[ TO LOVE ] SCARAMOUCHE.

JJK BOYS’ WHEN YOU CALL THEM BY THEIR LAST NAME !

an. ur so cute when u reblog aha

ft. itadori, fushiguro, gojo, nanami, inumaki, junpei x gn!reader

wc. 0.6k

genre. fluff

► MASTERLIST ► TAGLIST ►

ITADORI YUJI — POUTY. think he’s done something wrong or something to make you angry, so he subtly acts more affectionate throughout the day, makes sure not to piss you off in any way, etc - and you have to hold back your laughter all the while. yuji isn’t the type to be confrontational about but if you do decide to keep up the act for a while, he’ll nervously ask you later on - “are you mad at me?” - he looks like he might cry with those puppy dog eyes of his, please tell him it’s a prank and shower him in affection as an apology <3

Keep reading

this problem has been bugging him for weeks. how dare you, a measly, meaningless extra, dare to make bakugo katsuki, the bakugo katsuki, fall in love with you. the audacity, really. but that’s not the end of it. he wants these butterflies in his stomach gone, and according to Wikihow.com, the best thing to do would be,

— a confession.

so he makes one (after he thinks about it for weeks). it’s probably the best confession you’ve ever recieved, he thinks to himself, if not the only one. a smirk plays on his face, ha, i’m so funny.

the classroom starts to empty out as the bell for dismissal time rings. bakugo walks past your desk, sliding a small, folded note on the surface of the wooden top. “what-” you don’t even get to finish your sentence, because he glares at you with blushing cheeks and runs away. “ok”, you say, laughing at his antics. the note unfolds into a crumpled piece of notebook paper, and there you see in his ugly, scrawny, writing ;

“date me or be lame.”

© solaxena : all rights reserved. do not edit, modify, repost, or claim my works as your own.

do you have any blog recommendations?

Greetings Anon, thank you for your ask. I've always had a list of blog recommendations! Though you probably might know some of them already. I'm going to list the ones that pop off the top of my head (of course there are many amazing writers in this fandom in which I can't keep up listing >.<)

@ddarker-dreams absolutely beautiful writing. Amazing characterization. Captures the mood and vibe perfectly whether the fic is long/short. I always go back to their fics if I feel I'm lacking inspiration (if you like yandere content this is the place!)

@dulcesiabits knows how to write unforgettable stories. Seriously, they would stick to my mind for MONTHS and I still remember them in detail. (Momento mori is my favourite so far :D)

@softcosmixs I remember reading one of their HCs and it was so cute! I admire people who can write fluff well, its something I strive to polish until I'm good at it

@witch-hazels-musings beautiful writing once again, I feel so soothed whenever reading her works uwu. Her blog is so wholesome too 🥺

@serensama though not genshin related I love LOVE the description of the way she writes. I also draw ideas from her fics (mostly mystic messenger) and I can't help but keep going as I read.

Hope this helps anon, enjoy reading :)

In Life and Death / 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

♡ read the prologue here :D

♡ When everything you know is shrouded in light, it’s often hard to remember to peek into the darkness. Your family has long since been a part of those who avoid it, choosing to hide comfortably amongst the high ranks of Mondstadt’s nobility. Your father, the King, has fought hard to keep it that way, especially following the Queen's unfortunate death. However, with a sudden push from the Fatui, certain old wounds are quickly reopened.

It's why upon tragedy striking, you aren’t alone in the assumption that the foreign nation is to blame. But when unseen circumstances quickly push the question of the culprit's identity over to you, you find that the situation is much deeper than meets the eye. Between the mysterious nature of an unknown killer, familial doubts, and the 11th Harbinger launching himself into the scene by making an attempt on your life, you think you're completely in over your head.

Even if Childe claims you have the picture all wrong.

And so, in a gruesome twist of events, you're faced with a choice -- trust Childe's convenient involvement and get to the bottom of everything together, or risk becoming victims yourselves.

♡ warnings: violence, mentions of choking, blood, and knives.

♡ word count: 7.3k

You had long learned to never trust a man who is no more than his glare, because even the most innocent of dogs will still bear their teeth. And inside the walls of Mondstadt’s gates, this ideology very well may be known to many -- because from the darkened alleyways to busy courtrooms, there will always be those who show more than they are ready to give.

