like it minds that you're not the toughest lobster in the sea?"

"No," Kirishima said, sucking in a wobbly breath.  "It sounds excited.  Happy."

"Of course it does.  I'm here with you, after all," you say as you wrap your legs around Eijiro's waist, pressing your thighs against him with all your might.  He groaned at your show of brutal tenderness, arms scrambling to pull the bottom of the blanket between your bodies before he started rutting impatiently against your core, ear still pressed to your chest.  

You were so focused on the delightful friction building between your legs that it took you a moment to register the quiet series of clicks Kirishima was giving off, a strange cacophony of snaps and ticks that rose and fell in pitch faster than your ears could process.  

"What's that sound?" You ask, question punctuated by a wanton moan when Eijiro's hips start rolling in a spectacular fashion that makes your toes curl.  

"Your heart is singing such a beautiful song for me.  I thought that I should return the favor," he grinned up at you from between your swaying breasts; his smile so sweet and sincere that your heart couldn't help but skip a beat.

"Oh!" He exclaimed in delight.  "It wrote a new verse!"

You clung to Eijiro's front tightly as he swam you back to shore, allowing him to give you a leg up into your raft when the town came into view.  

"See you tomorrow," you grinned as you picked up your paddle, noting how the burgeoning calluses on your hands aligned perfectly with your grip on the aluminum shaft.  

"Not tomorrow," Eijiro said as he shook his head, eyes locked onto the distant horizon.  "There's a big storm coming.  I don't want you back out on the water until you see the gulls return."

"Really?" You said squinting out towards the horizon, hand acting like a makeshift visor to block the sun while you searched the clear sky for storm clouds.  "The weather report didn't mention anything."

"Trust me.  It's going to be a big one."

The alert from the emergency service came in just before dinner, riling the quiet town up into a frantic uproar of activity.  The men who ran the gas station loaded up their rusted pickup trucks and stopped by everyone's house to top off generators and make sure everyone had at least half a tank in their vehicle in case there was a call to evacuate.  The fishermen, who had obviously been tucked into bed to prepare for an early morning, were in their pajamas and lashing down anything that they couldn't remove from their boat decks.  

You had taken it upon yourself to run down the block, tossing garbage bins and lawn furniture into any open garage you could find and yelling at old men to get down off of ladders so you could scale them in their stead; shuttering second story windows and pulling handfuls of goopy silt from backed up gutters.  

You collapsed into bed slightly before midnight, too tired to eat anything despite skipping dinner.  A deep, distant rumble could be heard as your eyelids dropped closed, wondering what Kirishima had to do to prepare for the incoming hurricane and hoping he'd safely be able to weather the storm safely on his own.  

The power cut on and off frequently enough to make cooking inconvenient, but not often enough to justify starting up the generator.  The storm had stalled just off the coast a bit further south, ensuring that everyone would be stuck at home for at least a couple of days.  Neither you or Gramps were comfortable burning through fuel unnecessarily when you could make do with eating instant oatmeal and store brand toaster pastries.

The two of you sat hunched over an old backgammon set, squinting at the pieces in the muted storm light that filtered in through the windows.  You only vaguely understood the rules and were counting on your Grandpa to point out your mistakes, which meant that he was absolutely using any and every opportunity to cheat.  

"Look at that!  Another bear-off!" Grandpa cackled, removing one of his checkers from the board and adding it to his substantial pile of pieces.    

"So it seems," you mumble suspiciously, grabbing up the dice to roll for your turn.  

"What can I say?  Bad storms bring good luck."

"That is absolutely not a thing, Gramps."

"It is now.  I'm making it a thing," he sniffed, biting off the corner of his toaster pastry.  "Better than what the old coots down on the dock say.  They always blame big storms on some bad-tempered fairy tale creature."

"You're one of those old coots on the docks," you reminded him with a snort.

"Maybe so, but at least I don't think some giant crab controls the tides."

You thought then of Kirishima and the absolutely unreal strength kept tightly coiled in his muscles; how he could push through the strongest currents with casual flicks of his tail.  He'd said that his kinfolk were much larger and stronger than he was, and that knowledge made it hard to dismiss the claims of an all powerful sea-crab who controlled the waves.  

"A crab, huh?" You muttered thoughtfully, pushing one of your checkers onto an open point along your side of the board.

"You don't believe all that rubbish, do ya'?"

"Dunno'," you said, gazing out at the window to the churning sea that you knew contained creatures beyond your wildest imagination.  "The ocean is a big place."

"Whatever you paid for college was too much," Gramps huffed, dramatically clanking his last piece as he moved it off the board.  "I win.  Up for a rematch?"

"Absolutely not."

Having only started gaining practical coastal living experience this past year, you followed Kirishima's advice and stayed out of the ocean until you were rudely awakened by the cries of gulls returning to the shore; the birds in an absolute frenzy as they fought over the corpses of fish that had washed up along the beach.  The stench of putrefying fish was hard to bear, and it wasn't until you were a good distance out onto the water that you felt like you could actually get a good lung full of air without wanting to hurl.  

The storm had pulled in a surge of cooler air that had your teeth chattering when you rolled out of bed this morning, so you had opted to go to the trouble of pulling on a wetsuit this morning instead of your normal swimwear.  

Kirishima looked exhausted as you pulled your boat up next to him, deep bags sagging beneath his closed eyes and body stretched out wide on the surface of the water trying to soak in as much of the dim mid-morning sun as he could.

"Are you alright?" You ask as your boat pulls up next to him, the inflated side nudging gently into his side as one of his back legs tangles with the tow rope you threw down into the water, mooring you to him.  

"I'm okay.  Just tired," Kirishima sighed, opening up one sleepy eye as he sent a soft smile in your direction.  "That was just a really rough storm to weather through."

"I bet," you sympathized, leaning over the edge of your boat to run soothing hands over the plains of Kirishima's face.  He leaned into your touch with a satisfied groan, hands clamping around your wrists to hold your hands in place, basking in the warmth they provided.  

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too," you cooed sweetly. "I think that was the longest we've been apart since we've met."

"For sure," Eijiro agreed with a tired hum, pulling on your wrists insistently.  Giggling, you tumbled out of your raft and across his belly, wincing at the chilly water that lapped at your exposed feet and ankles.  

"Let's not be apart ever again.  I don't like it."

"I don't like it either," Eijiro whispered.

It had been another late night for you and Gramps.  Clean-up from the storm was as slow moving as the residents; the majority of the effort went into getting the fishing boats back onto the water as soon as possible.  Being the only person in town who could be described as able-bodied, you had been tasked with a lot of the more laborious tasks.  Your time had been spent sawing felled trees, delivering lumber and hardware down to the docks, and hauling garbage bags full of water-logged trash to the dump.  

It was far from glamorous, but you could see how grateful everyone was for your assistance; their stubborn pride preventing them from outright admitting how relieved they were to have someone with a good set of knees around to pick up the slack.  You'd received more firm back pats and approving nods this week than you had at any other point in your life and you had to admit that it felt nice, like you were finally being accepted as part of the town. 

Gramps was doing his best to help out, manning a stiff bristled push broom and making sure that the streets and walkways were free of debris.  The simple action of pushing a broom still took an awful toll on him, feeble as he was, and around sunset each day his friends would share a knowing look before one of them would gently pry the broom from his hands and ask him if he'd be willing to rustle up dinner for everyone.  

Your Grandpa would shuffle off towards the diner, his friends staring sadly at his retreating back.  They'd all share a brief moment of reminiscence, thinking back on when their friend had proudly strolled down the same streets in his prime.  A time when his back was straight and shoulders firmly set, an entirely different creature than the wrinkled and hobbling man before them.  

And then, with a somber sigh and a shake of their heads, they'd returned to work.  

There was always more work to be done.

"I'm home, Gramps," you called out as the storm door slammed shut behind you, kicking off your muddy sneakers on the rubber mat by the door.  

"In the Kitchen!"

You stumble into the kitchen, settling gingerly down into one of the cracked vinyl dining chairs with a groan.  

"I'm so sore," you whined, shifting yourself forward to rest your head on the table with a miserable whine as your Grandpa padded around the kitchen, turning on the oven and pouring the contents of a grease-soaked paper bag onto a baking sheet.

"Ohhh, those smell really good," you said as the smell of hot grease started to permeate the air.  "What are they?"

"Crab cakes."

"Gramps," you hiss in exasperation.  "How many times do I have to tell you?  I'm allergic to shellfish."

"No you ain't," he sniffed, reaching into the utensil drawer to pull out a flat metal spatula.

"Excuse me?" You scoff at his turned back.   "I'm pretty sure I know my medical history a bit better than you do, Mr. I-Can't-Keep-My-Own-Meds-Straight."

"There's no need to get snippy with me."

"I- you're right," you sighed, deflating a bit as exhaustion flooded in to cool your flaring temper.  "I'm sorry, Gramps.  I'm just tired from all the work this week."

"You've been doing an awful lot.  Everyone around town is real impressed with your work ethic," your Grandpa said as he donned a faded fish shaped oven mitt and pulled the tray of crab cakes out from under the broiler.  "The fellas down at the diner wanted to thank you with something special.  So they gave us the last fresh crab cakes of the season."

"A nice gesture on their part, but I still can't eat them."

"If you were allergic to shellfish you would have dropped dead by now," Gramps said as he pried one of the crab cakes off the baking sheet and deposited it onto a plate with a mustard colored floral border.  A second cake joined the first and the plate was dropped gracelessly onto the table in front of you, rattling the flatware. "I've been feeding you shellfish since your first week here."

Ignoring your screaming muscles, you shoot straight up in your chair, screeching.

"Are you serious, Gramps?  You could have killed me!"

"Could've.  If you actually had allergies," he shrugged, biting into a crab cake as he hunched over the sink in lieu of dirtying an additional plate.  "But you never did."

"But I- I remember the itching!  At that seafood restaurant when I was a kid!"

"That would be the work of the itching powder I dumped down the back of your shirt.  Not the lobster."

"You put itching powder down my shirt?  And then let me believe for literal decades that I had a life threatening allergy?" You laughed humorously.  "Why would you do that to anyone, let alone your own granddaughter?"

Running his greasy fingertips under the tap with a sigh, Gramps wiped his wet hands on the front of his jeans and pulled out the chair across from you, wincing as his hip popped during his descent.  

"The only time me and your Gran ever left this town was to visit you and your family.  And we loved that.  Loved seeing you, loved spending time with the family.  But the only restaurant you were willing to go to without throwing a massive fit was that seafood place that had the same goddamned food your Gran and I ate everyday at home."

"I think I remember that," you said, brow furrowing as you remember flashes of dinner trips out.  The sour looks on your Grandparents faces while you twirled excitedly in the parking lot, the kitschy fishing decor bolted to the walls, and the giant lobster tank displayed prominently at the entrance.  "I liked looking at the lobsters."

"That's putting it mildly," your grandpa huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.  "You would stand in the front and pick out the exact one you wanted to eat that night.  Gave the poor buggers names and everything before describing how you were going to eat them.  We were real worried about you for a while, there.  But you turned out alright for the most part."

"What did Gran-Gran say when she found out what you did?" You asked, gingerly picking up the crabcake between two fingers and giving it a tentative sniff.  

"Please," he scoffed.  "It was her idea in the first place!  I had never seen a woman more desperate for a steak in my life."

Kirishima hadn't been expecting the sudden impact of you throwing yourself out of the raft and into his arms, reeling backwards with a surprised grunt as you locked your legs around his waist and pushed your mouth flush against his.  Thoughts still muddled by the early hour, Kirishima eagerly leaned into your kiss with a moan, nibbling gently on your lower lip before realizing with a jolt what he was doing.

"Woah!" Eijiro shouted, pushing away from your mouth with firm hands on your shoulders; hand dropping down to your waist to search for the emergency back you kept around your waist only to find it missing.  "Oh, geeze!  Where's your Eep-a-knee-friend?" 

"Epinephrine," you corrected, grabbing his searching hands and directing them to more exciting positions on your body.  "And I don't need it anymore."

Pausing his frantic searching of your empty raft for your EpiPens, Eijiro slowly turned to face you with wide eyes.  "What do you mean you don't need it anymore?"

"Long story; but it turns out I'm not allergic to shellfish."

"You're not- but what about the experiment?  When you had a reaction and couldn't breathe?" Kirishima asked breathlessly as he ran his fingers over your mouth, shivering as you pressed gentle kisses to the tips.  

"Dunno'.  Could have been psychosomatic- my brain making me panic because it thought I was in danger," you explained, tongue darting out to lick a drop of seawater running down the side of Eijiro's index finger.  You locked eyes with him as you did so, delighting in the weight of Eijiro's full attention. "But I think that I just got overwhelmed kissing you after having waited for so many weeks."

"So what you're saying is-," Eijiro paused to groan as you sucked his digits into your mouth and began lavishing them with your tongue. "-you wanted me so much that it made you sick."

"Mmhmm," you hummed around his fingers.

"Me?" He asked in awe.  "You wanted me that badly?"

You slid your mouth off his fingers with a lewd popping sound, squeezing his wrist with both your hands as you nuzzled into his palm.  "You and only you.  I love you Eijiro."

"You're amazing," Kirishima sighed, pulling you in towards his chest again, peppering your lips with dozens of tiny kisses.  

"Ei-ji-ro!" You laugh, each syllable of his name squeezed out in the brief pauses between his presses of his lips to yours.  

"Sorry, Minnow.  We have a lot of missed kisses to catch up on," he grinned, diving back down to your mouth and working another dozen or so kisses in before your hand manages to squeeze up and block his amorous onslaught.  

"There are other things aside from kissing we could be catching up on too," you purred as you fluttered your eyelashes coyly.  Kirishima, momentarily stunned by the universe of possibilities suddenly unfurling before him, was quick to shake off his stupor and toss you over his back; tearing off across the surface of the water at a breakneck pace.

"Eiji!  My raft!"

"Right!  Sorry, sorry," he apologized, circling back quickly to snag the tow rope with one of his back legs before speeding off again.

"We need a game plan here," you said as you reclined back onto the blanket you had laid out over the sandy bank, spreading your legs wide to allow Kirishima to slide in between them.

"I've given this exact scenario a lot of thought.  Like, a lot, a lot," Eijiro admitted, pressing your knees apart a bit more so he could move in closer to you.  "I was thinking that I can hold everything together, slide a bit into you, and see how that goes?"

"Is it- do you think they'll separate inside me?" You ask, swallowing nervously; apprehensive about how compatible your different parts will be.

"Dunno," Eijiro admitted with a sigh, thumbs circling on the tender flesh on the inside of your thighs; goosebumps prickling up in response.  "I haven't ever done this with a human before.  Or anyone, really."

"I'm your first?"

"Yeah.  I mean, I hope you will be.  Once we figure out all the technical bits," Eijiro said as he stared thoughtfully down at your vulva.  "I told you before that I'm not exactly the guy that all the lobster ladies are rushing to mate with.  I haven't been chosen once since I've come of age."

"I don't think I'll ever understand a world in which there aren't women lining up for a chance to be with you.  You're incredible, Eijiro," you said as you wrapped your legs around his hips and pressed tightly, grinning when you saw the soft plates across his belly pulse in response.  

"You really think so?"

"I do," you smile sincerely as you run your hands down his abdomen, index fingers tracing across the grooves between his plates.  He groans then, hips bucking against your touch; the tips of his penises becoming visible underneath the thin membrane. 

"You ready?" He asks, sucking in a stuttering breath as the heads of his cocks breach through his shell.  He's quick to wrap his hand under the merged heads, holding them together while you both shift into a better position.

"I think so," you say, taking a deep breath and doing your best to relax your pelvic floor; lifting your hips up off the blanket to what you think the most successful angle of approach will be.  

"We can stop anytime.  You know that, right?" 

"I know.  I just- I want to be close to you like this.  There are so many things we can't have together.  I don't want this to be one of those," you whisper, giving voice to some of the thoughts that plagued the quiet moments of your days.  

"Oh, Minnow," Eijiro sighed sadly, resting his free forearm down onto the sand next to your head so the two of you were face-to-face.  "Even if we can't have this, so long as we're together I'll have everything I need."

"Do you really think that?" You sniffle as you wrap your arms around Kirishima's neck, holding him close as you feel the searching prod of his tips near your entrance.

"How could I not?" Eijiro rumbles as his hips press forward, finally having located your center.  The lubricant he secretes had built up around his fist, cold and slimy against your skin but wildly effective; his cocks sliding into you effortlessly.  You gasp sharply at Eijiro's sudden intrusion, startled by just how chilly he felt when buried into the warmest parts of you.  

"Spirits," he hissing, sliding his hand down his shafts so he could press in deeper to you.  "How are you so warm?  You feel like summer wrapped around me."

"Summer, huh?  Do you like summer?"

"I love summer.  It's my favorite season," he grins, slightly loosening the vice-like hold he had on himself; the heads of his cocks separating slightly as grip slackens.  They press in opposite directions inside of you, spreading you wide, and you can't help but jostle your hips at the foreign sensation.  

