Anniversary Day With Them - Mha

Iida x Fem!Reader Historical AU: Victorian Era Word Count: 6466

!!: Angst-ish

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A ball. A glorious evening full of dancing, drinking, and eating the finest food. This one is supposed to be the event of the year. At least, according to your mother. 

“I never have fun at these things,” you protest as your maid finishes adjusting the bustle on your dress. She melts into the background while your mother continues to prattle on about how ‘marvelous’ it will be.

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ONLY FOOLS FALL FOR YOU. ( alhaitham x reader )

╰┈➤ some feelings came to haunt you after ten years since the last time you saw him.

pairings — alhaitham x fem!reader.

warnings — rivals / enemies to lover ish, slow burn, reader and alhaitham are in their middle twenties, reader has a pyro vision and is also a dancer and actress, reader is also the daughter of a genshin character, angst and a bit of fluff (happy ending of course but they're idiots in love).

word count — 8.1k

notes — june is back with another long fic for genshin! this one was supposed to be posted ages ago but i only had the time to do it now. i hope you guys will enjoy! reblogs and feedbacks are appreacited <3

lesser lord kusanali was a forbidden matter in your house, but you were sure she was the one who pushed you to be what you were today. 

being the daughter of the newest sage in sumeru had its perks, but you hated it. you hated the expectations everyone put on yourself, of how you should follow in your father’s footsteps and join the akademiya — everyone was sure you already had your vacancy there, with how important your father became in such a few moments after his promotion as a sage. but you never cared for scholar subjects, not in the way your two childhood friends did. 

alhaitham and kaveh had different interests, but they could enroll in the akademiya with no problem, because their line of study was actually respected by the sages and other scholars. yours, on the other hand, was looked down on and made fun of by every single one of your father’s, and him too, friends. as much as you tried not to look crestfallen when you heard them talking about the performers of the grand bazaar, alhaitham’s hand always managed to find yours when he was present in such gatherings — and you hoped that, when he wasn’t around, nobody would notice the change in your behavior. 

the arts were what called you: music, dancing, acting.

you could see yourself becoming a performer at the grand bazaar, dancing and acting for the honor of the dendro archon. the applause and excited screams of the audience were what you wanted to pursue, and not false wishes and the quietness of the akademiya. you thrived when alhaitham and kaveh, albeit forced by you, watched your makeshift plays about the archons and the dances you created in your head. you were aware they pitied you — kaveh with his dreams of being an architect and alhaitham’s love for all kinds of knowledge were much more suitable for sumeru city than your passions for the arts. 

that’s why you never expected them to support you in your decision of going against your father’s wishes to join the akademiya, and running away to the grand bazaar to join a theater troupe at the age of fifteen, inspired by a dream you had with the archon of your nation. 

it has been almost ten years, but you still remembered your father’s harsh words as if it had happened just yesterday — of how much of a disappointment you were for the family, how he would be able to explain to his peers and your future master that you decided to throw away the bright future it has been given to you, how ungrateful you were and how other people wished they were on your shoes. your mother remained quiet the whole time, but you never expected her support, too. she always agreed with everything your father used to say, almost brainwashed by the luxuries he displayed in front of her. in a way, she was, and the disappointed looks on their faces weren’t hurtful or a surprise for you. 

although, what hurt the most was alhaitham’s reaction. 

you had feelings from him ever since you knew what romantic love was, but they could never blossom into something more now, that you planned to run away from your home and probably never see your friends and family again. 

kaveh was aware of this too, being your confidant and best friend, trying to persuade you to not give up on everything — alhaitham and the akademiya, but you couldn’t pretend happiness in doing something you hated just because of feelings you didn’t even know if it was reciprocated. if alhaitham really liked you, he would respect your wishes and want your happiness before anything else.

it seemed like he didn’t, having the same reaction as your father — but his words were the ones who brought you to tears, his voice harsher and colder than you’ve ever heard growing up at his side, breaking your heart and cutting your skin like the blade he used to train. you almost gave up on your convictions and stayed in your home and went to the akademiya like your father wished, just to see him looking down at you with anything but the hatred dancing in his eyes. 

but you could not. not when lesser lord kusanali appeared to you in a dream, only to tell you to follow your dreams. you could not turn your back against your god and not do what she wished — she was the god of wisdom, and you trusted her judgment. 

and that’s why you turned your back to him, running away from your feelings for him and burying them in the deepest part of your heart. though, from time to time, you wondered what happened to him — did he and kaveh become scholars and follow their dreams just like yourself? how was the akademiya treating them? were they happy? had alhaitham found someone he loved more than his books? 

you knew such an answer would break your heart even more, but the agony of not knowing was much more worse. 

the grand bazaar welcomed you as if you were a lost daughter returning home after many years, and the zubayr theater became your new family. you were finally at the place you were destined to be, doing what you loved — captivating the audience with your movements and expression, bringing the toughest of men to his knees in broken sobs by your performances. the stage for you was like the library to the scholars of the akademiya, and you learned more and more every day you performed. 

you weren't alone there, having the company of nilou, your fellow dancer and actress who shared the same passion for the arts and love for the dendro archon, and, despite the age difference between the both of you, you two become fast friends — more than friends you came to notice one day, because the younger girl became like a little sister to you in just a few months of knowing each other. and you couldn’t be happier by following the words of lesser lord kusanali, thanking her every day for whispering her wisdom for you in your dreams. 

your days were spent rehearsing and performing, sometimes helping the merchants in the grand bazaar and planning more and more plays with your peers of the zubayr theater. it was like an act of resistance, almost, the performances you did — the people of sumeru were fond of the troupe’s plays, especially the children, and seeing the disapproval looks of the scholars were your fuel to not stop. 

it was supposed to be one of those days for you. a dance performance was scheduled in the treasures street, always buzzing with people due to its stalls and merchants, but today was different — you received the intel that a bunch of scholars would be wandering the area, probably for a case study of whatever the akademiya was planning. it was the perfect opportunity to show those arrogant scholars at least a glimpse of the wonders of the performing arts, and you couldn’t help but dress like greater lord rukkhadevata was described in the records you remembered reading as a child, just to spite the scholars even more.

probably for a case study of whatever the akademiya was planning. it was the perfect opportunity to show those arrogant scholars at least a glimpse of the wonders of the performing arts, and you couldn’t help but dress like greater lord rukkhadevata was described in the records you remembered reading as a child, just to spite the scholars even more. 

you winked at your musician, a teenage boy who held the same spite for the akademiya you did, starting your movements as soon as the sounds of the flute reached your ears. the flowing white sleeves and your long white and green skirt created a beautiful sight alongside the choreography nilou helped you to come up with, and the crowd’s cheers and boos didn’t reach your ears. whenever you were dancing, the outside world was shut down, your senses completely enveloped by the surrounding music. you moved as if you were made of water, a delicacy never seen before in the way your body spins. 

your eyes were kept close, as you didn’t wish for an unpleasant view to take your focus away. performing in the open was more difficult than in the grand bazaar — people there, at least, were also enjoyers of the arts. however, you couldn’t just ignore the call to show more people how the arts were a form of wisdom, too. 

the music ended, as well as your dance, and you bowed gracefully while opening your eyes to scan the crowd, the boos louder than anything else. but what was supposed to be a swift escape from the scholars and a few guards your vision managed to spot, was cut by a strong hold in your arm, dragging you away from your makeshift stage. too shocked to do anything else, you let yourself be pulled away from the crowd of scholars, their screams now louder that you were in the middle of them.