Unfortunately, the same can often be said of the king. 

You are as much of a stranger to his dealings as he is, though the difference in you lies in your capability of being disappointed. The King is extremely lucrative when he can be, handling his power in a way where those around him are left in a constant state of wondering, when will he strike next, and how? The answers are often underwhelming.

Of course, you know better than them. Each side-eyed glance and nuance of a threat is always held, but sometimes you suspect that behind your father's guarded eyes, there's nothing more than a man paralysed with fear. It's why your first reaction is to write him off when you get to thinking about the person you'd lost -- however much you want to blame him for it. His inherent innocence is the entire reason that the concept of a murder on the royal grounds terrifies you so much. 

You hadn't ever been extremely close to the Chamberlain, but news of her death shook you like it would anyone. Because she had been a pleasant young woman, certainly no one that deserved to meet their end in such a way.

This does not mean Mondstadt is crime-free, of course. Pickpockets and murderers alike dwell in the deepest corners and behind closed doors, but none have ever dared to show themselves in such a fashion. Though, a sizable bit of the population in these parts do tend to include fatui agents from outside the nation, perhaps entrenched in the only ways they know how. 

Someone other than the king had dealt a life-ending blow to someone of no consequence -- bearing their teeth, so to say. It was done as if they had known they could get away with it. The offence was haughty, too confident to be considered a crime of the usual degree. Hence, in your opinion, the large possibility of a fatui agent testing the waters.

But with nothing being confirmed, the question of the sudden nature of events remains. And despite the warning bells in your head, despite any disapproval the king may have, you would be better suited trying to uncover the mystery with everyone else than just sitting around. In fact, that's exactly how you managed to see the effects of the situation in the first place.

It was more difficult than usual to sneak around, but upon arriving at the ugly leftover scene under the guise of a maid, you almost change your mind. 

There was no major evidence left behind, no trace of a second person besides a ring of purple around her neck, the indentation of thick fingers settled heavy in her skin. Apparently mere choking had not been enough to subdue the woman, too — the main offender is much more striking.

An injection had ultimately done her in, the pin-prick small but only noticeable thanks to the crystallised blood surrounding the wound. Much like the odd suit of frost covering her skin, it was unusually cold to the touch.

But, you had been discovered and ushered out of the room before you could unearth much more. As much as you’d like to do something with the information you’d snuck by, other clues are not so readily available. You'd expected as much, but to be shunned so quickly? It was almost too odd to overlook the convenience of it.

Left with nothing to process, you are steadfast in your blaming of the foreign Snezhnayan officers. But whether any truly useful information exists or not, you hadn't been allowed around long enough to find out. 

Grave events such as this one are debilitating, they shake normal life in a way usual events do not. But just as the king is well aware of the fear that envelops the royal court, he is also in tune with the mechanics of the city he rules. He will take all means necessary to confine the circumstances, to avoid pressure from Snezhnayan diplomats if nothing else. 

 So, you know well that the lack of information provided is entirely intentional.

The Chamberlain's death had occurred three whole days ago, and you still haven't heard a thing. Not even the town gossips are aware of the turmoil that drenches the castle, and the maids are equally tight-lipped. 

Tapping a pen against the mahogany of the wooden desk, you sigh. The writer’s callus on your dominant hand is tinged with blue ink, darker in the low light of the library only you populate. The usually bustling halls have been noticeably empty within the past few days. However, it is a good side effect -- with less to see your actions, the more freedom to investigate you are given. 

Though, any so-called ‘investigations’ you’ve completed thus far have been nothing more than quick brainstorming sessions, wherein the same vague points are turned over and over again in your head. Sighing at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, you slump in your seat. 

It frustrates you to know that in these moments, you are often royalty in title alone. You are a woman of title, a person of royal blood, are you not? Yet, because of a single wave of the king’s hand, you are kept in the dark just as every courtier and servant is, inevitably leaving one amongst you vulnerable to repeat the same unfortunate mistakes the chamberlain had. 