"You okay?" Eijiro asks in concern, nuzzling into your neck and scraping his sharp teeth over your thundering pulse point.  

"Uh-huh," you grunted, lifting your left hip higher than your right experimentally.  "I've just never had this feeling outside the gynecologist's office.  It's strange."

He pauses at your unfamiliar words, unsure of their meaning and what direction you wanted the events to take.  

"I'm alright.  Keep going."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," you said, twisting your head to the side to kiss his cheek reassuringly.  "I'm sure."

His hips resume their descent and you somehow manage to pull him even closer, breath and arms shaking as your bodies merge together.  Ever so slowly, Eijiro releases his penises, the twin organs flaring apart inside of you; the feeling foreign and overwhelming.

Moments pass as you both adjust to the strangeness of each other's bodies; warm and cold, soft and hard, narrow and wide- every part of you both as ill-fitting as a puzzle piece forced into the wrong position.  But as strange and awkward as your body felt, your heart was overjoyed to have the chance to be connected so intimately with the man you loved.  

"I'm gonna- gonna start moving," Kirishima groaned, his other arm moving up to bracket your head as he centered his position over you.  

"Please," you beg, cleaving tightly to your lover as he draws his hips away from the cradle of your thighs.  It was incredible, the feeling of being spread wider as he withdrew, like his body was desperately trying to stay tethered to you.  

Your helpless moan morphed quickly into a surprised shriek as Eijiro pulled back too far and unevenly, causing one of his cocks to whip out of your entrance and wetly slap your thigh.

"Shit!," Kirishima yelped, reaching down between you to try and shove the renegade cock back in.

"Ah- hold on," you wince.  "I think your hand had sand on it."

"Is that not good?"

"Very not good."

It took three tries and two dips into the water to get the sand rinsed off for you and Eijiro to find the right combination of movements to make your coupling possible.  You were up on your hands and knees, vagina as far from the sandy beach as you could manage, and Eijiro had developed a good sense of how far he could pull back without accidentally dislodging himself.  Your bodies swayed together as you were stretched and pulled beyond the limit of what you had ever thought possible.  

"I love you," Eijiro gasped into your shoulder, the press of his cold flesh against your exertion-heated skin making you shiver.

"Love you, too," you whimper as his hips stutter to a finish, watery semen flooding into you.  With both his cocks sheathed inside of you there isn't much room for his cum to settle and it quickly begins to trickle out from the space in-between his members; a thin stream that quickly builds to resemble the flow from a faucet.  It clings to your skin, cool rivulets running down your thighs that soak into the sand covered blanket wrinkled beneath you.  

The wet spot spreads larger beneath your knees, wicking towards the edge of the blanket as you watch its progress with wide eyes.  

"That's…a lot of cum."

"Yeah," Eijiro agrees, chest heaving with exertion as he rubs gentle circles across your lower back and watches his spend pour from you, eyes glassy and grin euphoric.  "It'll keep increasing the closer it is to mating season.  Normally most of it gets washed away in the ocean."

You hum thoughtfully and lower your top half down onto the hopelessly tangled blanket, resting your head on your folded arms.  Exhausted, you closed your eyes and let your mind wander as Eijiro held your rear up and in place with his vice-like grip, the squelched sound of his cocks rutting into you echoing lewdly off the cavern walls as you drifted off to sleep.     

"Did you pull a muscle or something?" Your Grandpa asks as the quiz show cuts to a commercial.  He had woken up with a nasty cough, the wet sort that rattled in his lungs and worried you enough to dig the humidifier out of the attic storage.  "You're walking kind of funny today."

Being able to walk at all was a miracle after Eijiro's enthusiastic introduction to coitus the previous day.  Interior spaces you didn't even know existed and been prodded and pounded so thoroughly you were surprised your poor vagina hadn't fallen out as you stumbled your way home last night.  Grandpa was already asleep when you'd fallen into bed, debauched and raw and already fantasizing about the next time you'd feel Eijiro inside of you.  

"Cramps.  It's that time of the month."

Gramp's face puckered in revulsion.  "I don't like that sort of talk over dinner."

"Then don't ask about my body over dinner.  Simple as that," you say, sipping at a spoonful of chowder as the game show abruptly cuts back on, the host welcoming you back with a saccharine smile and starting the next round of trivia you could barely hear over your Grandfather's wheezing breaths.

Today you were in shallower water where Eijiro could stand, your legs locked around his waist and his cocks speared inside of you, anchoring you in place as you floated on the surface of the water.  Eijiro's fingers worked over your clit, drawing out your last orgasm for as long as he could while you clenched and writhed around him.  Plumes of semen flowed out into the water from where you were joined together, the milky white spurts dissipating quickly into the murky waves.

"How does lobster dude procreation work anyway," you wonder, watching the latest spurt of semen drift away in whirling tendrils in the water.  "Could a lady lobster get fertilized by you cumming in the ocean?"

"No.  It's a more direct process than that," Eijiro explained, hands drifting to your flanks to keep you steady as a large wave rolled by.  "Very similar to what we're doing now.  Except they have two holes."

"Do I have some news for you," you laugh, pulling your rash guard back down over your chest as a cool breeze blows past.  "Human women have three."

"What?" Kirishima exclaims, rearing back to try and get a clear view of your lady-bits through the dark water.  "Where are they?"

"Don't worry.  I'll show you later."

Still peering down at where you were stretched tautly around his girths, Kirishima ran a curious finger around your swollen lower lips.

"And how about you?  Where do little humans come from?"

"From boring men with only one penis," you sigh tragically.

"That's right!  I'd forgotten about that."

"Yep.  They stick it in and cum an absolutely paltry amount-"

"I'm really starting to feel bad for human dudes here," Eijiro interrupted.

"-and if everything works out, nine months later the woman gives birth to a baby."

"Just one?" Eijiro exclaims, jaw slack in surprise.

"Usually.  Sometimes there can be a couple more, but it's not typical," you explain as you reach up from the water towards Kirishima, who instantly heeded your silent plea and pulled you upright into his embrace.  "How many babies do lobster ladies carry?"

"A few hundred at least.  Sometimes a thousand or so if it's a good year."

"A thousand?" You sputter in disbelief.   "Oh, those poor lobster mamas!  Birth must be horrific."

"Well, the eggs are pretty small when they first come out," Eijiro explains.  "They're like, the size of my pinky nail."

"Eggs, huh?" You murmur as you sink down into his embrace, head coming to rest in the cradle of his shoulder, the sound of his heart indistinguishable from the rush of the ocean. "I don't think we can make babies together."

"Probably not."

The waves lapped at your thighs, washing away the tacky remains of Kirishima that clung to your skin; remnants of an impossible future you hadn't even thought to begin dreaming of.  

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima eijiro x y/n #eijiro x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

Hot Dish, Chapter 1: The First Course

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Sexual content, Exhibitionism, Chikan, Heavy Petting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Safe Sex, Consentual Sex, Swearing, Romance, Soft Shigaraki, Posessive Shigaraki, Domestic fluff, Mutual Pining

---

Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal.

Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date.

--- "You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Tomura glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Whatever."

"Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk."

--- A slow, domestic romance between a volunteer at a soup kitchen and the newly destitute leader of a notorious villain organization.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Chapter 1: The First Course

It was the busiest time of year at the soup kitchen.  The weather had recently turned bitter cold and the promise of a warm meal and a respite from enduring the brutal weather was too good of an opportunity for people to pass up. You had started volunteering during high school, looking for a way to beef up your college applications, and found a great deal of personal fulfillment helping out others in your free time. 

Now in college, you still made time to regularly volunteer even though your budget would greatly benefit from you picking up more shifts at your part time job instead.  But you were driven to altruism by that stubborn organ beating in your chest; reminding you of how much you loved the regulars, your friends in the volunteer group, and the feeling of contributing something meaningful to society. 

As much as you enjoyed the work, there were definitely plenty of things about it you wish you could change; the biggest being the terrible feeling you got when the time came to shut the door and cut the line off because you'd reached maximum capacity for the night.  Having to turn people away, hungry and cold, always gnawed at your conscience and you desperately wished that you had a Quirk that could somehow stretch your food supply farther- make every bite more filling or every pot bottomless.  

But you didn't.  So as soon as the last pan of curry was placed up onto the chafing dish you waved to get the attention of the volunteer at the door, a massive literal bear of a man, who then began to make apologies to the people queued up outside as he closed up the entrance.  

"Looks like Scruffy Hot Guy didn't make it in today," Kiyomi, your long time friend and fellow volunteer, teased with a gentle elbow to your ribs.  

"Oh, hush!" You chide her sharply as you scoop up rice. 

"Relax!  It's not like I'm going to tell the guy you think he's- what were your words?  'Brooding and mysterious'?"

"I deeply regret telling you that," you grumble irritably as you slide a plate in front of Kiyomi for her to ladle a serving of curry onto.  Laughing at your expense, you watched as she gave the curry a stir, counting the remaining chunks of chicken and mentally calculating how to divide them up fairly amongst the remaining guests in line.  The next few plates were distributed without incident, people quietly thanking you both as they received their entrees and continued down the line as you and Kiyomi chatted together.  

You were dishing up one of the final scoops when a deep, growling voice interrupted you.

"That ain't enough rice," the man in front of you grumbled in complaint.  He was unbelievably tall, his head nearly scraping the spotty and discolored ceiling tiles as he crossed his arms across his chest, flexing his basketball-sized biceps in an obvious bid to intimidate you.  You had never seen him before, but that wasn't terribly uncommon as people generally filtered in and out as they moved around the city looking for new job opportunities.  

"Excuse me?"

"I said that ain't enough damn rice.  That might be enough for a small thing like you but I need more."

"I'm sorry, sir.  Everyone gets the same dinner serving size to keep things fair.  Further down the line we have protein bars and fruit that you can supplement your meal with-"

"I don't want protein bars!" The man yelled.  "Damn things taste like sawdust!"

You were about to offer another apology and attempt to diffuse the situation when another voice spoke out from behind the irate man.

"Take the food or get out of line."

"What did you say?" The man screamed, spinning around to confront the man behind him.

"Scruffy Hot Guy," Kiyomi gasped in delight.  Sure enough, the object of your idle gossip appeared from behind the screaming man; somehow managing to appear both disinterested and profoundly irritated by the goings on in front of him.  

"I'm hungry and you're holding up the line.  Move, " he practically growled from behind his facemask, his red eyes narrowing in warning.  The large stranger threw his head back, clearly amused by the willowy man's implied threat.  

"Oh, yeah?  Tell you what, why don't you just give me your portion then?  No way a stick like you needs to eat much."

You didn't clearly see what happened next.  There was no scuffle or physical altercation, just Scruffy Hot Guy hooking a finger over his facemask, preparing to pull it down, as he disappeared behind his aggressors' wide frame.  The next thing you knew the large man was reeling back, white as a sheet, as he tripped over his feet in his hasty scramble to the exit.  

Scruffy Hot Guy stepped forward in the line, now occupying the space in front of you as he adjusted his facemask back into position and pulled the sides of his hoodie forward to obscure his face as best he could.  

"That was amazing," you breathed, scooping up a slightly larger helping of rice onto his plate now that there was one fewer person in line.  "What did you even do to that guy?  A Quirk thing?"

"Nah," Scruffy Hot Guy shrugged, scratching at his neck uneasily under your scrutiny.  "I just showed him my face.  Guess I must be pretty ugly."

"I sincerely doubt that," you laugh as you push his plate down the line towards Kiyomi.  "But even if you were, I'd still give you my number if you asked for it," you said, staring directly into his eyes and raising your eyebrows imploringly.  His eyes widened, obviously stunned by your flirtation.  The skin above his facemask burned a brilliant red, temporarily coordinating with his eyes in a very fetching way. 

He mumbles something under his breath as he quickly averts his eyes, hunching his shoulders as he shuffles down the line; grabbing the completed tray from Kiyomi’s hands before loading up his coat pockets with protein bars and trail mix packets and sliding into an open seat on the far end of the room.    

Kiyomi shakes her head, laughing at your rejection as she preps the final plate of the evening.  

“What?” you huff in exasperation.  “You can’t blame me for shooting my shot!  I’ve been waiting weeks for an opening!”

The last person in line, an old woman who came around every week or so, tsked disapprovingly.  “The Gods take the time to craft a man with a butt like that and you wait weeks to make a move?  Are you really that stupid?”

“Hey!” You screech indignantly while Kiyomi throws her head back, cackling.  “I’m not stupid!  Just…cautious.  You never know what someone is really like, you know?”

“True enough,” the old woman hummed, gently rummaging through a pile of overripe bananas. “But I take it that you have a better idea of what sort of man he is now?”

You spared a glance over to the far side of the room, where Scruffy Hot Guy was slowly savoring his meal; his hood pulled low down low to obscure his face while he ate. 

“Yeah, I think I do.”  

Scruffy Hot Guy hadn’t seemed to be particularly receptive to your first advance, but he also hadn’t outright rejected you either.  So you’re currently stuck occupying some sort of weird flirtatious limbo; unsure if you should continue your pursuit or abandon your efforts entirely.  

Deciding to play it by ear, your life cycled through your normal routine until your next shift at the soup kitchen.  

“Well, well, well!  Look who it is!” Kiyomi crowed in delight as Scruffy Hot Guy stepped up in front of you again.  “Our very own Hero has returned to us!”

“Please, Kiyomi,” you scoffed as you slid a grilled fish onto a plate.  “He’s better than a Hero; he’s a good person.”

“Aren’t they pretty much the same thing?”

“Not always,” you mumble, using your tongs to scrape at some fish glaze that had burned at the bottom of the serving dish, entirely missing the interested gaze of Scruffy Hot Guy quietly assessing you.  

"Oden today," you said as you ladled broth into a large soup bowl, chunks of fish cake floating up to the top.

Scruffy Hot Guy peered at the bowl, seemingly unimpressed by the offering.

"Not a fan?"

"It's fine," he mumbled, placing the bowl down gently on his tray, careful not to spill a single drop despite the bobbing radish slices sloshing the broth about.  

"If you have an allergy or something there are some leftovers from yesterday I can reheat for you."

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head gently, pausing to spoon some seven spice on top of his bowl.  "I usually try to pack some of the food away for later.  But soup doesn't travel very well."

You hummed thoughtfully as he finished his meal selection and took his seat.  Once the line had died down you ducked back into the kitchen, snagging a disposable coffee cup and lid before making your way back to the cafeteria.  Silently, you deposit the empty cup next to Scruffy Hot Guy's tray before continuing on past his table to grab a tub of dirty dishes to haul back to the kitchen for cleaning.  

"Thank you," he said quietly as you passed behind him, carefully spooning a hardboiled egg into the cup you'd left him.  

"Of course."

"We have to stop meeting like this," you sighed dramatically, passing him a bowl of stir fried vegetables. 

"How else would we meet?  It’s obvious we run in very different social circles."

"What makes you say that?"

"Really?" Scruffy Hot Guy scoffed.  

"I'm serious!" You pouted, looking critically down at the parts of your ensemble visible around the disposable apron you were required to wear.  You took a lot of pride in your appearance, a good portion of your slush fund spent on building your wardrobe and keeping your nails finely manicured.  Friends had joked about your high maintenance appearance in the past, but you personally likened yourself to a painting; already beautiful to start with but an absolute masterpiece with the right frame to accentuate your features.  Finding no obvious flaws in your appearance, you narrow your eyes at him peevishly.

"Are you saying you'd be ashamed to be seen with me?"

" What," he sputtered, his voice pitched somewhere between shocked and indignant.  

"Don't you 'what' me, mister!  I'll have you know that I'm hot enough to roll with any crew."

"That's not the issue."

"It's not?  So you think I'm hot then?" you pry coyly, fluttering your lashes.  Choking on air, he slams his bowl of vegetables down onto his tray and quickly bumbles away as you laugh.

"Where’s the bun?" Scruffy Hot Guy asked, staring down at the lump of meat you were serving up.

"It's hamburg steak, not a hamburger."

"So it's a burger.  With no bun."

"Right.  No bun, but there is gravy.  You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch.  Scruffy Hot Guy glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Whatever."

"Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him.  "There you go!  A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk."

Cheeks rosy above his facemask, he mumbled something intelligible before calmly stepping away.  Smiling widely, you spun on your heel to face Kiyomi.

"He didn't run away!"

"He didn't run away," she confirmed, laughing as you pumped a fist in victory.

"Soooo," you drawl sweetly. "Am I ever gonna get a name out of you?" 

Scruffy Hot Guy visibly stilled, obviously deeply uncomfortable by your current line of questioning.   

"No need to answer if you don't want to.  I won't pry.  I can just call you by the nickname Kiyomi and I gave you," you offer in concession, laying a generous serving or rice gratin next to a small pile of lettuce leaves.  

"What name is that?"

"Scruffy Hot Guy."

A sound that could be best described as some sort of plaintive wail escaped Scruffy Hot Guy as he scratched nervously at his throat.  

"You should-," he paused to swallow thickly.  "You should call me Tenko.  It's better than- than that."

"Tenko it is, then.  Hot Guy Tenko."

"You're insufferable," he growled.