“take away this scum from our city, scribe!” 

your eyes, that were cast down to your feet, widened at such words. scribe was the title your father had before he became a sage, and, even though it didn’t make sense being him the one who was dragging you, your heart still raced with fear. though, when you had enough courage to look properly at your captor when you were a few meters away from the scholars, it was someone who you never thought of seeing again. 

those blue eyes, shining with the same rage it shone years ago, still haunted your dreams whenever you closed your eyes. 

“let go of me, alhaitham!” you managed to say, besides the lump in your throat. 

it was strange to see him, almost ten years after you left your house. alhaitham changed, of course — he was taller and more muscular, and his face was more sharp than it was before, now the face of an adult rather than a teenager’s one. his hair remained the same almost, only a bit shorter, but his eyes were still the ones you remembered from your childhood. you never forgot the exact shade of blue of them, of how the colors merged to create his pupils. they were mesmerizing, but it seemed that they would never look down at you with love on them once more.

“what were you thinking, y/n?” his voice was quiet but demanding, yet he didn't lose his composure, acting as if the rage in his words was nothing. “dancing in front of a crowd of people who hate the arts?” his grip on your arm tightened, and you couldn't find the same comfort you did as a teenager in his presence. 

you were angry, far angrier than you originally thought you would be if you saw him again, and sad — even though your heart still beat only for him. “i would have escaped, scribe. like i always did.” venom laced his new title, something so familiar yet foreign. it didn't suit him. he wasn't supposed to follow in your father's footsteps, as if he had replaced his own daughter with her friend. “i had a plan that was ruined by you.”

if the bitterness in your voice affected him, he didn't let it show on his face — but his grip around your arms softened, and you took that as your cue to get away from his touch. his presence alone was too intoxicating, clouding your senses and messing with your better judgment. 

little did you know, but you had the same effect on him. 

his closed fists weren't because of his rage, but from his urge to hold you between his arms once more — to feel your skin against his fingertips, to run his fingers in your hair and kiss your forehead, to hold you against his chest and tell you how many nights he was kept awake thinking about you. alhaitham was a coward and he was aware of it, knowing you were residing at the grand bazaar and not setting foot in the place, afraid of seeing you in the arms of another with no thought of yours being about him, like all of his were about you. 

“and what were you going to do? run away from all those scholars who were clearly offended by your choice of clothing?” he barked back, watching your eyes roll and your arms crossing on your chest. you were beautiful, wearing what the scholars believed were greater lord rukkhadevata's clothes back when she was alive. the color complimented your skin, and the flowing sleeves and skirts made your movements more graceful than alhaitham remembered them to be.

you scoffed. he was just like all the scholars you grew up to hate, arrogant and too confident in his abilities, and it hurt your heart to reach such a conclusion — that your first love was an akademiya scum. “i will not tell you.” you turned your back to him, starting to walk back to where you were, hoping that alhaitham would leave you alone to return home. but, the heavy sounds of his boots were your clue that he wouldn't leave you to your own company. “just let me return home.” you voice was quiet and full of hurt, small, just like alhaitham remembered it to be when your father would scold you. 

and he hated the fact that he was the one making you feel like that. 

however, he couldn't say sorry and leave you alone — he finally saw you after years of earning for such a meeting to happen and, even though he'd never admit that, he wanted to spend more time with you and know everything that happened in the years you were apart. he could always rely on the akasha to know such information, but things appearing on his mind would never have the same effect as hearing your voice. “you're defenseless. if your father knows that i didn't protect you, i'm a dead man by tomorrow morning.”

his words took you by surprise. “he made you promise this years ago. i'm sure that now he will be delighted if something happens to me.” you bit the inside of your cheeks to prevent the tears in your lashes from falling down, your head turned to the side so he couldn't see them. talking about your father was still a delicate subject for you — as much as you wanted to hate him for all the wrongs he said for you when you were fifteen, the loving and caring father that he was until that day arrived still plagued your thoughts. 

alhaitham shrugged. “i don’t care about him, i care about the promise i made, and i will not go back on my word.” you didn’t notice when you both stopped walking, but the gloved hand on your face, wiping the tears away while obligating you to look directly at his eyes, made your body be plagued by shivers and your cheeks to flush in a bright red color. 

he was the same alhaitham of your memories, wasn't he? the caring and kind, sometimes a bit too blunt, boy that you met alongside kaveh when you two were exploring the forest — his eyes were still the same, and even though they were now with different emotions than in the last time you saw them, his words still had the same painful effect they did once. did he still think that of you? that you were useless and a fool, that you had thrown away the brightest of futures to a life that wasn't worth it. your brows furrowed, and you got away from his grasp, missing the way his eyes shone with hurt at your rejection of his affection. 

but he would fight for you and he would gain your trust again, and alhaitham didn't care for the time this would take. he just wanted you back where you belonged — between his arms and in his life. 

— 

he stayed true to his word, even if you didn't know about them. all you knew was that he became a constant presence in all your performances, whenever they would be. he was the first person you saw when you opened your eyes after dancing in the honor of the dendro archon, the first person that congratulated you or the person who led you to safety when you decided to perform in front of scholars. 

it was annoying, at the beginning. alhaitham always had a critic to say, either being something about the music or the lighting — or even your partners in the performance, especially if they were men, saying that they didn't let you shine like he knew you could alone — but you knew that was his way of complimenting you. he has always been like that, too logical to know how to say a kind word instead of what you should do to make your performance better in the next time. it was almost endearing how he noticed the small details about your dance, like the way your hands moved or the sound your bracelets made when you clapped your hands. 

you both were from different worlds, but different worlds that completed each other in ways you never thought it would. the arts and the runes were almost like oil and water, but you and alhaitham made them mix it perfectly.

he also always made sure he was the one who left you at your room's door, perhaps to know that you were indeed safe, and you made the mistake of asking alhaitham if he wanted to come inside the third time he did that. 

it was already late in the night when your performance ended, that time at the the neighborhood with nilou, and you tried to argue with him that you didn't need his protection — everyone in the neighborhood knew who you are, and you knew how to fight and knew how to use your pyro vision to burn those who tried to harass you. and as much as he knew that, being the first victim of your vision, he still wanted you at his side. the question left your lips before you could think of it, the gossip that such an action would bring in the inn and in the grand bazaar long gone in your head. just like he wanted to make sure of your safety, you also wanted to make sure of his, too. 

you only had one bed, of course, you room enough only to fit one person living there. and as much as he tried to argue with you to let him sleep on the floor, you almost tied his wrists to your bed frame so he could sleep there, knowing that he wasn’t someone who slept much due to the nature of his job in the akademiya. but it seemed that your warmth was enough to make the akademiya's scribe to give up — you both fell asleep with a pillow between your bodies, but you woke up with his strong arms caging you to his chest and his face nuzzled in your neck. 

you didn’t dare to move, of course. you couldn’t know how alhaitham’s reaction to such an outcome would be, and the shallow breaths leaving his nostrils were proof enough that he was indeed awake, probably enjoying the few minutes of peace you and your house were granting him. you just nuzzled back on him, hearing him sighing and a pair of lips ghosting your cheek before his warmth left your bed. you only opened your eyes when you heard him moving around your small home. a few words were shared before he left to do his job, a small sandwich in his hands and the promise of seeing you again — though it took one week before that, in a setting that you wished was just a nightmare. 

—

zubayr theater had a performance scheduled in the grand bazaar, something that was proposed by you and nilou to bring attention to the place and help the merchants — every time a performance was announced in the city, all the eyes were directed to where it would be. children and women were always more open to the job you and your peers did, always enchanted by the dance moves and theatrics your troupe had to offer, while men and members of the akademiya always looked down with frowns whenever they attended one. you were still warming nilou to the fact that whenever the akademiya members didn’t like it, it meant you were in the right way. 

though, however, you never expected to see your father in the crowd. 

alhaitham stood proud at his side, though you could see that he was rather uncomfortable — in the short months you spent in his company again since you ran away, you learned what his lack of expression meant. it was just a mask you knew he developed in the years of studying in the akademiya, meant to deceive his peers into thinking that he was above them all, but you could see just by the way his eyes flicked to your form now and then that he wished he was anywhere but near your father. you didn’t know what prompted him to feel such discomfort, wondering if your father was now something more than just a sage in the akademiya, but you knew that you would never know.

you didn’t want to know. 

you just trying to ignore his presence in the crowd, his clothes as a sage almost in discrepancy inside the grand bazaar, focusing on the character you needed to portray — as always, the role of greater lord rukkhadevata belonged to you, while nilou was the goddess of flowers. it was a play about the birth of lesser lord kusanali, something that had always been wrapped in mystery to the common folk, and a great source for writers to romanticize and actors to give life to their plays. you were glad you were able to raise curiosity in the hearts of people about the birth of their god, though many of them were still disappointed with the new dendro archon’s lack of great doings. 

the performance ended with a round of applause by those who enjoyed it, and some looks of disapproval by those who did not. your eyes scanned the crowd until they found alhaitham’s, but the familiar soft and warm gaze he gave you whenever you ended a play wasn’t there — instead, you were met with cold and calculating eyes, and you didn’t know if he was behaving like that because of your father’s presence or if he finally was persuaded into seeing that you both were from different worlds and how bad it was. 

you tried not to be disappointed, nor make the pain in your heart be known by your colleagues, brushing nilou’s worried words with anxiousness — you gave a quick explanation about your father being in the crowd, and she seemed to buy it being the reason for the sadness in your eyes. 

after speaking with a few of your admirers, you excused yourself, feigning a bit of tiredness due to the preparations for the performance, smiling at the sight of the merchant’s tents filled with people — they weren’t many, but it was more than you were used to seeing every day. it was such small actions that made everything worthy of it, from running away from the safety of your family and the future your father chose for you to joining a theater troupe and changing your life in a way you only used to dream about, because you were sure you would never be able to help people if you were in the akademiya. 

you sighed, hearing rushed voices near your home. you didn’t want to spy on them, but as you recognized the voices to belong to your father and alhaitham, your curiosity took the best of you, hiding between a tree and some brushes. 

“i hope you are pleased with my job, grand sage.” 

that piqued your interest, hearing alhaitham calling your father by such a title, though your heart fell to your stomach. as much as you wanted to stay there and listen, something inside you told you to just run away and be ignorant — after all, ignorance was a blessing — because if you stayed, you would be heartbroken. 

the voice inside you proved to be right, alongside your father’s words.

“i am, indeed, pleased with your job, scribe alhaitham.” azar’s voice was just exactly how you remember it to be when you were growing up, authoritative and unkind. “it is good to get data about those performancers.” they weren’t so close but not too far, and you feared that if you did any abrupt movement your hiding spot would be found — but your fists clenched anyway, anger boiling in your blood by hearing such words. “especially my daughter. i do not want her to disturb any of the students with her foolish ideals. now, because of your help, we can stop her whenever she tries anything.” 

you tried not to let the tears that were pooling in your eyes to fall and give them the joy of making you cry after such knowledge, but the sadness inside you was stronger than any other resolution you had. alhaitham was just using you? all the time you two spent together, laughing and rebuilding your friendship, all the soft glances during late nights when he had accompanied you home, and hands brushing your cheek whenever he put a strand behind your ear while whispering goodnight — everything was just a lie for him? just a way for him to gather information about you and your peers to put on that damned akasha, for azar and the other sages to use against you and the other artists? 

and you had fallen for it like a puppy. 

you thought your childhood crush was something reciprocated, you really did, opening yourself to him like you did to no other man in your life. 

“i just did it to protect you.” 

his voice took you from your thoughts, your fists still clenched and your nails now draining blood from your palms. how could he? how could he lie so bluntly to you, feigning concern about you? “don’t try to excuse yourself, scribe.” you turned around to meet his eyes, finding them not like you thought they would be — emotionless and even with a bit of mockery shining on them, but they were hurt. 

because alhaitham never saw you looking so hurt and angry, not at himself. 

“i do not want to see you ever again.” 

you left him in the middle of the street with those words, his eyes following your shaking form until you were inside the safety of your house. alhaitham knew that you wouldn’t take his actions well, but he hoped you would never find out what he was doing — because he was, indeed, protecting you. if you did another performance near the akademiya, or near students that would report back to the sages, you would be exiled to the desert just like an insane scholar, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to save you from such a horrible fate. 

he sighed, starting to walk back in the familiar way to the akademiya, his heart the heaviest since you left him when you were teenagers. 

maybe he just needed to give you some time for yourself, while he pondered what he could do to make you forgive him. 

—

one month. 

one month since you last saw alhaitham, and you wished you could say that his actions made you hate him — but it didn’t. 

it took you a few days to be able to dance and act again, though your eyes always scanned the crowd in search of him. he was never there, and as much as you were the one who said you didn’t want to see him again, you were disappointed. if he did have feelings for you, would he really give up on you like that? it was beyond frustrating what you were feeling, because you couldn’t understand him or his actions — he really thought you would be fine with him using you to gather information for the akademiya, even if it was to protect yourself from the archons’ know what? 

and now he just gave up. why wasn't he fighting for you? 

or maybe you were wrong, again. maybe he didn’t have feelings for you like you thought he did, and he was really just using you and all the little signals were just a play. if that was the truth, he was a better actor than most people you knew — better than yourself. you would never be able to pretend to have feelings for someone if it wasn’t in a play and you weren’t a character. 

as much as you tried to not let your feelings interfere with your everyday life, almost everyone in the grand bazaar noticed that something was wrong. nilou was the first one, the first to notice how puffy and red your eyes were from crying the whole night after the incident with your father and him. though you didn't have the courage to tell her what happened — after all, the dreamy eyes she had whenever you and alhaitham were around, perhaps imagining having a lover like him, didn't pass unnoticed by you — she still knew something happened between the two of you, always offering her support when you needed it. the others were mostly like her, though not as close to you to express their worry verbally. 

you lived your life the same it was before you met alhaitham after all those years, though it was harder now. before, his rejection to your young love was just a ghost, something that you would never know — now, however, it was a tangible thing, a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you still searched for his presence in your crowds. 

you would never learn that oil and water would never mix perfectly, just like you would never learn you and alhaitham would never have meant to be. 

that was what kept your shattered heart together, the glue holding all the pieces as thin as the air, and such a fact you came to know when kaveh visited you on a rainy day. you weren't expecting his visit, of course, the day uneventful due to the weather. you were teaching a bunch of little girls some of your favorite dance moves after they came to you when you spotted a tuft of blonde hair adorned with a blue feather and a pair of red eyes that you would always remember as warm. 

though kaveh's reappearance didn't shake you up like alhaitham's, his words were far more worrisome.

after a long awaited shared hug between two old friends and some pleasantries coming from both of your mouths, kaveh broke the news, his red eyes shining with a worry you never saw before in them — in fact, you did, on the day you ran away from your father. “i know something happened between you and alhaitham.” he started, his hands on your shoulders holding you at your place.