"Well, misery loves company so how about you and I suffer together over coffee sometime?"

"Don't turn my insults into propositions," he chided, selecting a small pouch of dressing for his wilting salad.  

"Sorry, no can do.  I'm nothing if not persistent."

"Persistent?  That's a considerate way to frame that bratty attitude of yours."

"Oh?  What would you call me instead?"

"I would call you what you are," Tenko says, the space between his eyes crinkling with malicious glee. "An absolute Pest."

"Tenko!" You gasp, a gloved hand raised above your chest in mock outrage. "Save the cute nicknames for when we're in private!"

Tenko grunts irritably as he rolls his eyes and steps away from you.  

Kiyomi whistles sharply, waving a hand to fan at her face. "Goodness, that was intense.  When's the wedding going to be?"

"Spring next year.  I want a long engagement so I can save for my dress," you grin, sending a wink at Tenko when you catch him trying to sneak a glance back at you.  He glares back before dropping his head and digging into his meal.

The past few months had been the absolute lowest point in Tomura's life.  His Master had been brought low and imprisoned in Tartarus, the League was fractured and forced underground, and all of his available resources had been drained during the frantic scramble for survival those first few weeks he spent on the lam.  His life of ease and luxury had been erased in an instant; falling to ashes around him like he had dusted it with his Quirk himself.  The summer months outside hadn’t been awful, but he had been forced from his favorite hiding spots once the weather turned colder.  

These days, he spent the majority of his waking hours holed up in various arcades; lifting near empty play cards from unminded purses and pockets and taking hits from unstubbed cigarettes he pulled from the ashtrays to keep his hunger at bay.  Whatever prizes he managed to win he would deliver to Toga during their brief meetups; small things like cell phone straps and plush animals that meant nothing to him, but that she would cradle to her chest with a delighted squeal like they were precious treasures.       

When the League had split, Twice had tearfully supplied them all with maps of the areas he was familiar with.  They were bizarre, scrawling things, folded up like origami cranes and written in a mix of precise pencil notes and wild glitter pen scribblings.  The maps turned out to be just as useful as they were visually abrasive, though.  He’d taken the time to write out common Hero patrol schedules, potential hide outs, the stores that sold the cheapest burner phones, and places to grab free meals.  That was what brought him into the soup kitchen that first day.  

He hadn’t been expecting a lot, because little was all he seemed to be capable of receiving these days.  Little food, little sleep, little peace, little comfort.  But he definitely hadn’t been expecting you.

You threw Tomura through a loop like you pitched for the Major Leagues; with a devastating and seemingly effortless force that left him awestruck and barely holding onto the metaphorical bat.  

There had been plenty of women before.  They were always there, buzzing about the fringes of wherever people of power congregated.  But interactions with them were simply transactional, trading calculated touches and honeyed words for money or influence; things Tomura was awash in for years and freely utilized to sate his desires.  

So flirting was a bit of a new experience for him.  

He didn’t know what to do when you smiled at him; guileless and simply pleased by his presence.  When you flirted with him it was out of some misguided, but sincere, desire to be closer to him.  There was no angling for his money because there was no longer any money to be had.  The mere idea that you found him somehow valuable and worthy of your attention was as flattering as it was bewildering and left Tomura floundering more often than not.  

Tomura didn’t understand your interest.  He’d seen himself in the mirror and held no illusions about his appeal.  He was pale and lanky; crusty and scarred.  He’d seen his partners hide grimaces when his shirt came off, their fingers giving his flaking skin a wide berth as they hesitantly set a course across his back and shoulders.  

And as distasteful as his body was, Tomura knew his personality wasn’t much better.  

There wasn’t a single thing about himself that should draw your attention.  But he still desperately, recklessly, wanted it just the same.  

“Shit,” Tomura whispered, dropping his head forward to thump against the window of the pachinko machine he was seated at, the wild pinging of the steel balls synchronizing distressingly well with the frantic beating of his heart.   

You had been pulling on your regulation hair net when a flier on the bulletin board in the volunteer lounge caught your eye.

“Oh, no,” you moaned miserably.  “We have a Hero Day coming up?”

Various groans of confirmation came from the other volunteers, each sounding as excited at the prospect as you were.    

“Who is it this time?” 

“Mt. Lady and Uwabami.  They got into a spat at some televised fundraiser so their PR teams are shoving them together here to kiss and make nice for the cameras,” Kiyomi explained as she slipped the strap of a plastic apron over your head.    

“Great.  Just great,” you sneered as you hip checked the door open and made your way to the dining room.  

“So, is today finally the day?”

“Is today the day for what? ” Tenko asked, waiting impatiently for you and Kiyomi to finish serving his tempura.  

“Resolving this obvious tension between us by going out on a date together?”  

Tenko narrowed his eyes, an inscrutable look on his face.  “And where exactly would I take you to?  A different soup kitchen?”

“Nah, this one’s pretty nice, don’t you think?”

Tenko sent a brief look off to the right, where a wet mop was propped up in the corner near the section of floor missing a large chunk of linoleum.  “Nice.  Sure. ”   

“Well, nice enough for a first date at least.”

“If this place is first date worthy I can’t imagine what sort of place you’d consider for a second one.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see then, won’t you?” you replied with a wink.

“I guess I will,” Tenko said as he slid his tray down the line before looking back over his shoulder.  “Well?  Are you coming or not?”

Eyes wide, you spin around to face Kiyomi who’s silently mouthing the word ‘Go’ while shooing you away with frantic hands.  Tugging off your gloves and hair net, you dashed out from behind the counter, skidding behind the last patron in line who called out as you passed:

“Get it, girly!” he cackled as you made a brief detour to dump your used sanitary into a trash can.

"I'm working on it, old man!"  You hollered back, sliding into the chair opposite of Tenko while the other occupants of the table scrunched their chairs and trays towards the far end of the table to give you two some semblance of privacy.  

"Hero Day?" Tenko sneered down at the flier on his tray that was advertising the fast approaching special event.

"Yeah," you sighed. "It gets really busy here on Hero Days, so we like to give the regulars a heads up.  The Hero agencies usually donate larger quantities of better quality food, so the bigger meals draw in folks who would normally hit up other soup kitchens."

"So they bribe desperate people with food to act as props for their social media campaigns?"

"Yep," you agreed as you passed Tenko his plate, which he slammed down over the faces of Uwabami and Mt. Lady grinning up at him from his tray.

"Disgusting, " he spat as he stormed away to his usual seat.

The force of everyone's collective will power wasn't enough to stop Hero Day from arriving at the soup kitchen.  The entire crew of volunteers had arrived unreasonably early that morning to clean the facility from top to bottom in preparation for the arrival of Mt. Lady, Uwabami, and the veritable fleet of sidekicks and photographers they would both bring.  Once the janitorial work was completed and the entire front room smelled overwhelmingly of bleach, everyone migrated back into the kitchen and began assembling and bagging up sandwiches to be handed out to the scores of hungry folks who would be drawn to the large event but unable to make it inside before the line cuts off and the doors close.  

You were stacking large boxes of finished sandwiches against the back wall when one of the volunteers, a middle-aged man with a bat mutation, paused in his work of spreading mayonnaise across slices of wheat bread when his ears twitched.  

“They’ve arrived,” he warned quietly as he resumed his work.  “And they don’t sound particularly happy.”  

Kiyomi snorted.  “What else is new?”

Another ear twitch.  “Oh.  Now they’re arguing with the Program Director.  Things are getting heated.  Someone should go up there and back her up.”

Everyone was quiet at the idea of having to go toe-to-toe with two Heroes and their sycophantic entourages.  

“Not it!” Kiyomi called out, thrusting her hand into the air.  The rest of the volunteers quickly followed, tossing their hands into the air to opt out.  You had been halfway across the room, carrying a large box of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that prevented you from raising your hand.  

“Real mature tactic there, everyone,” you snapped irritably as you set the box down and made your way to the door.  

“Have fun!” Kiyomi said cheerily as she waved.  You stuck your middle finger up in return and made your way up the hall to the dining room. 

The scene you arrived at was chaotic.  

Your Program Director, a usually sweet and accommodating woman, was red in the face and absolutely screaming at a sharply dressed man in an ash gray suit.  Mt. Lady and Uwabami were seated as far from each other as physically possible in the moderate sized room, shooting icy glares at each other while their makeup teams toiled to get them camera ready.  The tables in the dining room were already half full despite it being a couple of hours before you were set to open; the seats occupied by people in ill-fitting clothes with dirt smeared artfully across their faces while they passed the time tapping on the screens of expensive, top of the line phones.  You hurry to your Director’s side, making excuses to the man in the suit and guiding her away from the altercation with a firm hand on her elbow.  

Her eyes begin to water as her adrenaline crashes, and you grab a handful of scratchy napkins from a dispenser for her to dry her face with as she sobs. 

“What’s going on here,” you ask gently, rubbing soothing circles on her bicep.  

“Mt. Lady was worried about how the PR photos would turn out so she decided to hire some extras to pose for pictures with her,” she sniffed, dabbing at her face with shaking fists.  

“ Some extras?  We’re already at half capacity with all these people here!”

“I know .”

“And she’s just going to give away food to people she’s paying who can already afford to eat?  While actually hungry people line up outside?”

The Director nodded miserably while you scrubbed a hand down your face, furious.  

“I fucking hate Hero Day.”    

There wasn’t a force on Earth that would force Tomura into the soup kitchen on the day when it would be swarming with Heroes and their worshippers, but his stomach was still making a strong case for itself despite his iron-clad will.  Being able to obtain regular meals made missing one even harder because the gnawing hunger tearing through his gut was an unfamiliar pain that demanded his full attention.  One hand held a nearly empty can of coffee, all he could afford with change he found on the ground today, while his other hand was buried deep in his coat pocket, systematically bending each of Father’s fingers into a fist before carefully straightening them out again and setting about to bend them once more.

He continued fiddling with his macabre fidget toy as he watched tiny snowflakes drift past the covered bus stop he was currently tucked away in; the plexiglass walls doing nothing to trap in heat but they did stop the blustery wind from chilling him down to the bone.  A soft knock next to his head drew his attention away from the falling flurries as he quickly spun to investigate the sound; finding you standing outside of the bus shelter, waving gently.  

Snowflakes had settled onto your eyelashes and they glittered fetchingly under the sickly yellow glow from the streetlight overhead.

"Mind if I join?" Your voice was muffled and distant through the plexiglass, but Tomura heard you clearly enough.  He nodded his assent and you beamed at him, quickly jogging to the entrance while pulling a large shopping trolley behind you.  

"Brr!" You exclaim as you settle next to him, closer than he should have allowed but still not as close as he wanted.  The trolley was situated in front of you both, and your thigh ended up brushing against Tomura's when you leaned forward to root through it.  He inhaled sharply at the innocent contact, his skin tingling with something other than chills where you pressed up against him.  

"Are you hungry?  I've been making the rounds with sandwiches and fruit and have some leftovers.  I've got ham and swiss or turkey and cheddar."

"Whatever's fine," Tomura said as you passed him a sandwich and an oblong apple that he immediately pulled down his mask to take a bite of.  It was mealy and so cold it caused his teeth to ache, but he polished it off in record time and dropped the remaining core into the plastic bag he extracted the sandwich from.    

He examined you from under his lashes, tugging down his hood to obscure his face as you did a quick tally of the remaining supplies in your trolley.  

"You're not at the soup kitchen today?"

"Nope.  Not my usual shift anyway.  I go in and help prep for the Hero Day visits, but me and the other volunteers leave early when the camera crews roll in.  We split up and pass out food on the streets instead."

"Didn't want to stick around for some autographs?"

"Hardly," you snorted inelegantly, tugging your gloves further down onto your fingers.  "We can't pass up on the donations the Hero Agencies offer up, but I refuse to participate in their meaningless virtue signaling.  If they actually wanted to help out they would just volunteer normally like the rest of us," you sniff in irritation, grinding a scratched off lottery ticket under the heel of your boot.  

"But instead they roll in with a cavalcade of reporters, serve up a couple of meals, and then wait for people on social media to tell them how thoughtful and good they are for putting on a show.  It's like a fireman showing up to a house fire, spitting on the flames, and then having people applaud them while the house is still burning."

"Like, Heroes have the money and the influence to actually help people, to really make a difference.  But instead they just waste their resources on meaningless stuff and- ugh, I don't know.  I guess I'm just frustrated because I can't imagine a scenario where I would prioritize acquiring fake internet points over providing a living, breathing person with a meal."

Sighing in frustration, you cross your arms and lean against the wall, your head tilted back to observe the falling snow like Tomura had been doing when you arrived.  

"Think we'd be better off without them?" Tomura asked, peeling off a section of bread crust and popped it into his mouth.

"Hmm?  Without who?"

"Heroes.  Do you think they're necessary?"

You're quiet for a moment, thoughtful.  Obviously weighing your words carefully before replying.   

"It's hard to say, I suppose,” you begin hesitantly. “This is the way the world's been the entire time I've been alive; so I don't have anything to really compare it to.  But I believe that things could be- should be , better than they are now.  I want there to be change, but I don't know what the best course of action for that sort of thing would be."

Tomura hummed, a sound of acknowledgement if not agreement, as he finished off his sandwich and pulled his mask back into place.  His meager disguise once again in place, Tomura leaned his head back and joined you in watching the snow flutter to the ground.  The small flurries had all but disappeared and were replaced by fat, puffy flakes; dramatic bits of fluff that stayed airborne for longer than seemed possible before they settled delicately onto the ground.

"I really love night time snow.  It's so romantic, don't you think?" 

"Can't say I've ever given it much thought," Tomura said, attempting to keep his voice level and casual and you slowly and cautiously slid towards him on the bench, the distance between you narrowing at a glacial pace that had Tomura nearly writhing in anticipation.  You came to a stop achingly close to Tomura, the remaining gap an open invitation for him to reach out, to touch, to accept whatever beautiful and intangible thing you were offering up to him.  

If Tomura were a good man, someone with a noble heart or a modicum of self-restraint, he would have tried to resist the temptation echoing in that sliver of space between you.  But he was, at his core, selfish and greedy; traits that had only been compounded by the past few months of hardship.  With so few things to his name, what he did possess became infinitely more precious and jealously guarded.  And here you were, entirely of your own volition, offering to become one of his rare possessions; to lay down willingly in his hoard- a priceless jewel amongst common trinkets for him to admire.          

The back of Tomura’s hand made contact with you first, gently skirting up the outside of your thigh.  You gasp, a sudden, breathy sound that sends a large cloud of condensation exploding into the air in front of your face as his hand continues its journey up the side of your body.  When his hand reaches your shoulder he carefully extends two fingers and sends them walking over your shoulders, a measured, unhurried march as they make their way across your back.  Once his arm is fully behind you he extends his thumb and wraps your bicep in a three fingered grip and pulls you towards him, the distance between your bodies erased as the grooves and divots of your bodies mold and settle into one and other.  

“Oh, Tenko,” you breathe, nuzzling into the cradle of his shoulder.  “Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Of course,” Tomura says as he runs an index finger across the swell of your cheek, smirking as you lean into his touch.  “I’m not planning to let you go.”     

Tenko had slid in through the soup kitchen doors a few minutes prior and you couldn't help the feeling of exhilaration that roiled in your belly and bubbled up your sternum as he drew closer to you in line.  The shift in your relationship was a recent and exciting novelty.  Every interaction was littered with relationship firsts; delicate threads of moments that would weave into precious memories you bundled your heart into to keep it warm in Tenko's absence.  

He was next in line, paused before Kiyomi as she placed a nearly expired rice ball donated from a local convenience store on his plate.

"You sure you want onigiri tonight?" Kiyomi asked, grinning fiendishly at Tenko as she added a couple of pickled plums next to the rice ball.

"Are there any other options?" 

"Well, you do have the option of this hot dish right here!" Kiyomi cackles as she elbows you roughly in the side, sending you stumbling out of place.  You grumble, rubbing at the impact point with your forearm so you wouldn't have to change your gloves.  

"I hope that you aren't offering her up to everyone in line," Tenko warned, his gaze steely as he narrowed his eyes at Kiyomi.  She swallowed thickly, shaking her head rapidly from side to side.

"No!  Of course not!"

"Good," Tenko said as he reached out for the plate you were holding out to him, running two fingers softly across the exposed band of skin above your glove, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.  

"I've never been one for sharing."

Ever since that night at the bus stop Tenko had been staying late with you at the soup kitchen, awkwardly holding a mop in a pincer grip as he unenthusiastically pushed it around the edges of the room while you and the other volunteers closed up shop.  Once the doors were locked and you’d waved good-bye to your fellow workers, you and Tenko would set out into the city together.  On days when you had a lot of homework or a looming exam he would escort you to the train station, both of you shortening your gaits to draw out the precious few minutes of time you could spend together.  But when your schedule was more flexible you would wander around aimlessly; examining the garish holiday displays set up in store windows or settling on a park bench for extended bouts of people watching.    