“kaveh…” you tried, not wanting to hear anything about him. what was kaveh going to say to you? that he was miserable and not himself, because of something he did? it wasn’t fair to you. 

he sighed, already in tune with your mannerisms again — you always said you two were platonic soulmates, knowing everything about each other from the top to bottom, being able to communicate with just your eyes. “i’m not here to play his advocate, far from it. i do not know what happened, as he did not tell me, but,” his grip on your shoulders tightened a bit, as if he was trying to prepare you for what was coming. “he was assigned a mission by the sages almost a month ago. a very dangerous one that i was against him going, you see, but the whole situation with you probably made him more prone to accept it. and…” 

“...and?” you heart was beating fast inside your rib cage, faster than you ever remembered it beating. a lot of scenarios were playing in your head, and all of them were worse than the other. 

“and he was severely injured.” the world around you was spinning, as if the air wasn’t enough to make the blood go to your lungs, making everything dizzy — but you could see the worry on his face. as much as kaveh pretended to hate alhaitham, you knew that deep down he cared about him, and vice-versa. “he is alright now, y/n, he’s being treated in the akademiya’s infirmary now.” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, tears now glossing kaveh’s handsome features. 

“why are you telling me this?” such a question was eating you alive. you knew kaveh’s nature wasn’t a cruel one, but what he wanted to achieve with giving you this acknowledgement? 

“you’re still so impatient.” he chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with mirth like you remembered it to be. “alhaitham was probably going through some fever illusions and he… he kept calling in your name. in a pained way, saying that he couldn’t die before seeing you again.” you heart skipped a beat at your friend’s confession, even more tears glossing your vision now. alhaitham didn’t have this right, the right to break your heart and transform into dust and then made it whole again. 

you felt kaveh’s soft fingers caressing your cheeks, wiping the tears away, the beating of your heart more erratic than ever. “can i see him?” the question left your lips before you could think twice, the idea of him dying hurting more than your broken heart. 

kaveh laughed. “i was going to ask you that.” 

—

in the way to the akademiya, kaveh told you what happened. 

he narrated how he noticed something was off with alhaitham a day when he came back unexpectedly earlier to their house. he was used to finding his roommate with a permanent scowl on his face, but he seemed defeated — his scowl wasn’t the arrogant one that alhaitham always displayed on his face, but something akin to sadness and frustration. kaveh didn’t dare to ask what happened, already knowing what his friend was going to say, so he left the matter behind, deeming it to be problems in his job. during the week, alhaitham closed himself off in the house of daena, as if the books could cure whatever was making him so strange, until he came back home one day, gathering his essential things in a small bag and leaving for a confidential mission for the grand sage. 

kaveh only heard about alhaitham again two days ago, when he returned to their home bloodied and weak, and he took him to the infirmary — his wounds were more severely than kaveh thought they were, and while he was in the room to watch the amurta students taking care of him, he heard him muttering your name. 

“y/n… i can’t die… her… love… sorry… y/n…” those were the words kaveh told you alhaitham had whispered while he was in agony, probably delirious from either pain or fever. your heart broke even more knowing about this, your feet almost running straight to the infirmary, even though you didn’t know the way there — it wasn’t easy to sneak you in the akademiya, but the raining day meant that a lot of scholars weren’t lurking around, ready to see one of them with a performer from the grand bazaar, and you managed to infiltrate the place where all wisdom was created. 

kaveh led you to alhaitham’s room, in a wing full of patients who were labeled as having delicate cases, and you wondered what was the mission alhaitham agreed to go. did he went on it because he wanted, or because he was pressured to go? or he used this opportunity to forget about you, risking his life in the process? you couldn’t bear the idea of being the reason why he accepted such a dangerous mission and risked his life for nothing. 

but alhaitham was stubborn, and even if you asked, he would never tell you. 

parting ways with kaveh with a hug, you slowly entered the room your childhood friend was being treated in, careful to not make so much noise and awake him — kaveh told you he had been unconscious since he arrived, but you didn’t want to disturb him. what if he hated you now? what if he saw you as the culprit of the state he was in, and now was the one who didn’t want to see you? though his feverish words said otherwise, you were still nervous, like you felt whenever you were about to start a performance. 

the room was beautiful, just like everything in the akademiya, with a big window that you thought was supposed to make sunlight fill the room, and some medical instruments around it. but it was plain too, with white and green walls and a bed and some nightstand and a loveseat near the bed, probably for a companion. 

you made your way to the bed, your steps as light as a feather falling in the ground, afraid that you could awaken him and disturb his recovery. you just wanted to see him, see if he was well, and then leave — you didn’t know how your reaction would be if you saw him with open eyes, probably too overwhelming to see who just got away from lady death’s grasp.

alhiatham looked peaceful, you noticed as soon as you sat on the bed. 

he had no frown adorning his features, and he looked much more healthy than you thought he would — he wasn’t pale and his skin was glowing, even if his face had some small bruises which were decorating his handsome face with a tint of purple. he looked so young, just like the boy you had fallen in love while growing up, and it hurt. it hurt to see him like this and to think what your relationship became just because of the prejudice of your father and the scholars. 

you wanted nothing more than to caress his face and kiss his pain away and, before you could think straight, your fingers were already ghosting his cheekbones, going down to his lips and his bruises, feeling his warm skin underneath your fingertips and sighing contently feeling his breath tickling your skin. it was good to know that he was alive and well, and after making sure of that, you retracted your hand back to rest in your lap and knew you were ready to go back to the grand bazaar — would he come after you after his recovery? would he tell you what he was whispering in his agony? 

though, before you could leave his bed and the room, alhaitham’s hand grabbed yours, making a surprised gasp to leave your lips. 

“don’t go…” his voice was rough and raw, strange on his body after two days of not using it. “i do not know if this is a fever dream or not,” he opened his eyes, blinking it to make sure you weren’t a hallucination. “but don’t leave me again, y/n.” 

you smiled, a few tears going down on your cheeks. “i promise, alhaitham.” the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his cupped his cheek, and you leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “go back to sleep, alright? i will be here when you wake up again.” 

he nodded, like a small child, closing his eyes again. 

—

alhaitham knew people from sumeru couldn’t dream, but why did your lips on his forehead felt so real? 

he groaned, the pain on his chest more than just a physical pain. it hurt to know that his brain and heart craved your presence so much that he dreamed about you — was the dendro archon giving him a bit of solace before he came to face the consequences of his actions? he knew he wasn’t supposed to fight a machine monster all by himself, even though he was strong enough to do so, but such a mechanical being wasn’t like the ones he faced before, and he needed to get that capsule of divine knowledge back. 

alhaitham thought that perhaps he could redeem himself in your eyes, if he managed to help sumeru and its people somehow.

he got the capsule back, but almost lost himself to it. he didn’t understand how he managed to arrive at his house before collapsing in pain and loss of blood, the journey home being filled with fever dreams of you and what could’ve happened between you both if he was more open about his feelings, if he wasn’t a coward and had fought for you. 

but now the past was in the past, and alhaitham couldn’t do anything to change. he could only bask in what his imagination could give him — the softness of your fingers on his face, the sweetest kiss of your lips and its warmth on his skin, the honey laced promise you made him. it would hurt more than any of his bruises the fact that he would wake up alone in such a cold room, with you being so far away from him. 

though the sound of footsteps gave him the idea he wasn’t alone. “close the curtains, kaveh, for the archon’s sake.” he muttered, turning around to not be graced with the sun rays on his face. 

the sound of a feminine giggle made him furrow his eyebrows, a sound so sweet that he was sure he was still in a fever dream — the last time he heard your giggles was a day before you discovered what he was doing, laughing at his complaints about kaveh. your smile and your laugh were his fuel to keep fighting that mechanical being, the idea of seeing you happy again enough for him to keep going. 

“if you want me to call kaveh, just say it.” you voice was laced with mirth, and a bit of concern, totally different from the cold and filled with rage tone you used the last time alhaitham saw you. it was almost comforting the way you seemed more at ease at his presence, though he knew he owed you an apology. 

he scoffed. “never.” he turned around once again, opening his eyes to find you sitting on the love seat near his bed. “hi.” he whispered while he watched you walking towards him, all the words dying on his throat at the sight of you. 

it was funny how he always had a witty remark to anything said to him, but never to you. your presence made his brain foggy and disoriented, all his thoughts revolving around you. he was just a useless star that couldn’t help but be attracted and circle around you, the sun, that gave warmth to everyone else. 

“hi.” you whispered back, your hands fumbling in your lap, as if you didn’t know what to do with them. “how are you feeling?” your voice had a tenderness that alhaitham knew he didn’t deserve coming from you. he’d never deserve your love or your kindness, something so pure and beautiful, even though you might think otherwise. 

he tried to chuckle, trying to ease the worry in your brow. “i’ve seen better days.” as much as he wanted to ask why and how you were there, alhaitham wasn’t brave enough to break the blissful bubble you both were in. he was afraid that his words would turn a switch inside you, that you would graze your eyes upon him with the same rage it was filled in the last time he saw you, that your fists would shake and your lip tremble with unshed tears — the love struck and kind look your eyes had was so much better than the fresh of you in his mind.

“i can imagine.” tentatively, you cupped his bruised cheek, fingers gently caressing his skin. he leaned into your touch, a relieved sigh leaving his lips at your display of affection — he was undeserving yes, but alhaitham was selfish and arrogant, and he would never back away from it. yet, the shadow of what happened and the questions from both of your hearts hovered above your forms. “i…” you seemed braver than him, trying to get the acknowledged that would soothe or break your heart even more, but alhaitham couldn’t let you be the one to start — he cut you by trying to get up, indulging your smaller hand on his, the bandages preventing your skin to touch, much to his chagrin. 

“let me speak first, y/n. i was the one at fault in the first place.” he watched as you nodded, body coming closer to him, your smell clouding his senses and the only thought in his head was kissing your lips until they were red and raw, seeing you beneath him with red cheeks and disheveled hair. “i know you do not believe me, but i was protecting you when giving information about your troupe to your father.” at the mention of the grand sage, your face became sour — though now more hurt than angered, and alhaitham knew such a change of feeling was good. “you were going to be exiled to the desert, my love.” the term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you, your cheeks becoming hot at the possessive form before it. 

you were his. 

“i was desperate. i had only found you after being an incognito in my life for almost ten years.” his grip on your hand tightened, and alhaitham sighed. “i’m not asking you to forgive me so easily, but do not look at me with that rage again.” he pleaded, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing your knuckles, his warm lips caressing your skin as if he was worshiping a goddess. “my heart is yours to do whatever you want, and i will endure it, but don’t deny me seeing the love in your eyes be corrupted by such a horrible feeling.” 

alhaitham closed his eyes, taking your hand to rest over his chest, ready for your rejection. 

“why did you accept this mission?” your voice was quiet, and your words totally different from what his mind told him what they were going to be. “i thought… i thought you had only used me, alhaitham.” your reveal wasn’t a total surprise for him, because he knew his actions were misleading. 

“i guess i just wanted to forget what i made you feel.” he admitted, arms coming to wrap around you and bring your body to rest on his chest. it hurt, because his wounds were still fresh, but that was where you belonged. you fitted perfectly between his arms, your face hid in the warmth of his neck and his head resting above yours, your bodies almost melting into each other and becoming one. 

his arms tightened around your form when he felt your body shake and his neck wet by your tears. he didn’t try to pry, though his heart ached with your quiet sobs, but he knew you would talk when you were ready — the only thing he could offer now was physical comfort, and even though alhaitham thought he was the worst person to give any kind of comfort, but it was you. you always made his best traits to shine, and the worst ones to become less bad.

after some time, your sobs quieted down and your body stopped to shake, and your voice filled his ears. “you really hurt me, alhaitham.” you were using a scolding tone, as if he had done something bad but something redeemable. “i’ve been in love with you since we were children, and you doing that…” 

“you were in love with me since we were children?” his shocked voice made you giggle, your body adjusting so you were straddling him, hands cupping his cheeks and noses touching. alhaitham’s cheek were tinted with red, a sight that you never saw before but something so mesmerizing that you wanted it belonged to eternity — his eyes were lidded, pupils wide with a mix of love and lust, his hand gripping your hips to bring you even closer to you. 

another giggle left your lips when he kissed a spot near your lips. “for being the akademiya’s scribe, you’re a bit stupid, my beloved.” you managed to say before his lips were attacking yours, in a kiss that — even though it was delayed for ten years — was the testimony of his endless love for you. 

Dr. Doofensmirtz really went from fighting a platypus to fighting real heroes-

Why is there an anime version of dr doofensmirtz in my hero academia im so confused

i feel like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle

this post was too powerful for me as a filipina help i'm crying

oi wow a Filipina writer?!! eeep! Please may i request a headcaon with Izuku, Denki, Iida, Bakugo, Sero, Aizawa and Kirishima from my hero with a filipina gf. Maraming salamat po (/-3-)/

✥︎ izuku midoriya; denki kaminari; tenya iida; katsuki bakugou; hanta sero; shouta aizawa; ejirou kirishima || m.list || mha.list

genre: fluff || type: headcanon

warnings: slight swearing

a/n: Ha 😌 Oo Filipino writer po ako (yes I’m a Filipino writer)

Okay hear me out!! Deku is definitely the type of boyfriend that any pinoy household would love.

He's sweet like super. He'll help his girlfriend's mom do dishes or help walis (broom) the house.

He knows basic basic tagalog. I have this headcanon that his filipina girlfriend would definitely have taught him some phrases. yes swears definetly, but no like basic basic phrases.

i.e. "mabuti po ako." (i'm good) "salamat po." (thank you) and what type of boyfriend would he be if he didn't know how to say I love you? "Mahal kita"

Okay we all know he has manners that's just a given. So that also means not only would he use "po" he would also use proper honorifics when addressing ones older than him.

"Mano Po" yes he would do this.