Today found you both wandering through a pop-up market, weaving through crowds of harried shoppers and visibly distressed men trying to point their girlfriends and wives to vendors hawking less expensive potential Christmas gifts.  You were comparing the prints of a few different scarves when you noticed the first flurry drift through your line of sight.  With an excited squeal, you turned to find Tenko, sliding your arms around his waist and bouncing happily on the balls of your feet.

“It’s starting to snow again!”

“So it is,” Tenko said, a smile present in the timbre of voice.  Tilting your head back to gaze up into the inky sky, you sighed happily as the tiny flakes multiplied and spun around in dizzying patterns above you.    

“You weren’t kidding when you said you liked snowy nights,” Tenko said, observing your dreamy smile with soft eyes.  

“Yeah.  It’s as close as us city dwellers can really get to seeing a sky full of stars.  When I was a kid I would pretend that all the snowflakes in the sky were shooting stars, each of them racing as fast as they could to grant my wishes,” you admit bashfully, slightly embarrassed by your past whimsey.  

Tenko hummed thoughtfully as he gazed at the icy flakes darting through the sky.  

“They’re going to need to go faster than that if they want to beat me,” he said, dropping his head down to nuzzle into your neck.  “Because there isn’t anything in this universe that wants to grant your wishes more than I do.”  

“Is that so?” you giggle as Tenko buries his face under your coat collar, his chilly cheeks and warm puffs of air making your skin break out into delighted tingles.  

“Yes ,” Tenko sighed against your skin, mask bunched up over his nose as he layered kisses across your collarbone. 

“Well, that���s pretty convenient since all I find myself wishing for these days is you.”

“You should wish for something better.”

“I don’t think there is anything better,” you say as you comb your fingers through the loose strands of hair falling across Tenko’s forehead.  “Not for me, anyway.”  

Tenko’s arms tightened around your waist to an almost painful degree, like he was trying to pull you through his layers of flesh and sinew and into his chest; tucking you tightly into the space beside his heart, caged safely behind his ribs.  

And you were happy to let him try. 

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigiraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura x y/n #tomura x reader #tomura x you #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x female reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x self insert #pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

Hot Dish, Chapter 3: Save Room for Dessert

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Sexual content, Exhibitionism, Chikan, Heavy Petting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Safe Sex, Consentual Sex, Swearing, Romance, Soft Shigaraki, Posessive Shigaraki, Domestic fluff, Mutual Pining

---

Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal.

Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date.

--- "You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Tomura glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Whatever."

"Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk."

--- A slow, domestic romance between a volunteer at a soup kitchen and the newly destitute leader of a notorious villain organization.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

The doors of the soup kitchen were shut for the night, the last of the patrons filtering into the room.  You scanned the faces of everyone lining up, a tiny spark of hope still burning in your chest, yearning for Tenko to be among them.  

He wasn’t.  

And at this point you didn’t know why you were still hoping for him to appear.  It had been months since you’d last seen or spoken to Tenko; he’d disappeared entirely from his usual haunts and all your texts and calls were left unanswered.  The last time you’d seen him he’d mentioned that an associate of his had gone missing and he was planning on leaving town to investigate.  It was obvious from his reluctance to share major details of his life with you that he was tangled up in some illicit activities, so it was easy for your brain to conjure up a countless number of terrible fates that could have befallen him.  

Maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere with a bullet hole in the back of his head.  Or hauled off to wherever his associate had been dragged to, never to be heard from again.  He could be in jail.  Or on the run.  

Or maybe he just didn’t want to see you again.  

It felt selfish to admit that thought hurt the most; that you were more upset at the idea of him ghosting you than you were of him actually being a ghost.  But you were.  The idea that he could willingly walk away from your burgeoning relationship without so much as a break up text really stung, especially since you had both been so serious about each other.  

Your conversations had been filled with thoughts and plans for what a future together might look like; finishing college, finding a place together, what sort of appliances you wanted for your imaginary kitchen, and how chores would be divided.  Tenko apparently hated folding clothes as much as he hated wearing them and was willing to trade just about any other job to get out of laundry duty.  All those fanciful plans had been lovingly stacked up to make a foundation that had been toppled over night; and you now stood amongst their ruins, wondering what you could possibly do with a pile of broken dreams.    

As much as you mourned the tentative future you had daydreamed about, you missed Tenko's presence all the more.  You missed his touch, his sweet words, the pure adoration in his gaze, and the long talks you'd share as you walked aimlessly about the city.  Being with him was so easy, so utterly effortless, that life without him seemed unbearably difficult.  

You'd experienced heartbreak before, but none of those previous experiences had prepared you for the all-encompassing sorrow that filled in the cracks in your heart Tenko left behind.  But you couldn't wallow in misery forever.  Your final semester of college was already well underway, and you refused to falter now with your degree so close at hand.  So you pushed all your sadness and hurt down as deep as you could and threw yourself into your studies, turning in papers double the minimum required length and crashing on the floor in your friends rooms after marathon study sessions so you wouldn't have to face sleeping alone in the bed that you and Tenko had shared.  

During the first couple of weeks Tenko had been gone you’d picked up extra shifts at the soup kitchen, hoping to increase your chances of running into him once he got back into town.  But eventually you’d been forced to drop back down to your normal shift schedule because the constant anxiety you felt waiting for him to walk through the door was wreaking havoc on your mental well-being.  Even just being in the serving line, your favorite position to work, was causing you so much agitation that you’d asked to move into the back of the house to help with food preparation and clean-up instead.  

But today one of the volunteers had called out and you’d been pulled from your back room sanctuary to once again take up your post dishing out dinner next to Kiyomi.  Despite all the feelings of despair being back in the serving line stirred up, it was nice to have the opportunity to spend time with your friend again.  

“I’m sorry he wasn’t here tonight, Sweetie,” Kiyomi said earnestly, scooping up a spoonful of peas for the last tray of the night.  

“I wasn’t expecting anything different,” you sighed dejectedly, gazing out over the sea of heads belonging to tonight’s dinner crowd.  

“Yeah, but it still sucks all the same.”  

“It does,” you acknowledge quietly, pinching the inside of your elbow to keep from crying.  “It really does.”  

I’m sorry if these texts are bothering you.  

But it makes me feel better to send them.  So you know that I’m thinking of you.  

I’m just so worried that something might have happened to you.  

So even if you’re totally okay and just- not coming back, could you let me know that you’re okay?  Just send me a quick text back.   

Or one of those awful dog memes you love.  

Never thought I would miss those dog memes, but here I am!  

What have you done to me?  

Even if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I still want you to be alright. 

I care about you.  

Text me if you get this. 

I miss you.  

I wonder if, wherever you, you’re missing me too.  

I hope so.  

Is that selfish of me?  It probably is.   

Ojljflasdkjlllllllhasodhf

Sorry!  That was a butt text.  

I’m graduating soon.  

My family can’t make it.  

I’ll leave you a ticket at will-call.

I hope you can come.

Seeing you again would be the best gift in the world.     

It’s a really nice night out.  

It would have been great to go on a walk with you. 

Even though your legs are too long and I always have to rush to keep up.  

I’m packing up stuff in my dorm room and like, there’s just so much dust somehow?  

Just big, huge piles of it every couple of feet.  

It’s so weird.  

Well, I’m a graduate now. 

I thought I would feel different somehow?  Older?  More adult?  

But I’m just sad.  

I moved back in with my parents last week while most of my friends are moving away for their jobs.  I feel like I’m getting left behind.  

Again.  

I hate feeling like this.

I know it’s just temporary, but I feel like an absolute failure.  

Ugh.  

Do me a favor and delete these messages if you get them.  I can’t stand how whiney I am today.  

I guess I should probably send out some resumes soon.  

I don’t want to move though.  I have so many memories here.  

But I guess the good thing about memories is that you take them with you, no matter where you go.  

Maybe it would be good to get away.  

To start fresh somewhere. 

Oh god. 

I think my parents are having sex.  

I can hear them through the walls.  

Definitely sending out resumes tonight- I have to get out of this house.   

OH GOD

AFTER I FIND MY HEADPHONES

what to mix w vodka

how tostop being sad after a breakup

dose orang juice stain??

Sorry for all the late texts last night.  

Drunk me thought this was a search engine.  

I hope I didn’t bother you.  

I still miss you.  

Moving home had been the obvious choice considering you were currently unemployed and your student housing agreement expired the moment you walked across the stage and accepted your diploma.  Your roommate had ended up failing her final semester and you had a nagging suspicion she did it intentionally to push back having to sort through all of her accumulated junk for another year.  

It was humbling, hauling boxes back into the tiny room that you had proudly marched out of four years before, convinced that you were on the fast track to adulthood.  But here you stood again, years later, trying to come to terms with the fact that your road to success was less like the Autobahn and more like a go-kart circuit; slower than you wanted and constantly looping you back to the starting line.    

Determined to make this part of your life as temporary as possible, you’d spent countless agonizing hours entering information into online forms and attaching resumes (containing the exact information you had just typed in) to every job opening you could find, with only a handful of interviews and no call-backs to show for it.  The constant feeling of rejection was getting more difficult to bear as the weeks crawled on, especially when you’d scroll through your social media dashboards and see your friends posting selfies modeling their professional wardrobes or tagging their new coworkers in group shots from a bar after they’d clocked out for the day.  

They looked so cute in their little blazers and pencil skirts and you hadn’t even bothered to change out of pajamas today.  Or yesterday.  They were, in fact, the same pair of pajamas you’d been wearing all week.    

With a sigh, you went to like the most recent posts from one of your old high school friends who had just landed a prestigious internship when the app was overtaken by an incoming call screen.  

Not recognizing the number, you hesitantly hit the accept button and lifted the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” you answer hesitantly, fully expecting a recording to play about possibly extending your non-existent car’s warranty.  

“Hello!” A chipper voice answers back.  “Do you have some time to talk today?  Your resume came across my desk and I have to say that I’m very interested in getting you in for an interview!”  

“You are-?  I mean, of course!  Yes!  I would love that!” you stammer, diving for the backpack collecting dust at the end of your bed and pulling out a pen and notepad.  “Just give me a time and I’ll be there!”  

In retrospect, you probably should have asked more questions about the company before blindly agreeing to travel there in person.  Like where they were located, for example. 

But you didn’t.  

So early this morning you’d gotten up, put on your most professionally coded outfit and cutest shoes, and then promptly had a small heart attack when you pulled up the address in the confirmation e-mail and realized it was in the center of Deika City.  

Deika City, which was still recovering from some sort of catastrophic event that had destroyed a fair chunk of the town.  No wonder the recruiter had acted so impressed with your resume, they probably had a ton of staff vacancies and were scrambling to fill them.  You were nothing if not desperate to move out of your parent’s house though.  So after an anxious walk to the train station, where you did your best to shake off your nerves; you scanned your train card, found the right platform, and took your first steps towards potential employment and away from the paper thin walls of your childhood home.  

Hopefully.  

The reconstruction of Deika City had progressed at a staggeringly fast pace.  You’d expected there to be more widespread destitution, but apparently the News stations had been using significantly outdated footage for shock value because everything looked eerily normal for a town that almost stopped existing a few months ago.  Kids waited on street corners for the crosswalk to change, a florist busied himself refreshing the water his outdoor bouquets sat in, and the headquarters of Detnerat, your potential employer, loomed high over the city like a nail someone forgot to hammer down.  

You’d checked your face over with your front facing camera before silencing your phone and striding through the building door with all the confidence you could muster.  No one stopped to stare at you, so it seemed like you were doing a pretty good job of blending in so far.  The receptionist was on the phone when you approached her desk, waiting anxiously for her to end her call.  

“Thank you for your patience,” she said as she dropped the receiver into the cradle and swiveled her chair around to face you.  “Welcome to Detnerat, how may I assist you today?”

“I have an interview scheduled for eleven this morning?,” you explain, clearing your throat nervously at the end.  

“Let me just check the schedule and get you checked in,” she droned politely, fingers flying across her keyboard as a testament to her experience.  You had turned away to look at the large fountain burbling peacefully in the middle of the foyer when the receptionist shot out of her chair with a sharp intake of breath.  

“Oh my goodness!  I am so sorry!” she said while frantically bowing as she rounded the corner of the desk.  “I didn’t realize you were a VIP guest!  I have been remiss in my treatment of you!”

She looped a lanyard with a temporary ID card around your neck before pushing a large gift bag into your hands while motioning you towards the elevator doors, which opened automatically as you approached them.      

“The elevator will automatically scan and detect the security authorizations pre-programmed into the ID card around your neck and deliver you to the proper floor,” the receptionist explained as you stepped into the open car.  “I apologize again for my oversight and lack of professionalism.  I hope your interview goes well!” She called out as the doors closed, leaving you alone in the elevator.  The soft notes of a classical song started playing in an attempt to drown out the whirring of machinery as the elevator lurched into motion. 

You stared down at the card dangling around your neck as you adjusted your hold on the gift bag in your arms.  

“What the fuck is going on here?” you mutter in confusion as the elevator chimes for each floor you pass.  You’re already more than halfway up the building and have a feeling that you won’t be stopping until you reach the top floor.  

Your suspicions had been slightly off.  The elevator hadn’t stopped at the top floor.  It had continued on past the maximum number of floors indicated by the illuminated buttons on the control panel, letting you off on some super secret unmarked penthouse level.  You’d also discovered that you didn’t have a cell signal up here when you pulled out your phone to make sure you were arriving on time, so you were fairly certain now that this was the start of the true crime documentary about your tragic disappearance and murder.  

Hopefully they’d interview Kiyomi after they fished your headless corpse out of the channel.  She would say flattering things about you and probably add some nice embellished bits to make you look extra sympathetic to the audience.   

Hesitantly, you stepped out of the elevator and made your way down the hallway you’d been deposited into, drawing closer to the massive double doors looming at the end.  All too soon you were at the end of the hallway, hand poised to knock, when the doors slowly began to swing open, a silent invitation to enter.  If you were going to be murdered tonight you were going to put up one helluva fight so the girl they cast to play you would really have a chance to flex her acting chops.  

“Hello?” You called, stepping further into the room, the plush carpet practically melting under your feet.  With tentative steps, you made your way towards the large desk poised in the middle of the room.  A high-back office chair was situated behind it, turned away from you and rocking restlessly back and forth   “I’m here for an interview?”  

“No, you’re not,” a familiar voice called out.  “An interview implies that there is a possibility that you won’t get whatever position you’re applying for.  Just name what sort of job you want and it’s yours.”  The chair quickly spun around, revealing the man who had haunted your thoughts for the past few months.  

“Tenko, ” you choked, lungs seizing as your chest clogged up with a sudden deluge of emotions. 

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he murmured, spreading his arms wide.  “Did you miss me?”  

The gift bag in your arms dropped to the ground as your hands flew up to cover your mouth, which had fallen open in shock at Tenko's dramatic reappearance.  

Brow pinching in confusion, Tenko's arms dropped back down to his lap as you remained rooted to the spot, simply staring at him with wide-eyed disbelief.  

“What’s the matter?” He asks gruffly, obviously growing uncomfortable under your unwavering gaze.  “Not happy to see me?”

“I- I thought you were dead!” you screech, and with your exclamation the emotional dam you’d been shoring up over Tenko’s absence came crumbling down.  Tears poured down your cheeks as you wailed, your chest heaving with sobs of relief.  “ I was- I was so worried about you!”  

Tenko began gliding across the room to you the moment your tears started falling, reaching your side quickly as he pulled you into his embrace, your head tucked in under his chin as he shushed you gently.  

“Hey now, it’s alright.  I’m alright.  There’s nothing to cry about.” 

“ There’s plenty to cry about!  You left me alone for months and I didn’t know if you were safe or if you were just breaking up with me-” 

“I would never break up with you,” Tenko quickly assures you, rubbing soothing circles across your shoulders as your weeping slowed down into gasping hiccups.  

“What else was I supposed to think when I literally couldn’t get a hold of my boyfriend for months?  You didn’t return any of my calls or texts-”

“Ah, yeah,” Tenko grimaced.  “I was out in the woods for a while.  No cell reception.”

“You were in the woods for six months?” you gape incredulously.  

“No.  Just one.”

“Why didn’t you contact me after that, then?”

“I broke my phone while fighting a giant,” Tenko states.

The silence in the room was heavy as you peeled yourself out of Tenko’s embrace, leaning back to level him with a disbelieving glare.  

“A giant…broke your phone?”

“No.  It broke while I was fighting a giant.  It fell out of my pocket and smashed on a rock.  I lost the save data for nearly every mobile game I was playing.  And your phone number.  I was pretty pissed off about that.”

You rubbed at your swollen eyes with both your fists, overwhelmed and confused by all the information Tenko was offering up to you after months of radio silence.  

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”  

“Yes.  I told you before that I don’t like lying to you.  That remains as true today as it was then.”  

With an exhausted groan you turn and make your way over to a modern style loveseat set off to the side of the desk, snagging Tenko’s wrist as you pass by.  He indulges your silent request, following your lead and settling down next to you on the small couch.  Head cradled in your palms, you sigh deeply before scrubbing your hands down your face and angling your body towards Tenko. 

“Okay.  Let’s table the part with a giant for now.  You had five months to reach out to me and you didn’t.  Why?”