When his girlfriend’s cousin or siblings who are much younger than Deku call him kuya Izuku (big brother Izuku) he’d be really surprised when they’d use that certain honorific. He’d probably get emotional.

I feel like he would really like one of the classic Filipino foods; adobo.

preferably chicken, cuz that shit slaps.

Karaoke? He'd be really nervous.

But with the bisitas (visitors) are around helping hype him up, he'd start really quiet. But he's got confidence.

His voice is like Erik Santos. please I love him falksjfue.

And what’s Filipino culture without a barong? (a traditional top male Filipinos wear mostly on special events)

I feel like Denki’s girlfriend would accidentally make him a swagapino.

Just saying. He’d be an honorary member of the swagapinos.

Like Deku he’d have common respect for his elders and would of course would do the “Mano po” however he’d forget at times and just hug them as a way to great his elders.

He knows all the swears because those were the only one that stayed in his head. Either that the word tubig (water) just because it sounds like too big.

He’s the type that would seem to get along with his girlfriend’s pinsan (cousin) or mga pinsan (cousins).

And they’d be constantly calling him ‘Kuya Denki’ (Big Brother Denki) and he loves it. He’d feel a sense of authority of validation. Like hell y’a I’m their kuya

This man doesn’t eat the traditional dishes and would rather go straight to desert. However ‘chicken joy’ from Jolibee is an exception.

As far as desserts go he’d love his halo-halo or the pandan cakes made by ™️ Regent.

However he’d be like the one to awkwardly laugh when his girlfriend’s Titos/Titas/Lolas/Lolos (uncles,aunts,grandmas,grandpas) tell him to keep eating more.

“Pist Denki try this.” “Hoy, Denki try ito. (this)”

When it’s karaoke time he’s got confidence and all the bisitas including the lolos at lolas (grandpas and grandmas) are wowed by his confidence.

He’d have almost the same voice as Jed Madela or something.

Denki in a barong? I think yes

We’re heading straight to karaoke I don’t care.

He’d have an angelic voice like Ray Valera idc idc idc.

Please all the Titos and Titas (aunts and uncles) at the party/gathering is all so impressed and would be like *eye widen jaw drop* then loud cheers as he scores a 98 on the karaoke.

Tenya in a barong.

God the power that holds.

It’s so dangerous.

He’s your typical sinigang man. He’d absolutely be in love with that dish of food.

I feel like if he were to eat a dessert he’d really love taho.

As a boyfriend of a filipina he’d be respected by everyone elders and the younger.

He would do the “mano po” and would use honorifics to address his elders.

Okay one of my parents is from the Philippines province Bicol.

And so my household eats this one dish called “bicol express” and it’s basically a creamy spicy dish. It consist of pork cooked in coconut milk with some amounts of shrimp paste, but Bicol Express isn’t Bicol express if it doesn’t numb your mouth so there’s like a shit load of chiles. However the thai peppers are usually the most common used.

Anyways I say this because Bakugo would most definitely eat that type of food. And honestly that shits bussin’ please it’s soo good.

Anyways listen he’s not the type to respect ones older than him sometimes, however if it’s with his girlfriend’s parents he’d keep his cool. I mean he’s got to.

The moment pinoy fathers find out his daughter is date someone like Bakugo he’d flip.

Bakugo is actually not that bad of a singer and would probably sound like Francis Maganola. Idk why.

Anyways if his girlfriend has cousins or little ones in her family you bet he’d be called Kuya. And he holds pride in that.

Headcanon if they forgot to say Kuya when addressing he’d be like listen here you piece of shit -

Jokes, but he’d be like giving them the death stare.

Bakugo in a barong = serotonin

He’s an Otso Otso god.

Vocal god.

That Titas and Lolas are like awed by his vocals.

His voice gives me J.R.A vibes so like no wonder why.

He’d love his bulalo. That shits a yes for me. So good idc

He lowkey wouldn’t know how to use a tabo.

The Titos love him. Idk why? But he gives me that vibe.

This man would definitely have dates with his girlfriend at like Seafood city or something like that.

Aizawa gives me the same vibes as the current lead singer of Journey. Arnel Pineda.

Why? I don’t know

He just does.

He’s your classic taho lover.

When he gets the chance or if his girlfriend is craving Filipino stuff, but doesn’t want to go see her parents you bet Aizawa would take her to like Chow King.

He’d look smexy in a barong. Idc what people say.

He’s got manners, but more lowkey.

If he were to be introduced to his girlfriend’s parents he’d be a nervous wreck in the inside especially knowing how ‘scary’ they were portrayed by from his girlfriend’s stories that she told about them.

If his girlfriend misses some certain dishes you beat his girlfriend would teach him how to cook some of her favorite dishes.

LMAO he’d be able to eat balut. Please bruh I can’t eat that.

He watches Filipino tela-novelas

Please I can see him to be the type if you teach him some words in Tagalog he’d be the type to make corny jokes about them.

“Hey y/n is your ass is made out of water?”

Then you’re like “ano? (What)” And he goes “cuz your ass us tubig.”

And you wouldn’t know if you should throw pairs of tsinelas (flip flops) at him or tell him to shut it.

He’d probably be turned into a swagapino, but nothing like Denki. He’d be more on the lowkey scale.

The younger ones would address him as Kuya Kiri and everytime they do his heart goes boom.

He’d adore being called kuya and would hold a certain pride to it.

At parties he’s definitely trying all the food. He’d love his egg rolls with a side of Jollibee spaghetti.

Karaoke? Yeah <3

He’d lowkey sound like Bamboo Manalac.

If he wanted he could actually mimic him. If he wanted.

his shadow

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

cw: pro hero au, bakugou n reader are both pro heroes, gender neutral reader, mention of death, self-depreciation, angst- so much angst, but there’s comfort too !!

analysis: you mess up on the job, and you mess up badly. and even though bakugou tries to help you find solace, you’ll never be as good as him—always in his shadow.

an: i almost wrapped this up with a sad ending so you’re lucky i changed my mind.. i got too emotional and decided to end it with comfort,, enjoy everyone !!

———

anyone who knew bakugou knew that he’d make a name for himself. and he has—he’s one of the top pro heroes in japan who prides himself on his work he does. the center of the stage, with the spotlight on him. it’s like he was destined for greatness.

and somehow, you had gotten swept along.

loving katsuki isn’t the easiest thing to do. he’s a little rough around the edges and emotionally constipated. that, paired with the dangerous work you both do.

yes, you’re also a pro hero. not as well known as bakugou, a little low on the charts, but you’re satisfied with the job—saving people is the most important thing above all.

despite all these trials, you made it work. loving him isn’t easy, but it’s enough. you smooth out his roughness and teach him the tender things of life. he shows you a side that makes your heart flutter.

you have katsuki all to yourself at times. his vulnerability, his love, his everything—the way he holds you with gentle hands that he uses everyday to defeat villains and criminals.

and yet, the oh so great explosion murder god dynamight is someone who people marvel and fawn over for sure, no matter what. that’s out of the question. and with his spotlight, he also casts an unbearable shadow.

a shadow you drown in.

the brightness of your laptop is glaring at you. a stupid news article is displayed on your screen; its bold headliner words are simple but taunting, mocking.