Tenko drummed his fingers on his thigh nervously.  “I don’t think I can really explain that without revealing some other things about myself first.  My name.  My face.  The goals I’ve been working towards,” he swallowed nervously.  “But once I do that, there isn’t any going back.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can stand up right now and walk out of this building and back to your normal life.  Volunteering at the soup kitchen, eating lunch out with your friends, spending holidays with your family.  But once I tell you about who I really am, you’ll be considered an accessory to all of my wrongdoings; held accountable for all of my crimes.  You can cut and run right now and I won’t stop you.  But once the mask comes off I can no longer let you leave, ” Tenko explains solemnly, putting a special emphasis on the last words to encourage you to read between the lines.  

You were a smart girl.  It wasn’t hard to figure out what he meant.  If you stayed here, stayed with him, that was it.  You’d be at his side or in the ground.  

“I’ve been choosing you, over and over again, for nearly a year.  There’s nothing you could tell me at this point that would steer me from my course- away from you,” you assured him, resting your hand on his thigh comfortingly. 

“We’ll see about that,” Tenko snorts incredulously as he lifts a hand to his hover above his familiar facemask.  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?  This is your last chance to back out.”  

“I’m sure,” you nod emphatically.

“Alright then.  You asked for it.”

And with those words, Tenko touched his fingers down onto his facemask, which quickly began to crumble away and dissolve into ash.  Left in its place was the hauntingly familiar face of one of the most wanted men in Japan: Shigaraki Tomura.  

“Oh, thank God,” you whispered in relief, sinking down into the back of the couch.  “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me you were Shigaraki for nearly a year now.”

“Wait, you knew ?” Tomura shouted, thoroughly shocked by your nonchalance.   

“I mean, yeah?  I'm pretty sure the entire soup kitchen knows at this point.  You were pretty damn terrible about blending in- it’s hard to hide when you’re so handsome,” you say as you pat his cheek appreciatively.  

“Why didn’t you say anything?  I’ve been agonizing about revealing my identity to you since our first date!”

“It seemed like you weren’t ready for me to know, so I just decided to wait until you were ready.”  

"Is that why you never asked me to take off my mask?  Because you already knew what I looked like?"

"At first I thought you had a jaw mutation you were sensitive about or something.  But then once I realized you were like, the most wanted man in the country, I felt like you keeping it on as much as possible was probably a smart call."

Tomura threaded his hands through his hair and fell back into the cushions of the couch, laughing deliriously as you snuggled into his side, resting your head against his.  

“What a pair we make,” he grinned.  

“Yeah,” you smiled in return, threading your fingers carefully through his.  “A pretty great pair, if you ask me.”  

"I can't believe you did this," you squeal in excitement, practically bouncing in your seat in the empty auditorium.  

"Why not?  I'm a good boyfriend," Tomura scoffed.  

"You let me think you were dead for half a year," you remind him dryly, wiggling your shoulders to sink down further into the theater seat.

"I can't believe you're still going on about that.  I apologized- "

"You told me, and I quote, 'My bad.'"

"Right, I apologized."

"You're impossible!" You groan, bumping your knees roughly into Tomura's in retribution.

"Fine!" Tomura grumbled, throwing his hands up in defeat.  "I promise to call you the next time I'm busy establishing a criminal empire." 

"That's all I ask, Dear," you smiled sweetly, patting Tomura's thigh placatingly.  His retort was cut off by the sudden dimming of the lights and a grand swelling of wind-instrument heavy classical music filling the auditorium.  You both leaned back in your seats, the chairs reclining easily, as the remaining light was finally snuffed out; blanketing the room in a thick darkness.  

Suddenly, the planetarium projector whirled to life, scattering stars throughout the air.

You couldn't stop the gasp that falls from your lips as you watch the lights twinkle above you; clusters of constellations, colorful nebulae, and swirling galaxies all dancing into creation.  They weren't the real thing, but you were still awed and humbled by the reminder of how grand existence was and how very miniscule your part in it truly is.  

Carefully, you let your hand crawl over Tomura's, gently rotating his hand in your grasp so you could weave your fingers through his.  

"They're really something, huh?" He whispered, just as enthralled by the spectacle of the night sky as you were.  Close-ups of celestial objects filled your vision, and a breathtaking shot of the Earth rotating brought a distant memory to the forefront of your mind.  

"You told me once that you wanted to give me the world.  Do you remember that?"

"Of course I remember.  I was touching your boob."

"Tomura!" You bark out, laughing as you drop your head to the side to knock roughly into his.  Tomura turns his head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss onto the tender patch of skin below your ear.

"What?  Your breasts are always noteworthy.  But yes, I remember.   And that offer still stands."

"I was just thinking that you've already fulfilled that promise."

"Oh?  Because I gave you the universe ," Tomura said, emphasizing his teasing by throwing his free arm wide and wiggling his fingers towards the light-dappled planetarium ceiling.  

"No," you giggled, burrowing your face down deeper into his shoulder into his neck.  "Because you've become my world."

"Oh," he whispered, swallowing thickly.  “I- I didn’t think lines like that worked outside of dating sims.”   

“And how’s your affection meter right now?” you giggled, nibbling on his earlobe playfully.  

“Maxed out,” he pants, squeezing your hand tightly as your tongue traced the shell of his ear.  

“Really?  I should be triggering a special event soon then, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely ,” Tomura grinned, sliding out of his chair and onto the theater floor.  Worming his way between your legs, he grasps your knees with his pinkies up and spreads them as far as they would go, your thighs bumping into the arm rests of your chair.  With a devious smirk, Tomura flips your skirt up over your belly and grabs the swath of fabric covering your crotch and pulls it away from your body; closing his fist fully and gleefully watching your panties disintegrate in his grasp.

“Lay back down, Sweetheart,” Tomura cooed as he tugged your hips down to the edge of the seat, pressing kisses into the juncture of your thighs.  “I want you to look up into the sky because I’m going to make you see stars.” 

You groan, both at his pun and at the feeling of his tongue carefully lapping at your slit.  

“Oh- OH!  Fuck, Tomura, ” you moan, hips bouncing on the seat of your chair. 

“Again,” he orders.  “Say my name again.”

“Tomura,” you keen, winding your fingers into his hair to hold him in place as his mouth worked its magic on your interior spaces.  It didn’t take you long to finish under Tomura’s attentions; coming undone with a stuttering sigh while stars glimmered in your eyes.

And if you were to ask Tomura's opinion as he gazed at you, utterly enthralled by your rapture; he would say that he was pretty sure Heaven itself was reflected in his. 

#tomura shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x y/n #tomura x you #tomura x reader #mha x female reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha x reader #bnha x self insert #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

Hot Dish, Chapter 2: Second Helpings

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Sexual content, Exhibitionism, Chikan, Heavy Petting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Safe Sex, Consentual Sex, Swearing, Romance, Soft Shigaraki, Posessive Shigaraki, Domestic fluff, Mutual Pining

---

Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal.

Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date.

--- "You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Tomura glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Whatever."

"Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk."

--- A slow, domestic romance between a volunteer at a soup kitchen and the newly destitute leader of a notorious villain organization.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Chapter 2: Second Helpings

The front door of the library slammed shut behind you, the irritated librarian leveling you and Tenko with reprimanding glares as she engaged the deadbolt and stomped back to her desk with her nose in the air.  She had been less than impressed with your decision to push two of the boxy wooden chairs together and sit with your legs thrown over Tenko’s thighs, curled into his side as one of his hands held a book open while the other was busy drawing freeform patterns across the tops of your thighs.  Your public display of affection, while potentially a bit on the tawdry side, wasn’t breaking any of the library regulations that would result in your expulsion.  Unable to throw you out, she had soothed her bristled sensibilities by raising her eyebrows in warning whenever you turned a page too loudly and repeatedly bumping into your table with her book cart as she reshelved books in your area.          

“She was a real peach, wasn’t she?” You grumbled as you linked arms with Tenko, drawing your body as close to his as you could without tripping over each other's legs as you made your way to the sidewalk.  

Tenko snorted, his hand fiddling with something tucked down deeply into his coat pocket.  

“I don’t like people like that.”

“Like what?”

“Haughty.  Judgemental.”

You hum in agreement.  “Yeah.  It’s hard to deal with people that think they’re better than everyone else.”

“Doesn’t it make you angry?  Being looked at like that?”

“Not particularly," you shrug.  

“I hated it- how she looked at you,” Tenko spat angrily as you rubbed a comforting hand over his bicep.    

“She was looking at you the same way, Tenko.”

“I know, but I’m used to it.  You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Stopping suddenly, you pull on Tenko’s arm until he turns to face you.  Your arms slide up his chest, hands coming to rest on both sides of his face as you gently trace your fingers over the outer edges of his ears.  

“You don’t deserve it either, Tenko.  No one does.”

There was something intense and unidentifiable simmering in his eyes as he gazed at you; his index fingers hooking through your belt loops and using them to pull your body flush with his.

"Close your eyes," Tenko ordered.  You were quick to oblige him, eyes snapping shut the moment he finished issuing his gentle command.  The crinkling sound of his mask being removed sent your heart racing.  Tenko thankfully, blessedly, didn't leave you waiting long; his lips hovering over yours for only a fraction of a second before making contact.  

You didn't know what to expect from Tenko's kisses since you hadn't yet been granted the opportunity to see the lower half of his face.  The dry, scratchy skin on his lips was a bit of a surprise, but not a completely unexpected one since you had seen fleeting glimpses of cracked and bleeding skin peeking out from around his coat collar.  So while the texture would likely take a little getting used to, your toes still curled in your boots from the euphoric rush of endorphins his lips set off within you as the moment you had been fantasizing about for months stepped over the border of your imagination and crossed into reality.      

Parting your lips slightly, you suck Tenko's bottom lip between yours; running your tongue soothingly across each deep crack as you encounter them.  He was motionless under your hands as you continued your ministrations, switching over to the top lip when you had finished laving at the wounds on the bottom one; pressing gentle kisses over each fissure when you had finished.  With a whimper he did his best to mask under the guise of a cough, Tenko pressed his forehead into yours as his shaking fingers crossed over your abraded lips; his icy fingers soothing the irritation his mouth had left behind.  

“I hurt you.”

“No.  I just took a little bit of your pain for myself.”

Chapped lips pressed against your temple as Tenko sighed.  “You shouldn’t have to bear my burdens.”

“But I want to, just the same.”

Tenko peppered fluttering kisses across your cheek and down your nose before his lips descended onto yours again.  

“One day,” he said in between gentle nibbles. “You’re going to find out what sort of man I really am.”

“I can’t wait,” you said after an enthusiastic brush of your tongue against his. “I’ll give him kisses, too.”

It was raining when you and Tenko left the soup kitchen; hard, icy drops that stung when they hit exposed patches of skin.  The two of you darted quickly to the subway station, pant legs soaked from the splashes of innumerable puddles you had dashed through.  Bank account full from the recent round of New Year’s money that arrived stuffed into holiday cards, you loaded up two fare cards and shoved one into Tenko's hand as you made your way through the automated turnstiles.  Your teeth were chattering by the time the train arrived and you and Tenko audibly sighed in relief when the doors opened and engulfed you in a wave of heat escaping from the train car.  

Rushing on board as the doors chimed in warning, Tenko looked about the empty car with a devious gleam in his eye.  With an unbelievable swiftness, Tenko's arms locked around your waist as he pulled you towards the back of the train car.

"Tenko!" You yelped as he pressed you into the corner, your arms bracing against a station map as his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants, slowly untucking your shirt as he went.  Actual privacy was a rare luxury for you both, so you couldn't fault Tenko for jumping on the opportunity the empty train provided.  

"Shhh, quiet now.  You don't want the people in the next car to hear, do you?"  He whispered into your ear, his facemask muffling the words so they were just barely audible.  You shook your head, whimpering as his fingers pried your wet shirt away from your skin, creeping up your sides and tracing along the bottom edge of your bra teasingly.

"But you do want me to give you something to make noise about, right?"

"Yes, Tenko!  Please," you begged softly.

"As you wish," Tenko cooed as he hooked his fingers around the band of your bra, drawing it up over the swell of your breasts.  His hands were so careful, so reverent, as he held you; a breast in each hand with his pinkies drawn up tightly.  With a salacious moan, you pushed your body back against Tenko in order to give his hands more room to explore.  He grunted as your hips collided, one hand dropping from under your sweater to hold you in place with an unyielding four-fingered grip as he slowly rolled his hips; rutting against you with breathless gasps.  

"Oh, Sweetheart," Tenko crooned as he plucked at your nipple with aching pinches, making you bury your face into your sleeve in an attempt to muffle your moans.  "I'm going to give you the world."

"Don' want th' world-," you stumble over your words, unable to string a coherent thought together, the plexiglass under your fingers squeaking shrilly as you clawed helplessly at the train map you were pressed against. "I jus' want you."

"Then you'll have me," Tenko swore, pressing a kiss onto your heated cheek through the rough fabric of his mask, grinding his erection roughly against your core.  " All of me ."

The train rocks to a stop, the doors dinging open as you hear the distant sound of footsteps from the front of the train car.  Hissing in frustration, Tenko pulled your bra back down, part of your left breast squished oddly beneath the misaligned band.  His newly extracted hands ran up and down your sides soothingly, bracing you against him while the jelly that replaced your knees solidified into something more structurally sound.

"Guess we'll need to take a raincheck," Tenko sighed as he dropped his head onto your shoulder, watching your chest heave as you swallowed deep, gasping breaths.

"But it's already raining!" you pouted.

Tenko snorted in amusement, removing one of his hands from your side to lightly swat at your behind, causing you to yelp sharply.

"Hush now.  Good girls don't whine."

Knees liquefying once more, you collapse back against Tenko with a pitiful cry, drawing the attention of the man seated on the far end of the train.

"Best to keep your distance," Tenko called out to the man, watching you both with wide eyes.  "She's so sick she can barely stand!"

The back of his hand pressed against your heated cheek and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch with a heaving sigh.

"She's hot to the touch too, probably very contagious."

Tenko laughed as the man pulled his scarf up over his nose and mouth to act as a makeshift mask as he slid further down the bench away from you both.  

“No need to worry though,” Tenko murmured quietly as he slid his hand down from your cheek to cradle your jaw.  “I’ll get you out of here and into bed as soon as I can.  I promise.”

"Oi!  Tenko!  I have something for you!" Kiyomi called out, rushing down the sidewalk towards you both.  She fished around in her purse before pulling out a wrinkly blue envelope, shoving it into his outstretched hand.  

"What is it?" Tenko asked, his brow pinched together as he critically examined the envelope pinched between his thumb and index finger.

"It wouldn't be much of a present if I told you what it was!  Just go ahead and open it," Kiyomi teased, bouncing impatiently from foot to foot in both impatience and to ward off the evening's chill.

Tenko ran a careful finger underneath the edge of the envelope, ripping an even line across the top and extracting the card within.  The front had a large teal and purple snowflake printed on it that sloughed off glitter wherever Tenko touched it.  He wiped his glitter covered hand off on you with a disgusted grunt.

"Hey!" You screeched, leaping back and frantically pawing at the smear of sparkles that was already worming itself deep into the arm seam of your coat.  "Do you know how hard it is to get that stuff off?"

"Yeah, of course I do.  That's why I wiped it on you. "

You huff indignantly, sprinkles of glitter still sloughing off of your arm as you waved it about.  Kiyomi snorted in amusement before checking the time on her phone.

"I've gotta run to catch my bus.  But Happy New Year!  You two have fun!" She grinned, firing off a cheeky wink as she dashed across the neighboring crosswalk.  

"Oh, don't worry.  We will, " Tenko grinned as he stared down into the card.  

"Hmm?  What did Kiyomi give you?"

Tenko reached down into the card and pulled out a brand new train fare card, holding it between two fingers with a salacious gleam in his eyes.

Mortified, you buried your face into your hands.  " Oh my god.  I'm going to kill her."

"That's not a proper thank you for such a thoughtful gift," Tenko chided, amusement plainly evident in his tone. 

"Oh, hush!" You said, pointing an accusing finger at Tenko, totally unprepared for him to suddenly double over in laughter as you did so.

"What is it?  What's so funny?" 

"You- your face! It's-," Tenko gasped between laughs.  You pull out your phone and flip to the front camera, gasping as your face appears on screen, the left side covered in a nearly solid layer of shimmering glitter.

"How did this much glitter even get on me?  Did it multiply ?" You screeched while Tenko propped himself up on a streetlight, unable to stand unassisted as your indignation set off another round of uncontrollable mirth.  Distracted by laughter, Tenko failed to notice you slipping in next to him, phone set up to take a burst of photos as you pounced on him, rubbing your glitter coated cheek against his like a territorial cat.  

"You Pest! " Tenko hisses, pushing you away from him with a forearm across your throat.  You topple backwards with a surprised squawk, grabbing onto Tenko's sleeve to try to maintain your balance as you fall back into a large mound of freshly plowed snow, pulling Tenko down with you.  

"Ouch," you mutter as you rub at your scalp where your head had hit a chunk of ice embedded in the snow pile.