DYNAMIGHT’S PRO HERO SPOUSE FAILS TO SAVE THREE LIVES DURING CONSTRUCTION ACCIDENT.

fuck.

it had been a slip, a mistake. you hadn’t judged the falling of the debris as fast as you should’ve, you hadn’t heard the last desperate cry of the workers at least once. the article is right, so right that it’s unbearable. you had failed.

those people counted on you to save them and you had failed them and their families. it’s all your fault, undoubtedly, and all eyes are on you because of it.

the awful, creeping feeling of guilt is making your head spin. but the words of the headline make it even worse. dynamight’s spouse. this isn’t the first time news reports use that title instead of your actual hero name, or your name in general. it’s always dynamight’s this, dynamight’s that. dynamight’s side piece. dynamight’s.

you don’t mind being bakugou’s. you’re his and he’s yours.

but his shadow swallows you whole until there’s nothing left. absolutely nothing left, and until you’re nothing without him. you’re nothing without bakugou katsuki, without dynamight in the hero world.

his shadow arches over your accomplishments and feeds your failures—you’d never be as great as him, wouldn’t be worthy enough for him just like this article title says. you’d never meet his standard, his greatness that comes with even a mention of his name. you had failed for god’s sake.

the sound of the front door opening abruptly yanks you out of your.. thoughts. they don’t go away though, whispering and hissing at the back of your mind. you quickly close and shut down your laptop as you hear footsteps approaching.

katsuki’s voice breaks the air. “babe? where are you?” you’ve been with him long enough to read his tone. he knows what happened. he knows and you know he’s going to talk about it. bakugou never avoids things, especially things like this.

you don’t answer him, leaving him to find you seated at the dining table. his footsteps falter as you meet his gaze, and for some reason, he looks relieved to see you there. you can tell he changed at his agency in a hurry, casual clothes all rumpled and wrinkled.

he reaches you, one of his hands cradling your cheek carefully. “i heard what happened.” yep, straight to the point. “are you okay?” you don’t know if he means physically or mentally. his eyes roam over you for any injuries in a brief manner.

it takes a while for you to answer, struggling to simply look at him in the eye. “..no.” you decide to be truthful. besides, it’d be a blatant lie if you had said yes. “i’m not okay,” you admit delicately.

bakugou, in his time of courting and falling in love with you, has learned how to comfort you in his own way. his thumb brushes over the skin of your cheek before he has both of his hands holding yours. “talk to me.”

you let out a soft, shaky exhale. “i.. i don’t know what to say, katsuki. what can i say?” shit, it hurts. the guilt is eating up at your insides, digging its way into your heart, and your voice cracks. “i failed, katsuki.”

bakugou doesn’t hesitate to drag one of the dining table chairs closer to yours and sits close to you, knees pressed against yours as he holds your hands more firmly. “hey, hey. listen to me.”

it’s then you realize that your hands are trembling. fuck. you try to steady them, studying the way his warm palms fit against yours, how his fingers are calloused but gentle.

“look at me,” he says softly, and you meet his eyes of red, unprepared. what was he gonna say to you? now, bakugou is hardly the jerk he was in his middle and high school days, and you’ve been with him for many years, but for once, you fear what he’d say. would he scold you, demean you? he has the right to anyway; failure grants that.

“mistakes..” you can tell that by the reluctance in bakugou’s voice that he’s choosing his words very carefully, “mistakes happen.”

“i-” your voice cracks again. “we can’t afford to make mistakes, katsuki! especially in this line of work- you know that! those- they were people!” your face feels warm with sudden tears. “and i just-! and i just let them die!”

you feel his hands tighten their grip and his mouth opens to say something.. and yet nothing comes out. in all of his years of being a pro hero, of all the challenges he’s faced in his life, for once—it looks like he doesn’t know what to say.

you inhale sharply, yanking away from his hold. when you stand, the chair scrapes uncomfortably against the floor. you know he’s trying, but fuck, it’s suffocating to breathe.. especially with him so close.

“i’m sorry, katsuki. i’m so sorry.” you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for right now. for not saving those people? for being a pathetic excuse for a hero? for not being a good enough person to stand by bakugou’s side? maybe all of the above. “i can’t- i just-”

and he’s standing right there with you, familiar furrow in his brow as he holds out his hands again. you can tell he wants to touch you, hug you, but you take a step back warily.

“you knew what you were getting into when you decided to become a pro hero,” he tells you. an attempt of being understanding, but it doesn’t help at all. “we can’t save everyone.”

but he can, a voice mocks, dynamight can. dynamight always wins.

“but you can!” you let your thoughts slip out with a wail. you wipe at your eyes with frustration, wishing you weren’t crying right now. you’ve had your vulnerable moments with katsuki before, but right now, you feel so weak. and you don’t want to look weak in front of him. “dynamight can! but me?”

judging by how his eyes widen, you see he’s a bit bewildered by the sudden change of the conversation being focused on him. the insecurity is as clear as day in your voice and you wish it weren’t.

his shadow is overwhelming.

“i’m- i’m nothing compared to you, katsuki! japan knows it!” a sob escapes your throat after that. “hell, even the world knows it! dynamight’s pro hero spouse-” you can’t finish it. you can’t finish it because another sob rings through the air and your heart hurts.

suddenly, you’re warm, and you’re blinking your tears into the fabric of katsuki's shirt, his broad arms wrapped around you tightly in an embrace so that you can’t move even if you tried.

“shut up.”

it’s whispered so brokenly into your ear, and it sounds almost as if katsuki’s on the verge of crying too. “please, shut up,” he murmurs, clinging onto you like you’d disappear right before his eyes. “don’t- don’t say that about yourself. don’t.”

if there’s one thing that can make you even guiltier than you already are, it’s making katsuki cry. even with the softer interior of bakugou you’ve come to see in the past years, he doesn’t cry often, and certainly not because of you. the sniffles he hides into your shoulder are the last thing that crumbles your heart.

“katsuki, i…”

he pulls back to lock your gazes, tears blurring. his red eyes are so pretty, always has been, even if they are crying right now. they blaze with a sudden fierceness, a sudden desperation that makes you listen.

“i married you because i love you. because you’re enough for me, do you hear that? no one, nothing, is going to change that—no articles, no accidents, nothing. so do not go telling me, do not go telling yourself, that you’re not worthy enough for me. that you’re not worthy enough of being a pro. you’re enough.”

katsuki’s words stun you into silence; they knock the breath out of your lungs and has your sobbing cease with a gasp. his eyes are burning into you and you hear him. you hear him and his heart.

you’re still crying. the tears are warm on your face and you don’t flinch when he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe them away. “you’re enough, baby. all of you.”

with those words, he also wipes the insecurities and doubts away. not all of them, but they crawl and scurry out of your mind, chased out by katsuki’s love and his warmth.

you sniffle then, burying your head into his neck and letting yourself realize that you’re enough for pro hero dynamight, for bakugou katsuki. that you’re enough for the world, mistakes and all.

and that maybe.. maybe you can learn how to stand outside of his shadow.

Shoto Todoroki x F! Reader. (Sometimes we just need a little reinsurance)

Fluff, Comfort, Fluffy February, Short Ramble

Try Again

"Do you like me?" You muttered against his rising chest. Shoto pulled his attention away from the actors on the television. "Yes," He bluntly replied.

"I mean- like- why?" You sat up, straddling his lap. Shoto sighed, his fingers brushing over your plush thighs. Shoto adjusted himself up on the headboard.