"You okay?" Tenko asked, his index and middle fingers gently probing the back of your skull.

"Yeah, I think so."

"It's not bleeding, but you're going to have a nasty bump.  We should get some ice on it," Tenko says as he pushes you back onto the snow pile, holding you in place with a firm hand across your clavicle.  

"What are you doing?" You yell, flailing your arms and legs as you try your best to escape from Tenko's hold.

"Icing your head, obviously."

"This is the same ice that hurt me!"

"Yes, and now it's helping you.  Let it have its redemption arc," Tenko explained as he pried your phone from your fingers, moving it about until you were both in frame.

"Say 'cheese'!" 

"Cheese," you sighed, throwing up a peace sign as the flash went off.

"Oh, that's a good one," Tenko grinned as he examined the camera roll.  "I think I found my new background.  Can you text this to me?"

"I'd rather die."

"Fine, I'll send it myself then," Tenko said as he deftly punched in his number before carelessly tossing your phone down onto your belly, causing you to scramble to catch it before it bounced off of you and onto the ground.  

"What do you think?" Tenko asked as he flipped the phone around to reveal the photo of you, unamused and glittering atop your snowy throne, accompanied by a sticker of a penguin wearing sunglasses with the text 'Just Chilling' across its belly.  

"That's pretty good, I guess," you reply distractedly as you quickly tap away at your phone before grinning widely.  "But mine's better!"

You proudly hold your phone up, showing Tenko your new background that featured you both pressed cheek-to-cheek, Tenko's eyes widened with surprise while a plume of glitter exploded out from between your smushed faces.  A banner reading 'Keep Calm & Sparkle On!' ran across the top of the picture, bordered by tiny twinkling stars.  

"Delete that," Tenko growled as you giggled, cradling your chest protectively as he tried to pry it from your grasp.

"No!" You yelled, clumsily dodging his attempts to grab your phone.  Desperate to keep your new wallpaper safe, you quickly pull down the collar of your jacket and shove your phone down your shirt, yelping as the chilly plastic of your phone case settles against your skin.  

"Really? Down your shirt?  That's not as big a deterrent as you think it is," Tenko chuckled, his eyes crinkling in delight as he pushed his hands up under your shirt, his icy fingers pressing into your belly as you squealed.  

"TENKO!"

"Yes?" 

"I give up!" You cry out as you frantically scramble to pull the phone from out of your bra cup and toss it in his general direction.  "Now get your hands out of my shirt!"

"Pass," he responds instantly, pinching playfully at your sides.  "I don't want the phone anymore.  I found something better to play with," he grinned as you twisted under his probing fingers, slowly acclimating to his freezing touch.  You gasp as his fingers trace across the scalloped edge of your bra cup, a gentle caress that has you pressing up into his hand, demanding his attention.  

“Such a needy thing,” he whispers, pleased by your response to his touch.  “I would touch you all night if I could.  Would you like that, Sweetheart?”

“Yes.” 

“Say it.  Say that you want me to touch you,” Tenko demanded, a desperate and wild look in his eye as his fingertips pressed down into the soft skin of your breasts.

“Touch me, please!  Please, please, please ,” You begged, placing your hands over his, the layers of clothes separating your hands as you pressed down, forcing his finger tips deeper into the pliant flesh.  “I love it when you touch me.”  

“You do ,” he breathed in amazement. “You really do.”  

The two of you pause for a beat, absorbed in the moment before Tenko sighs, pressing a masked kiss to your temple as he stands, grasping your wrists with his thumbs and forefingers as helps pull you up beside him.    

“Why did you stop?  Did I say something wrong?” You ask, confused by the sudden shift in activities.  Tenko shakes his head as wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you down the empty sidewalk.  

“No.  Not at all.  I just realized that it's very cold outside," Tenko said as his hand dropped down from your waist to slide into the back pocket of your jeans, squeezing your butt cheek firmly as he pulled you flush against his side, growling playfully into your ear. "And we have a train to catch."

Himiko was having an absolutely horrible, no good week.  The League had met up briefly a few days earlier to distribute information and resources, and to the surprise of no one there was little to be had of either.  Twice and Spinner had managed to fence a couple of car radios and had split the money up evenly among all the League members who had shown up.  

Normally, the handful of cash would have been enough to get Himiko through the week, but her period had come early and the broken vending machine she had been stealing pads from had finally been repaired so she had no choice but to actually buy sanitary products this month.  Which was totally and completely unfair because they were so stupid expensive and ate through nearly all of her food budget.  Himiko wouldn't mind so much if the blood was fresh and bright, but it wasn't.  It was old and clotted, mixed with tissue and mucus; a vile stew of bodily secretions mixed together by her traitorous body.

And to top it all off, the guy she had been flirting with at the supermarket had gotten fired so she couldn’t rely on him to sneak her sandwiches bound for the trash in exchange for a quick make out session anymore.  Which, honestly, was sort of a mixed blessing.  She'd miss the food but he was a terrible kisser- everything was always too wet and it was obvious that brushing his teeth was more of a casual passtime than something he made a habit of.    

So here she was, bleeding, cramping, tired, hungry, and cold without the ability to solve any of those problems and she felt something ugly bubble up inside of her as she stalked the convenience store aisles, her fingers clawing at the hanging price tags with her sharply filed nails.  It just wasn't fair that the world could just cast her to the side like this; to let her hunger, let her suffer, let her ache, let her want.

And for what?  Because they didn't understand her Quirk?  Because they didn't understand the beautiful vision of the future Mister Stain painted?  

It was so stupid.    

They were so stupid.  

All Himiko wanted was a beautiful world to play in, to bask in, to paint herself red in.   And what did they want?  To keep things the same?  Where everything was broken and ugly?  Dull and drab?

God, people were so dumb.

Himiko picked up a small bar of chocolate before casting an appraising look towards the clerk behind the counter, who had his cheek resting on his fist as he flicked a lazy thumb across his phone screen.  Deeming him sufficiently distracted, she quickly pocketed the chocolate bar and added another two in quick succession.  

Pleased with her haul, Himiko spun on her heel to make an exit and found herself facing down a man dressed as Samurai, head shaved in the traditional Chonmage style, and an angry scowl twisting his brow as his hand rested on the hilt of a sword at his hip.

A Hero. 

Of course.  

Because her day wasn't already bad enough.  

With an irritated huff, Himiko dropped her hand down to her side, fingers twitching, ready to reach for one of her hidden knives when she felt an arm link itself through hers.

"Akane!  There you are!  Did you pick out the snacks you wanted for the study group?" You asked cheerfully, pulling Himiko closer into your side with your linked arms.  

"Huh?" Himiko mumbled in confusion.  

"Do you know this girl?" The Samurai Hero barked, marching down the aisle to stand in front of you both.

“Sure do!” You chirped, resting your head against Himiko’s in a show of false familiarity.  “She’s a student at the cram school I work at.  We’re doing some additional study sessions over the holidays and she and I picked the short straws and got sent on a snack run.  Oh!  Speaking of which, go ahead and add your stuff into the basket, Akane.”

“Oh!  Right!  Sure thing, Ma’am!” Himiko replied, pulling the candy bars from her pockets and dumping them into your hand basket. 

“Just plain chocolate?  You need to at least get something with nuts in it to get some protein in,” you chide gently, fishing out two of the bars.  “I’ll let you keep one plain chocolate, but go swap these out for something else.”

“On it!” Himiko calls, saluting you as she strides back over to the candy section and mulls over the available selection while casting glimpses back to where you’re chatting with the Samurai Hero, head bobbing in apology every so often in an attempt to smooth the Hero’s ruffled feathers.  Minutes pass and you eventually bid farewell to the costumed man, who glares in warning back at Himiko before departing through the automatic doors.  You join Himiko by the candy bars, kneeling down onto the floor next to her while she pretends to be deeply engrossed in comparing the ingredient lists of two different peanut butter bars.    

“Listen, you have to be careful around here at the end of the month,” you whisper gently, taking both candy bars out of her hands and adding them into your hand basket.  “We’re right around the corner from Yoroi Musha’s agency and that guy isn’t just old, he’s old school.   All of his sidekicks have detainment quotas they have to fill, so if it’s been a slow crime month they start hauling people in for really petty stuff; like jaywalking or spitting on the sidewalk.”

“Or lifting candy bars from the corner store?” Himiko adds with a cheeky grin. 

Laughing, you stand up and motion for Himiko to follow you down the aisle as you add a couple cans of tuna and a box of crackers into your basket.  

“Do you have access to hot water?” you ask, staring thoughtfully at the bowls of instant ramen. 

“Not reliably, no.”

“Right.  No soup then,” you mumble, walking to the next aisle and tossing in a couple bags of trail mix from the snack section.  The drink cooler is your final stop as you load in some bottles of water and hold up a couple of sports drinks for her to inspect.

“What flavor are you feeling today?  Blue or red?”

“Red.  Red is always my favorite,” Himiko explained, bouncing on her toes excitedly.

“Alright, red it is!” you agree with a smile, setting your full basket down onto the counter for the cashier to begin scanning your selections.  You pay a few extra bucks to have the cashier pack it up in a reusable bag and bid him farewell, Himiko following closely behind you.  

“Here,” you say as you thrust the bag of groceries in Himiko’s direction.  “It’s not much, but it’ll hold you for a little while.”  

Himiko grabs the bag and pulls it to her chest quickly, protectively; like she’s worried you might change your mind and try to snatch it back from her.  With a sad smile, you fish around inside of your purse and pull out a business card, quickly scribbling your name onto the back of it with a cheap ball point pen that only actually worked slightly more often than not.  You hold the card out for her to take, waiting patiently for her to accept your offering.

“This is the information for the soup kitchen I volunteer at.  Doors open at five, but try to line up around four to guarantee you get in.  I wrote my name on the back, so if you have any trouble just give that card to one of the other volunteers and they’ll take care of you, okay?”

Himiko nods as she quickly grabs the card from your grasp and tucks it into the pocket of her coat.  You’re getting ready to leave, turning away from Himiko with a small smile and a wave, when you hear her clear her throat.

“Do- do they also have like, tampons and stuff there?” she whispers, digging the toe of her shoe into a scuff mark on the floor to avoid having to make eye contact with you.  Smiling sadly, you shake your head.  

“I’m afraid they don’t.  But come on, let’s go pick you out something here, okay?”  

Himiko nods and follows you back to the small feminine hygiene section, watching the steady pulsing of your carotid artery in the column of your throat.  Saliva pooled in her mouth at the thought of your blood, hoping that she would have the privilege of tasting it one day soon.  Because kind hearts made for sweet blood, and Himiko knew that you would taste just like candy on her tongue; sweetened and syrupy from all the goodness inside you.

You were too kind for it to be any other way.   

Grasping Tenko around the wrist, you tugged him impatiently up the train station escalator.

“Hurry up, Tenko!”  

“Hold on!” Tenko snapped, nearly tripping over the rising first step.  “What are you in such a rush for anyway?”

You spin around suddenly, grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him towards you, towering over him slightly from your higher escalator stair.

“My roommate just texted me.  She decided to visit her parents for the weekend.  Every minute that passes is one that we could be spending in my room.  Alone.  All weekend."

Eyes impossibly wide, Tenko's arms shoot out, locking around your thighs as he pulls you forward and hefts you over his shoulder.  He dashes up the escalator and skids to a stop on the icy sidewalk in front of the train station.  

"Which way?"

"I don't know!  I'm all turned around like this!" You call helplessly from over his shoulder.  Tenko quickly spins around so you're facing the road and you take a moment to orient yourself.

"Okay, go right."

Tenko takes off at a sprint- in the entirely wrong direction.

"No!  The other right!  The other right!" You screech, laughing as Tenko doubles back to correct his course.  Unable to resist the temptation right in front of your face, you reach out to pat his butt firmly.

"Attaboy!  Giddy up!" 

Your laughter turns into a terrified screech as Tenko loosens his grip around your thighs, causing you to slip a few inches closer to the icy ground.  

"Don't think I won't drop you.  Behave yourself," Tenko warns as he glides across a crosswalk with you waving in apology to the scandalized drivers gawking at your display.  

"Sorry, Tenko," you said earnestly, punctuating your apology with an exaggerated kiss to the same butt cheek you had swatted at moments ago.  

"Didn't take you for a literal ass-kisser," he snorted.

"You should have.  I'm very eager to please."

"Fuck, " Tenko moaned desperately.  "We better be close, because I sure as shit am," he whines, kicking his speed up another notch as he continues down the block.  

"Ta-da!" You call out as your room door swings open.  Your dramatic entrance is derailed by the door only opening half-way; a pile of dirty laundry keeping the door from budging any further. 

Tenko squeezes into the room first, revulsion evident as he takes in the numerous piles of junk stacked up against the walls, the laundry in varying states of dryness hung across the room on a retractable laundry line, and the unmade bunk beds tucked against the back wall.  

"Charming," he sneered, not even bothering to take off his shoes as he walked further into your room.  Considering that you had only a hazy recollection of the last time you swept the floors, you couldn't really fault him for that decision.  He paused next to a particularly tall stack of clutter, prodding at the remains of half a surfboard that poked out from the side.  

"Ah, yeah.  My roommate is a big fan of dumpster diving," you explain sheepishly, rubbing at your cheek nervously as Tenko wiped his hand off on the side of his coat.  “Much less a fan of putting stuff into the trash though.”  

“That's obvious,” Tenko scoffed as he kicked at a tangled up Slinky, sending it tumbling to under your roommate’s desk. 

“Look,” you say with an irritated huff as you shut and lock the door behind you.  “You can stand here and point out every single fault in my room if you want to.  Or,” you pause, slowly crossing the room towards Tenko with a mischievous smirk.  “You can appreciate the fact that we’re someplace warm.  And dry.  And quiet.  And alone,” you purr, running your hands up his chest.  

Tenko hummed thoughtfully as he began to slowly undo the buttons on your coat.  “Those are all very strong points in your room’s favor.”

“Mmhmm,” you agreed, tangling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, your grip pulling ever so gently until Tenko inhaled sharply and leaned back into your grasp.  You unclench your fist and run your fingers soothingly along his scalp, massaging away any discomfort you might have caused.  Tenko hurriedly undoes the rest of your buttons and pushes your coat down your arms with a growl; your sweater joining it on the floor only moments later.  With his mask pulled up, he latches onto your neck, biting down with an aching pressure that leaves you breathless.  

The two of you fumble backwards towards the bed, divesting Tenko of his coat and shoes as you went.  The frame of the bottom bunk bumps against your shins as you tug impatiently on his shoulders, unsuccessful in your attempts to pull him down onto your bed with you.  You grasp for his mask blindly, pulling it down over the bottom of his face before you pull yourself back to look at him.  He’s glaring at the bottom bunk apprehensively as his thumbs traced circles over your hips.   

“What’s wrong?” you asked, trying to keep a hold onto the mood by nuzzling sweetly under his jaw.  

“I'm not going to fit.”

“Excuse you- what,” you screech, staring down at his groin in horror.  Tenko laughs sharply and bonks his forehead into yours in a gentle reprimand. 

“Not my dick, Dummy.  I won’t fit into the bunk with you.”  

“Oh ,” you breathe in relief before turning to examine the cramped cubby your mattress occupied, which had barely enough clearance for you to flip over during the night. 

“Well, shit.”

After enduring months of pitiful longing and desperate touches, there was no way that Tomura was going to pass up the opportunity to get you into bed; even if the current victory conditions were…less than ideal.  When it became obvious that the two of you wouldn’t fit into the bottom bunk, you’d put a pin in your amorous fondling to go over your options.  You were staunchly opposed to moving your activities up into your roommate’s bunk, which left the floor as the only available horizontal surface; although ‘available’ was a generous term considering the thick layer of junk that blanketed it.  

The two of you quickly got to work clearing an area in the middle of the room.  You gathered up large armloads of items and dumped them unceremoniously onto your roommate’s desk and office chair while Tomura followed behind you, tossing (and occasionally dusting) the objects you left behind.  Once enough space had been reclaimed, Tomura dragged your mattress down onto the floor while you busied yourself swapping out bedding and fluffing up pillows.  A small basket filled with condoms and a bottle of lube is placed near the head of the bed before you step back with your hands on your hips, admiring the results of your labor with a satisfied smile.  

“Well? What do you think?” you ask, turning to Tomura.  He responds by grasping your shoulders firmly and pushing you backwards onto the bed, grinning ferally as you squeal and bounce down onto the mattress.  

“I think,” Tomura began, dropping down onto his knees at the foot of the mattress. “That I’ve been very good,” he says as he grasps the toes of your socks one-by-one, pulling them off slowly before tossing them over his shoulder to land in one pile of rubbish or another.  He drops down onto all fours and slinks up your body, drawing to a stop when he’s able to reach the waistband of your jeans.  

“And very kind,” his fingers deftly unto your button and zipper before tugging them down your hips.  Tomura carefully bends your left leg up off the mattress, working the denim down and over your foot before repeating his actions on the right side.  He runs his hands across the bare skin of your thighs before dropping his head down to press soft, mask-covered kisses to both your knees before he hitches your legs up to wrap around his waist.  