His hand cupped your cheek before bringing your lips close to his. Shoto's tongue darts over your bottom lip. Your heart overheats, overflowing into the rest of your circulation.

The noise escaping from the TV became blurry static as the kiss consumed your attention. Words that couldn't be said in any language was spelled with each of Shoto's movement. One thumb rubbed your cheek and the other digging into your hip.

The kiss soon slowed, leaving you panting. "I like you" Shoto kissed down your neck. Small purple bruises trail down your shoulder blade and to your wrist. "Everything about you"

Shoto interjected before you could question him. His lips came back up to your neck. "I love you" He wrapped his arms tightly over your body.

Hitoshi Shinso - Not Alone

Here's another Shinso story for you guys!!!

I hope you guys like some angsty fluff!

Enjoy!!!!!

Shinso opened the door to your apartment and found it very odd that it was unlocked. You never leave your apartment unlocked. With furrowed brows, he walks in on alert. The lights in the apartment are off and everything is quiet.

"Kitten?” he calls out as he flicks a light on.

He gets no response.

He ventures farther into your home and continues calling out for you.

After looking in the kitchen and the living room, a small sniffle catches his attention, causing Shinso to hurry towards the bedroom, turning on the light.

There, in the middle of your mattress, was you. Eyes red, nose plugged, and tears streaking down your cheeks.

Alarmed, Shinso drops his bag and crawls onto the bed next to you.

"What's wrong, kitten?" he asks while he scans your body for physical harm.

You only sob in reply as you wipe the tears from your face, finally realizing that he's next to you.

"T-Toshi?" you ask blearily.

Your vision swims and all you see is a blotch of indigo among white. Rubbing your eyes again, you're able to see him clearly. Upon seeing him clearly you try to give a smile, but it doesn't last very long. Seeing this, Shinso opens his arms for you, and you immediately enter his embrace.

As Shinso holds you in his embrace, he feels your body wrack with sobs as you start crying again. He rubs your back comfortingly, just letting you cry for a minute.

"What happened?" he murmurs into your ear as he continues to rub your back comfortingly.

“M-My friend, (friend name)...” you choke out.

Pulling back from him, you look up at Shinso and inhale a deep, shuddery breath. "I-I just... don't understand how they could be gone... T-They were such a-a huge part of m-my life and n-now they're g-gone..." you stutter out.

Shinso's lips purse at your reply.

Heartbreak isn't an easy thing to deal with...

"Oh, love." he coos as he wipes the tears from your cheeks as they fell.

"It's alright kitten." he soothes as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I-I just can't b-believe they're g-gone T-Toshi..." you mumble against his chest.

"I know love, I know." Shinso soothes again, rubbing your back comfortingly and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I cared about them so much... I loved them so much... L-like a sibling..." you say as you grip onto Shinso's shirt for dear life.

"I-I don't e-even kn-know if I ever t-told them that..."

Shinso takes you by the shoulders, gently pulling your face away from him again. He looks down at you with a soft expression on his face as fat tears well up in your eyes.

You blink causing them to roll down your cheeks.

Shinso's thumb immediately brushed them away as he holds you in his arms.

Your voice cracks when you begin to speak again. "My heart hurts so much... Please make it stop hurting Hitoshi..."

"I just want to back to before everything happened..."

Shinso's heart breaks at your pleas. He wishes that he could take away the pain you felt. He looks at you, clearly an empty shell of your former self.

"I can't do that, kitten." He says, pulling you close to shelter you from the world and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. "I can't take the pain away, but I can be here to help put you back together."

You grip his shirt as if he would be the next person to disappear.

"I feel so alone..." you whimper hollowly.

The fatigue from this situation is catching up to you and settling in your bones. You want nothing more than to wake up refreshed and discover that this whole situation had all been a nightmare. To wake up and find your friend alive and well.

"You're not alone." Shinso says to you gently.

"I can't even begin to replace them, but I love you. What can I do to help?"

At his question, you stop and think for a moment before your stomach growls loudly in response.

Shinso's lavender eyes narrow at the noise. "When was the last time you ate?"

You chew on your lip, averting your eyes from his probing gaze. Taking care of yourself hasn't been that high of a priority recently... The grieving process has overwritten all other needs and hopelessness and despair made sure that you haven't left your bedroom all day.

"Kitten." Shinso prompts.

"It's been a while..." you admit sheepishly.

Shinso hums at your words before taking you in his arms again, putting one arm under your knees and the other around your back.

You look at him in confusion as you wrap your arms around his neck so that you don't fall.

"Toshi? What are you-?" You begin to ask but he cuts you off as he carries you out of the bedroom and to the living room.

He sets you down on the couch. “I’m going to make you food.”

Your posture relaxes and you nod in reply, agreeing that getting some food in your stomach will be good for you.

"I'll be back." he tells you gently as he kisses you on the forehead before exiting the living room and entering the kitchen to make some dinner for the 2 of you.

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

After about 10 minutes of sitting on the couch, just relaxing, you decide to go to the bathroom and wash up before dinner. You get up from the couch, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

You let out a long, tired sigh as you turn to the bathroom mirror. As you look at your reflection, you grimace slightly. Your eyes are red and puffy, your skin is dry, your hair is greasy and unkempt and the dark circles under your eyes look like bruises and rival Shinso’s own eye bags.

Maybe after dinner you'll take a shower.

------

After washing your hands, you exit the bathroom and head back into the living room. As you walk past the kitchen, the scent of frying bread hits your nose, causing you to drool slightly.

You walk over to the kitchen door, seeing Shinso standing in front of the stove. You smile at the sight of him before you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his midsection.

You hear him chuckle softly as you nuzzle you face into his back.

"Food will be ready in a minute." he says to you gently. "Go sit down and I'll bring it out to you."

"Okay." you reply before kissing him on the cheek and exiting the kitchen.

------

A few minutes later, Shinso exits the kitchen walking over to you with 2 plates. Each plate had a grilled cheese sandwich on it.

"Here you go." he says as he gives you your plate.

You take it from him gratefully.

"Thank you."

Shinso smiles at you gently as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, ready to start eating his own sandwich.

After finishing your food, as well as a glass of (favorite drink) you lay your head on Shinso's shoulder. You let out a sigh as sadness and confusion still runs through your body.

"Thanks, Toshi." you mumble.

Shinso wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer to his side. "I'm sorry that you're going through this kitten." he begins.

“But I’ll be there every step of the way, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, grateful Shinso who you know will stand by your side, no matter what.

girlies what do y'all do when you're crushing on someone

• jealousy makes you blind, but a brick can, too

Imagine arguing with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

The universe knows this man is very stubborn, honest, logical, and dense. A deadly combination because of how frustrating it would be trying to explain to him why you’re mad about something petty. It’s the perfect recipe to make you feel like a villain when you get mad at him for being too polite with his fans, especially ones who don’t know the definition of personal space or when he leaves the TV remote on the couch where you can’t, for the love of god, find it.

“Deep breaths,” you mutter under your breath. The grip you had on the counter tightens, tears pricking at your eyes as you try to take deep calming breaths. It’s been two hours since you went home from the dinner party thrown by the Adlers team, and a glance at the clock says its 3 in the morning, but sleep was elusive, your body buzzing with the vile jealousy slowly burning on your stomach.

With that thought, the events earlier came flashing back in your head, finally causing tears to fall freely from your eyes.

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