“And very, very patient,” he purrs as he presses forward, your body curling around him encouragingly as he brings his face level with yours.  

“But now,” he pauses to grind his hips down against yours, the stiff denim catching on the wet cotton of your panties.  “Now I’m going to ruin you.” 

There was no visible clock in your room so it was impossible for Tomura to know just how long you’d been wrapped up in each other, but even if he had an eternity to spare it still wouldn’t be enough time to satiate his desire for you.  Every moan, every caress, every shiver of your body under his hands stoked the needy fire smoldering in his chest until it burned so intensely he could barely stand it.  His need for you consumed him as he memorized your body, every crease and curve laid bare for him to explore and adore.  

“Oh, how lovely you are,” Tomura praised.  “Every single inch of you.  How are you so perfect?”

“I’m- I’m not,” you gasp, chest heaving from the effort of keeping up with the rapturous waves of pleasure Tomura had churned up in your body.  With a displeased grunt Tomura plucked your nipple harshly, causing you to yelp.

“Enough of that.  I won’t tolerate you lying to me,” he warned, thumb tracing soothing circles over the nipple he had used to discipline you.  A deep, needy moan falls from your lips as you push your breast up into Tomura’s hand- an absolutely novel experience he’d never had until you.  No one ever reached for his hands or demanded his touch; his memories full of people freezing at best and recoiling at worst.  Given, you didn’t know the nature of his Quirk and would likely react entirely differently if you knew just what his hands were capable of, but until then he would make the most of your naive trust and indulge himself to the fullest.  With that end in mind, he ran two fingers across your lower lip, a devious smile concealed behind his facemask.

“Open up,” he demands, sighing in delight as your jaw immediately drops open to accommodate the two fingers he slides into your mouth.  Your tongue begins to enthusiastically lap at his fingers, circling his fingertips as you bobbed gently down his digits.  Tomura cried out as his free hand scrambled for purchase around your waist, wrapping around you in a vice grip as he rutted into the junction of your thighs with strong pumps of his hips.  His fingers are pulled from your mouth with a wet pop as you throw your head back into the pillows with a howl.

Having reached his limit, Tomura begins to undo his belt with one hand while the other reaches above your head to grab a condom from the basket you had placed there.  Both your hands raise up and wrap around the arm poised above you.

“Wait,” you beg.  Tomura instantly stills, his hands abandoning their previous tasks to gently caress your face and jaw.

“What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“Can you take this off?” you ask, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.  

“I- I don’t think that’s a good idea.  It’s pretty messed up under there.  You shouldn’t have to see that.”

“I want to, Tenko- I want to see it.  I want to see you.   All of you.” 

Tomura tries to swallow, but his mouth has run dry.  

“Please,” you beg, running your fingers tenderly over the cracked skin spanning his forehead.  “Let me touch you the way you deserve.”

“This is hardly the time for violence.”    

"Tenko," you chide softly, a single finger tapping the tip of his nose in a much gentler reprimand than the one he gave to you for a similar act of self-deprecation. "Don't say things like that."

"I'm not a good man."

"You're good to me," you assure him.  "Let me be good to you."

There was no way Tomura could deny your request with the soft way you were looking at him, your eyes shining with earnestness.   

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Tomura nodded, sitting back onto his haunches to gain easier access to the bottom hem of his shirt.  Still wrapped around him, you give him a quick squeeze with your thighs- a silent show of encouragement to see him through.  He takes a fortifying breath, ripping the shirt off quickly before he had time to lose his nerve; averting his eyes so he wouldn't have to see your expression shift from adoration to revulsion.  

"Oh, Tenko," you whisper, obviously horrified by the scar tissue twisting across his body; layers of fleshy ribbons knitted together and draped over his neck and shoulders like a horrific scarf.  Some areas had been left alone long enough to heal and fade to white while other areas were mottled messes of peeling scabs clinging desperately to the edges of freshly weeping scratches.  

“It’s really bad right now.  I don’t know why,” he croaked, hating how he couldn’t stop picking and leave his skin well enough alone.  Even now as he stood facing down the consequences of his habit, he caught his hand sneaking up to his neck; fingers poised to claw at a patch of skin under his left ear.  Huffing in frustration, he forced his arm back down to his side as he did his best to ignore the prickling sensation spreading along his throat.    

He knew what would come next.  You would withdraw from his embrace, disgust thinly veiled by brittle smiles; you'd offer up  stale platitudes; ‘Oh, it doesn’t look so bad’ or 'I won't be able to tell if the lights are off'.  

That's what had always happened before; back when he had the money and status to gild his faults and make him appear to be a more appealing partner.  But those advantages are long gone now, vestiges of another life.  He's been left with nothing to offer you aside from himself; a repulsive and destitute man.  

He'd been anticipating your rejection, tensely bracing himself for the emotional blow to finally hit when he felt your fingers, cautious and warm, descend onto his shoulder.  

"Poor thing," you cooed softly, running your fingers along the edges of the web-like scar tissue.  "These look really uncomfortable.  It must be hard, having to deal with this."

"I- yes," Tomura swallowed, caught off guard by your tenderness.  

"Do they hurt?"

"I'm used to it."

"That's not what I asked.  Do they hurt?"

"Yeah," Tomura quietly admitted. "All the time.  The itching is the worst part though."

His heart races as you wind your arms around his shoulders, peppering his scars with kisses.  

"What can I do?" You ask in between kisses, working your way up Tomura's neck.  

"This is more than enough- more than I could ever ask for," he rasps, dropping his head down onto your shoulder as tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.  You hum in acknowledgment before patting his back.

"Lie down on your belly," you direct, shifting over to the side of the mattress to make room for him.  Tomura does as you ask, slowly sliding face-first down onto the mattress.  He feels you straddle his lower back, the evidence of your arousal warm and tacky against his skin.

"I'm sorry," Tomura mutters, burying his face into your pillow as embarrassment bubbles through him.

"For what?" You ask, bending over to resume lavishing his ruined skin with your gentle affections.  

"Messing up our night."

"You didn't mess up anything."

"Sure feels like I did," Tomura scoffs.  

"Why?  Because we haven't had sex?"

"I mean- yeah?  That's the reason we're here, right?"

"The reason we're here is because I wanted to be alone with you.  That's all."

"So you're happy to be kissing my disgusting back?"

"Absolutely delighted," you say, punctuating your claim with an exaggerated large kiss to his shoulder.

"You're so fucking strange," Tomura teases fondly.

"Maybe," you agree readily, switching your attention to his other shoulder. "But it's part of my charm."

"Yeah," Tomura sighs, nuzzling more deeply into your pillow; his eyes growing heavy as deep contentment loosened his muscles and settled into his bones.  It had been so long since he’d slept in a proper bed that even your lumpy mattress felt decadent compared to the thin community center cots and stacks of cardboard he’d grown accustomed to.  

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No,” Tomura lied.  

“Uh-huh.  Sure.  Why don’t you go ahead and take your pants off, just in case?”

“You sure about that?”

“I don’t really relish the idea of having hot denim pressed against my body all night,” you say, grimacing in revulsion at the thought.  “And It’ll be more comfortable for you that way too.”  

“All right, if you insist,” Tenko laughed as he rolled onto his back and shoved his pants down past his hips in one smooth motion, delighting in your startled gasp at the revelation that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.  

“Go ahead and get a good look,” he smirked brazenly, laying back on the bed to give you a complete view of what he was working with.  “It’ll be hard to see it tomorrow when I have it buried in your pussy all day.” 

“Tenko!”

It was still dark when you awoke, consciousness lazily clawing away at the bleary remnants of sleep clinging to your mind.  You reach above your head, back arching into a deep stretch, when you feel something stiff rub against your lower back.  With a mischievous grin you thrust your butt backwards, rubbing yourself against Tenko’s morning erection.  His eyes shoot open as he’s pulled from his slumber, gasping into your ear while his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your flush against his chest as he rolls his hips in time with yours.  One of his hands glides up your body, circling your nipple with barely there touches until it puckers tightly in the chilly morning air.  

“That was quite the wake-up call,” he says, bringing his other hand up to play with your neglected tit.  

“Did you like it?” you ask, shooting a coy look at him over your shoulder.  

“You’ve put all of my previous alarm clocks to shame.”  

Snorting inelegantly, you manage to wiggle to the edge of the bed despite Tenko’s vice-like grip around your waist.  

“Where do you think you’re going?” he scowls.

“Me?  I’m going down,” you say with a cheeky wink as you disappear beneath the covers.  You’d just settled between Tenko’s thighs when the comforter is suddenly ripped off of the bed, causing you to gasp as the warm air surrounding you dissipated all at once.  

“Hey!  It’s freezing!”

“Too bad.  I’m not missing watching my girl suck me off for the first time,” Tenko said, folding his arms behind his head to prop him up to a better viewing angle.  

“Steal my blanket again and this’ll be the only time,” you grumble as you take him in hand, lightly pumping a couple of times to completely retract his foreskin before you press a kiss to the tip; already glossy with a thin sheen of pre cum.  The weight of Tenko’s gaze is heavy and some part of you delights in his fanatical scrutiny; liking how powerful- how desirable, you felt commanding someone’s attention so wholly.  Mouth open wide, you engulf the head of his penis and settle it onto your tongue, mindful of the positioning of your teeth as you hollow out your cheeks and begin to suck.  

“Oh, Sweetheart, yes, ” Tenko moaned.  

Keeping up the suction, you languidly circled the head of his cock with your tongue while your hand resumed pumping his shaft.  You listened carefully to his moans and pleas and adjusted your speed and pressure accordingly, making note of his preferences for the future.  First times always felt a little bit awkward as you fiddled around, trying to figure out the best way to please your partner.  Tenko gave good feedback though.  So once his thighs began quaking and he began hissing at you from behind clenched teeth, you took that as a sign that he was ready to forge ahead.

Dropping your hand down to his base to hold his dick steady, you breathed out through your nose and slowly dropped down his length.  Tenko is, blessedly and mercifully, an average size so you didn’t have to worry too much about triggering your gag reflex as you swallowed him down.  

“Ah!  Ah!  Yes!  Fuck!” He bellowed.  “That feels so good- you feel so good!”

Humming playfully in return, you smile internally when the vibrations set Tenko off on another round of swearing.  Fingers brush against your cheek, bringing your attention up to Tenko’s face as you continue bobbing up and down on his cock. 

“Do you want me to cum in your mouth?”

You shake your head. 

“Better pop off then.  I’m close,” he says, panting all the while.  Not needing to be told twice, you pull your mouth away and sit up, grasping his length with your hand again.  Tenko’s hand comes to rest on top of yours, grip firm aside from his raised pinky, as he adjusts your hold on him and guides your hand along to the pace he needs.  

“That’s perfect- ah, just like that!”

Tenko groans as he cums, thick ropes spraying out across his belly and your bed.  With the back of your hand, you wipe off some spit from the corner of your mouth and observe Tenko’s prone form with a proud smile.  Hair impossibly mussed and skin dewy, he looked thoroughly debauched and it was all because of you- your hands and mouth had driven him to this point.  

Excitement curled in your stomach at the thought of how ravaged he would look when your pussy was done with him.

Chest still lightly heaving, Tenko blindly groped at the floor alongside your bed until he happened upon your discarded panties, scrunching them up and using them to wipe his belly clean.

"Hey!  Those are mine!"

"What's the big deal?" Tenko grunts, tossing the soiled panties in the general direction of your laundry pile.  "You're not using them."

"Yeah, but now I have to clean up after you.  You're not being a very considerate guest."

"Please," Tenko snorts incredulously as he gestures to the piles of junk stacked along the walls.  "This place is cleaner now than when I arrived."

"That's…true," you reluctantly admit, shuffling back down to join him on the mattress.

"It is.  So stop complaining. And if you really don't like the mess you can always just let me cum in your mouth next time," he grins.

"Hmm, tempting.  But I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug.

Feeling playful, you grab a hold of his wrist in both your hands, resting it between your breasts. 

"My mouth might be off limits," you say teasingly as you drag his fingers slowly down your sternum towards your stomach.  "But I've got some other places you could try." 

"Yeah?" Tenko whispered breathlessly, his eyes wide and transfixed in the journey across your skin his hand was taking.  You guide his hand down further, past your belly button and over your mons, sucking in a sharp breath when Tenko curls two fingers inside of you.

"You're already so fucking wet ,” he says with obvious delight, pulling his fingers out and marveling at the fluid that clung to them.  Not wanting to waste the natural lubrication you were providing him, Tenko smeared his fingers over your clit and slowly began gyrating over the sensitive nub.  It took a few minutes of trial and error to find the right mix of pressure and speed, but Tenko eventually managed to strike the right balance and had you writing in pleasure under his ministrations.  

“Look at how good my fingers make you feel- you’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

Whining piteously you buck your hips up, twisting your pelvis so he was hitting just the right spot.  

“Tell me.  Tell me how good my hands make you feel,” he whispered desperately.  

“So good, ” you moan.   "Your hands make me feel so good- ah!"

An orgasm rolls through you, a gentle surge of pleasure that steals your breath away.  You grind against Tenko's fingers, doing your best to draw out your climax for as long as you can.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop!" You beg Tenko, your muscles stiff as the tiny sparks of ecstasy begin to fizzle out.  Tenko dutifully kept on circling your clit, sliding fingers back inside you; his breath hitching as the gentle pulsation of your walls tugged gently on his digits.

"Look at this," he marveled, giving the fingers buried inside you a gentle wiggle.  "You're pulling them in deeper- is that what you want?  You want me to be inside you?"

"Uh-huh,” you nod eagerly, reaching above you to grab a condom to toss his way.  He catches it between two fingers and uses his teeth to tear open the wrapper, quickly rolling it down his cock as he situated himself between your legs.  With a happy sigh he wraps his arms around your knees and hitches your legs up over his hips.  

“You’ve been filling up my belly for months now,” he says, prodding at your entrance with the blunt head of his dick.  “And now it’s time that I return the favor.”  The pressure on your slit increases and you feel your lips spread as his tip presses in at a maddeningly slow pace.  He leans down until his mouth is next to your ear, a forearm on each side of your head, as he whispers in your ear:

“Enjoy your meal,” he laughs, sinking fully into you with a single thrust that has you crying out in surprise and rapture.  Tenko’s thrusts were a little too forceful and your sense of rhythm could use a little work, so it took a few moments to coordinate your movements.  Eventually Tenko eases back and you get your timing under control and your bodies start rocking in sync and it feels so lovely and wonderful.  Happiness flooded your heart at your newfound intimacy and you couldn’t help the giddy laugh that escapes you.  

“What’s so funny?” Tenko grunts from above you.  

“Nothing- nothing’s funny,” you breathe.  “I’m just happy.  You make me so happy.”

Tenko’s hips skip a beat.  “Really?”  

“Really,” you say, turning your head to the side to rest your foreheads together.  The two of you stay like that, lost in the delicate warmth of the moment as your bodies rocked together.  Soon, Tenko’s breathing becomes labored and his hips begin to stutter against yours.  

“I’m going to cum-,” he pants, nestling his head into the crook of your neck as his hips stutter forward.  You press kisses across the exposed parts of his face as he loses control, crying out in ecstasy before sinking down on top of you, utterly spent.  

“Tenko!  You’re heavy!  Get off of me!,” you groan.  You can’t decipher Tenko’s response, his face is buried in the crook of your neck and muffling his words.  But he does roll off to the side, grasping the base of the condom as he withdrawals so he doesn't accidentally leave it behind.         

“I’ll be right back,” you say as you push yourself up from the mattress.  “I need to pee and then I’ll bring you back a washcloth to clean up.”  

Tenko responded with a series of garbled noises, which you chose to interpret as an ‘okay’.  

You returned a few minutes later with an empty bladder and a warm washcloth that steamed faintly in the cold air of your room.  Kneeling down next to Tenko’s sprawled out body, you gently began to wipe his thighs and dick clean, the condom already removed and tied and placed near the basket at the head of the bed.  Remembering the mess he’d half-heartedly attempted to clean earlier, you run the washcloth over the plains of his belly and giggle as his stomach muscles twitch in response.  

“Are you ticklish?

“No, of course not,” Tenko scoffed, tightening his abdominal muscles underneath your hands to keep them from jumping.  

“Really?” You ask suspiciously, narrowing your eyes at Tenko.  

“Really,” Tenko nodded as he grasped your arm and pulled you back into bed with him, wrapping you both up in the discarded comforter.  “I don’t like lying.  And I especially don’t like lying to you.”

“Have you?  Lied to me, I mean.”

“Yes,” Tenko answers without hesitation.  His answer doesn’t shock you, but you find that you’re disappointed just the same.  

“What have you lied about?”  

“My name.”

“It’s not Tenko?”

“No, not anymore,” he says as his fingers trace over the swell of your collar bone, an intimate touch that helps settle your nerves.   

“Will you ever tell me your real name?”

“Yes.  One day.”

“But not today?”

“Not today.”  

You sigh in resignation before tucking yourself into Tenko’s embrace, letting his hands caress and comfort you.  

“If you won’t tell me your name, will you tell me something else?”  

“What do you want to know?”  

“Just-,” you pause, collecting your jumbled thoughts.  “Something that’s true?  About you?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he says, shifting you in his arms so you could lay together face-to-face, your heads resting together on the same pillow.  

“I’m really good at video games.  And I think that bananas taste the best when they’re still a little green.”

“Ugh, really?”

“Yep,” he nods solemnly, as though burdened by his fruit preferences.  “I had a hard time putting on socks when I was a kid, so I just stopped wearing them.”

“Did you have a difficult time with underwear too?” you tease, remembering his expedited clothing removal from earlier.    

“Nah, It’s just more comfortable for me. Free-balling chafes my skin less.”

“Got anything else?” You pry, fascinated by the tiny glimpses of his life he was sharing with you.  

“I can fall asleep anywhere, but I’m a really light sleeper so I wake up a ton.  I always carry around a bottle of hand sanitizer because I can never get those bathroom faucets with motion sensors to turn on.”

Tenko slides his body closer to you until your chests are pressed together, hearts closer to each other than they’ve ever been before.   

“And I am pretty damn sure that you’re it for me,” he whispers, cradling your face gently in his hands, his fingers caressing you just as gently as his words do.    

“I’m pretty sure you’re it for me, too.”

“I don’t believe it,” Himiko gasped, utterly gobsmacked at the scene playing out before her.  Running into Shigaraki unplanned was strange enough, but also having a front seat to watch him attempt to flirt?  She must have just used up all of her accrued karma in one fell swoop because this was a once in a lifetime event- the Halley’s Comet of gossip fodder.  

Twice was going to absolutely freak when she told him!

“They’re a cute couple, aren’t they?” The woman behind the counter said, having caught onto the subject of Himiko’s fascination.  

“Oh, yeah!  Totally adorable!  How long have they been together?”

The woman rolled her eyes with a groan.  “Not long enough!  That girl had to chase Tenko for months before anything good happened.”

“Really? ” Himiko grinned, taking a hold of the tray being passed to her.  “That’s pretty out of character for him.”

“Oh!  Do you know Tenko?  Are you an ex-girlfriend or something?”

“Ick!  No way!,” Himiko denied, sticking out her tongue with an exaggerated gagging sound.  “He was the leader of a…youth group I was in.”  Spinner, Tomura, Dabi, and her were all young.  Relatively.  So that wasn’t a completely untrue statement.    

“Really?  Huh.  Didn’t really peg him as a leadership type.  He’s kinda’ prickly.”  

“Definitely!  But once you get to know him you realize he’s slightly less prickly than you originally thought.  Anyway, it’s been great talking to you, but I gotta’ go!  Me and my Leader have some catching up to do!” Himiko called over her shoulder as she skipped away, the cutlery on her tray bouncing as she wove through the packed tables of patrons.  

“Why, hello there!  Long time no see!” Himiko crowed as she slammed her tray down onto the table across from you and Tomura.     

“Oh!  It’s you!  I’m glad you could make it!” you greet cheerily, sending a sincere smile Himiko’s way.  

Tomura has an inscrutable look on his face as his eyes dart from you to Himiko.  “You two know each other?”

“A little.  I met- ah, I’m sorry.  I didn’t catch your name last week?”

“Akane,” Himiko supplied, gleefully stabbing a straw through the top of her juice box.  

“Is it really?” you ask with a delighted lilt to your voice.  

“No, but that’s as good enough a name as any.”

“And here I was, all excited that I had managed to guess correctly,” you sighed.  “Anyway, she and I met at a convenience store last week.  How do you and Tenko know each other?”  

“He was the Leader-,” Himiko paused, delighting in the murderous glare Tomura was shooting at her over his tonkatsu. “- of a youth group I was in.”  

“Really?” You turned and asked Tomura. 

“Something like that,” he grunted, tapping at the table irritably.  With a soft smile you laid your hand over his and gave his cheek a quick peck.  

“I’ve gotta’ get back to work.”  Still grinning, you turn to Himiko.  “I’m so glad you took me up on my offer to visit.  It was lovely to see you again.  Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t.  Believe me, ” Himiko laughed in delight as Tomura scowled at her.  They waited for you to return to your spot in the serving line before picking their conversation.  

“She’s really nice, Tenko.  You better not screw this up.”

“Don’t worry Akane, ” Tomura spat.  “I won’t.”

Tomura stood with his tray and began to make his way over to the trash cans, pausing behind Himiko to lay a hand on her shoulder in a four finger grip.

“And just to lay everything out nice and clear for you, don’t even think about taking her blood,” Tomura growled, his index finger lowering until it hovered just over the surface of Himiko’s sweater.  “I’m the only one who gets to know what she tastes like.  Understand?”

“Completely,” Himiko gulped.  

“Good.  Glad we had this talk,” Tomura said, giving her shoulder a firm pat with a finger barely raised before he withdrew, leaving Himiko quaking in her seat as adrenaline spiked through her body. 

“Did you want to invite Akane out with us tonight?” You asked, spying the girl lingering a little ways down the block from where you were locking up the front doors for the night.  

“No,” Tenko scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets to warm them up.  “Why would I?”

“Well, it seems like you know her pretty well.  And I’m a little worried about her, to be honest.”

“She’s a tough girl, she can take care of herself.  Trust me,” Tenko assured you.  

“I’m sure she is, but that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t benefit from a little help.  I found her trying to steal some food from a convenience store right under a Hero’s nose.  It could have been an absolute mess if he’d caught her,” you sighed, dropping your keys into your purse.  

“Shit, ” Tenko swore, peering down the block to where Akane was leaning against a light pole, bent over her cellphone.  “How’d you get her out of that one?”

“I claimed that she was helping me pick out snacks and then purchased all the stuff she was trying to carry off.  Girl has an expensive taste in chocolate,” you bemoan, remembering how your spontaneous shopping trip took a larger than anticipated chunk out of your bank account.  It had been worth it of course, but doing what felt right wasn’t always easy or without sacrifice.    

“You deliberately lied to a Hero,” Tenko stated, his face stoic and unreadable as he waited for your response.  

“I mean, yeah?  Of course?  He was just looking for a dumb reason to pick someone up.  I wasn’t going to let him ruin some kid’s life because he couldn’t find an actual crime to stop.”  

His hand shot out, fast as a dart, to cover your eyes as he pulled his mask down and smashed his lips against yours.  

“That’s my girl,” he said, grinning against your lips before he dove back in for another taste, both of you so caught up in each other you didn’t notice the flash of a camera cell-phone going off from a little further down the block or the high-pitched squeal that followed it.   

Today had been so busy you’d barely had time to check your phone.  The due date for a large project was looming ever closer, and you had spent all day holed up in a study room in your University library, revising draft after draft until you felt confident enough that all your citations were accurate and you’d used a consistent tense from start to finish. 

Loud snores drifted through the air from the bunk above you, your roommate already deeply asleep as you snuggled into your tiny bottom bunk and started replying to the messages that had been accumulating in your inbox all day.  Your mother was asking you to call, likely to gossip about a distant relative or fussy neighbor, a classmate from last semester was begging for your class notes, and some political party wanted you to take a survey by following a link that you would definitely not be clicking.   

But the one message you’d been anticipating the most, a good-night message from Tenko, was suspiciously absent.  Frowning, you scroll down to your chat log and click on his name.  The message you sent this morning had gone through but hadn’t been opened, which was very strange.  Tenko was always very quick to respond to your messages.  

Maybe he had just been busy?  Or accidentally dismissed the notification before he read it?  

Not too concerned, you quickly type in a message:

Today was brutal!  I wish I had spent it with you instead.  

You busied yourself waiting for his reply by playing a puzzle game you had downloaded a few days ago, your anxiety levels rising as the digital clock in the corner of your screen ticked on into the early morning hours without a response; your last message still sitting in your chat log unread. 

Tenko?  Where are you?      

#tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura x y/n #tomura x you #tomura x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x female reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x self insert #pigeoncoos🕊

[coopigeoncoo]

The 3-Cs of 3-A, Chapter 1: The World Turns Upside Down

Chapter Links: Next

Pairing: Eventual Bakugou Katsuki x Fem Reader (it's a very long way off though)

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Mineta Redemption, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader, Sexual Harassment, Abusive Parenting, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Statutory Rape, Dubious Consent, Underage Sex, Underage Drinking, Domestic Violence, Blood and Injury

Tags are subject to change as story develops.

---

Mineta Minoru is a perverted misogynist whose antics should have had him expelled from UA long ago.

But he wasn’t.

And now it’s your job to fix him.

May God have mercy on your soul.

–-- “Well then, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands,” Mineta purred before popping open the top two buttons on his shirt, sending you a coy look from under his lashes. “Mold me into the perfect hero, Pygmalion!  Make me your Galatea!” he screamed as he ripped open his shirt, buttons flying haphazardly through the air and pinging off the walls and floor.  You throw your arms up to cover your eyes, as though blinded by the pale skin of his belly.  

“Why do you always have to make this weird?” you moan forlornly, already bending down to search along the floor for the missing buttons.  

---

Continue Reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Chapter 1: The World Turns Upside Down

In which you make a grave error and start a chain reaction that changes life as you know it.

The only thing you were the best at was trying your best, and honestly, that was pretty darn good.

You had never been given a solo in band class, but the only mistakes you made while playing were small and easily drowned out by the enthusiastic French horn player that sat next to you. Homework assignments were always turned in fully completed, on time, with legible penmanship, but you never managed to break the top 30 academic rankings at your school. Your brief stint as a field hockey player ended with you having never scored a goal despite your team making it to the playoffs.

You rose to all the challenges you were given and performed admirably, but you never truly excelled at anything. You did well and you supposed that was well enough.

It was this long and unwavering history of academic adequacy that led you to make what was ultimately, in retrospect, the worst decision of your young life.

Two options were set before you and neither of them were particularly appealing.

The first was an exhaustively long and detailed research paper on the rise of commercialized hero agencies that spanned from the initial onset of Quirks until today. The second was the same project all of your future classmates had been assigned a week prior: building and maintaining a mock hero agency for the remainder of the school year. Research had never been your strong suit and the idea of working on a singular paper for eight months straight was one of the worst ways you could imagine spending your senior year.

"I think," you murmured quietly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. " I think I would like to attempt the hero project, Sir."

Since this was the first time you had met the Principal of your new school you were woefully unaware of the horrors that awaited when Nezu's eyes twinkled just so, and your hesitant acceptance set of a shimmer in his beady eyes that would have any experienced member of his staff revising the resignation letters they all had saved on their desktops for easy access.

"Excellent!" He proclaimed cheerily, sharp teeth bared in an unnerving smile as he reached into his desk and withdrew a stack of files. "Most excellent indeed! I'll provide you with all the pertinent records and files for your project. I'm looking forward to seeing what your fresh perspective will bring to the table with no inherited biases!"

"Biases? What biases?" you asked warily.

"Nothing to worry yourself over!,” Nezu assured you as he continued to add to the file stack. “I can tell by your academic record that you're a hard worker no matter how challenging the assignment! Taking on something of this magnitude will really set you apart from your peers,” Nezu said as he added a collection of slim binders on top of the file stack.

"Ah, is that okay though? I'm transferring in during my third year. The rest of my class has way more experience. One of them will probably be a better choice to handle a…more challenging project?" you questioned, becoming increasingly nervous and uncertain as the stack of files continued to grow.

"Nonsense! You're a clever girl, you'll be fine. Besides, all of them already refused to do this. Well, except that one boy. Utada, I believe? He received this assignment originally," Nezu murmured, tapping a clawed finger to his chin gently and his other hand shuffled papers on his desk about into a messy pile before clipping it together and depositing it onto the towering stack of paper between you.

"Oh! Will I be working together with him, then? Like a group project?" you sighed, relieved that you would have a partner to work through this monstrous assignment with.

"Work with who? Utada? Oh, heavens no! He dropped out. Purely coincidental, I'm sure, and not at all related to this project. Now, let's finish up the rest of your transfer paperwork, shall we?"

A weak smile wobbled across your face as you nodded, worried about the workload but knowing you didn't really have much of a choice but to accept.  UA was a high-level, competitive school.  You knew going in that the course work was going to be more challenging than your previous school, but there was no way they would assign anything too difficult, right?

Your newly found confidence immediately faltered as Nezu pushed the towering stack of paper and office supplies across the desk towards you.

“This information should be sufficient to get you started. Make sure to let your homeroom teacher know if there is anything missing and we’ll make arrangements to get it to you. Best of luck!”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you gathered up the stack of files into your arms and carefully maneuvered your way out of the office, unaware of the principal's feral grin that lasted long after you bumped the door closed with your hip.

The project, in theory, was simple: build a hero agency from the ground up. It's the perfect assignment for the Business Course students because it would very likely mirror what awaited them in the professional world once they graduated; working with a hero, constructing an image, supporting the brand, and keeping the budget in line. It was a culmination of two years of accrued knowledge put to the test.

Two years of knowledge that you didn't possess.

Transferring into any program during your final year was already going to be a nightmare, but the specialized and hero-focused curriculum of UA didn't mesh with your previous school's classes as well as you'd hoped. Or at all, really. You didn’t know what got covered in the second year math class 'Deconstructing Destruction: Calculating the Cost of Replacing Public Works' but you had a sneaking suspicion it was vastly different from your Probability and Statistics course.

“Welp,” you sighed as you took in the mountain of paperwork stacked on top of your desk “Time to get to work.”

The syllabus was at the top of the stack and you managed to make it a full thirty pages in before you started hyperventilating. You weren't even halfway through the project outline and every bullet point had at least six additional bullet points underneath it. The breadth and depth of this project was unreal and you had no idea how you were going to manage it.

You set a cellphone timer for ten minutes and managed to work in two full existential crises before the alarm sounded. After that, you took a series of calming breaths and began collating.

Files were broken up by individual assignment, hole punched, and placed neatly into three ring binders with color coded sticky tabs that you could use to quickly access different sections. Due dates were logged in your agenda and calendar reminders were added to your cell phone. It took you hours to organize the entire towering project outline. The satisfaction you felt as you stared at the collection of pristine and orderly binders must be what new parents felt when holding their child for the first time; overwhelming pride and exhaustion in equal measure.

Only one file remained on your desk; the student record for the hero in training that you'd be building an agency for. You sat down in your desk chair, cracked your knuckles, and opened the file to the first page.

"Alright, Mineta Minoru! Let's see what you've got, hero!"

"Oh God," you sobbed into your hands. "He's awful."

#pigeoncoos🕊 #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #bnha x fem!reader #mineta fanfiction #mineta fic #mineta redemption #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou x female reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x fem!reader

[coopigeoncoo]

{Name: Pigeon} {Pronouns: she/her} {Ao3: CooPigeonCoo} {Original Icon Art by Felicia Chiao}

Masterlist of published works, organized by series and pairing.

Hazbin Hotel

Multi-Chapter, Works in Progress

[Alastor x Reader]

Meat Cute: In which Alastor decides to entangle himself with a butcher, but he may have bit off more than he can chew. (Female Reader Insert, Dark Romantic Comedy)

My Hero Academia

One Shots

[Hawks x Reader]

The Cardinal Rule: A story where Hawks learns that while humans might be awed by his flying skill, the bird population is decidedly less impressed. (Gender Neutral Reader Insert, Romantic Comedy)

[Shouto x Reader]

The Whole Dang Zoo: In which Shouto learns that all animal-based nicknames are not created equal. (Female Reader Insert, Romantic Comedy, Fluff)

Bottle Episode: A late night meal delivery to Pro Hero Shouto goes terribly wrong, leaving you trapped in a room together with no obvious means of escape. (Gender Neutral Reader Insert, Comedic Drama with a Happy Ending)

[Twice x Reader]

The Space Between Stars: Accidentally interrupting a burglary in process sets off a series of questionable decisions you probably should have thought Twice about. (Gender Neutral Reader Insert, Comedic Meet-Ugly turned Domestic Fluff)

Multi-Chapter, Completed Works

[Shigaraki x Reader]

Hot Dish: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal. Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date. (Female Reader Insert, 18+ Romance)

[Kirishima x Reader]

An Itch to Scratch: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town.  He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.   And that might actually be a bit of a problem. (Female Reader Insert, 18+ Romance, MerMay)

[Shouto x Reader]

A Persistent Lack of Follow Through: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Shouto had learned a lot from his Father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge. But one thing Endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner. Shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way. (Female Reader Insert, 18+, Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Multi-Chapter, Works in Progress

[Eventual Bakugou x Reader]

The 3-Cs of 3-A: Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, Mineta Minoru is a perverted misogynist whose antics should have had him expelled from UA long ago. But he wasn’t. And now it’s your job to fix him. May God have mercy on your soul. (Female Reader Insert, 18+, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Mineta Redemption)

I do not give approval for my stories to be posted anywhere than my personal pages on Ao3 and Tumblr. I do not authorize any translations or recordings (podfics) to be created using my stories.

And PLEASE, do not feed my work into any AI or computer learning programs.

#pigeoncoos🕊