However, you are not a courtier. Not a servant. So, why dangle such information above your head, why withhold any greater power your status holds? The reason, your father will likely never share, but your lack of knowledge in any event is undoubtedly purposeful

It may just be for your protection, though his intentions are never so simple; he thinks like a king, not a father. 

But, albeit his strange tendencies, bits and pieces of the father you want to see remain in every stroke of his lacquered pen. He is the puppet behind only your menial troubles, and it would be unfair to pin much more than a daughter’s bitterness on him. Perhaps this is just his out of touch way of protecting you -- like you need it.

“My lady,”

A soft yet firm voice bids for your attention. There is an immediate regret that blooms in your chest as you stand up abruptly, feet pushing you out of your chair only to meet the patient eyes of a maid. You offer her an apologetic smile as you will your heart to slow.

It’s not your place to be jumpy, not when there are those who work soundlessly to ensure your protection.

Perhaps they’re a bit too soundless, though. 

“My apologies.” The old woman bows her head slightly, leaning a careful hand on your shoulder. “You startle very easily lately, are you feeling well?”

You nod, gaze anywhere but her as you search for an escape. “Yes, yes, of course. Just nervous, is all.”

The maid watches you as you gather your things, eyes lingering a moment too long on the shaking hands you fail to conceal. You clutch the notebook and pen to your chest, offering her an awkward smile.

“Everything will be alright,” She assures you, gesturing to the rest of the empty library. “Extreme measures are being taken to protect anyone else in the castle from succumbing to a similar fate.”

As you nod wordlessly, the calmness in her voice does not dissipate. You feel almost scrutinised under her polished gaze — it is gentle, but concerned nonetheless. Your fears are merely surface level affairs to the familiar woman, despite how deeply you attempt to hide them. 

Offering her a nod as you duck past her, you mumble a quiet goodbye. The maid’s eyes remain stuck to your back as you begin to walk away, patient.

“I had tea prepared not long ago.” You stop at the doorway, hand coming up to ghost over the wooden frame as your head turns back. The same unwavering smile adorns your sight. “Enjoy your night, my lady.”

You respond with a quick smile, fastening your grip on your belongings as you hurry from the room. The particular woman’s kindness truly runs deep, though you can’t help the discomfort you experience under her weighted gaze -- she studies you as if you are translucent, hungry eyes searching for fears to quell.

As your shoes click on the hard floor, you grimace. Of course, her intentions are nothing more than those of a dedicated caretaker, and guilt pokes at your inside unnervingly for pushing her innocent concern off. There is a part of you that wants to confide in someone, whether it is a maid or someone entirely different -- but, for reasons unknown to even you, it’s not something you’re willing to do. 

On your worst days, you fear someone will attempt to face your emotions head-on, regardless of your wishes. And while such a person is bound to appear, it’s instances like these that you learn to stave off those indulgent enough to get too close. It is only practical, after all, as a member of the royal family to keep your troubles close.

Your mother had been a wonderful example of what compassion could do to someone of your status. Evident in every generation, in every string of events, there will always be someone looking to take advantage of such raw trust. So, while cowardly, it is a caution that no one can fault you for.

It is a truly vile way of thinking, yet in this walk of life, it is unfortunately necessary.

You have long stopped wondering what others think of your fears, though simultaneously, you have recently found it harder to maintain a cooler composure. No action seems just right, no demeanour enough to please everyone. Your honest desperation is heartbreakingly truthful, and you can only hope it's enough to excuse the way you act. 

The low evening sun passes over your face through the windows of the hall, decorating your body in an array of warmth. And whether the world sees fit to tease you or not, you don’t mistake the oddly timed shiver that runs through your body. Shaking your head, you wish tiredly for nothing more than everything to be over. 

The crystalline doorknob to your personal chambers is slippery beneath your clammy grip, exhaustion seeping through your veins as you stand there without luck. The tiny inconvenience tests your patience extremely closely. Luckily, the halls are empty around you, void of anything but yourself and guards stationed some ways away. 

Offhandedly, you wonder if you could get away with sneaking off. Perhaps it’s an action you may need to take eventually, but with the steady droop of your eyelids, you surmise it can wait. Even your tired mind can discern that there is little you can do in your state.

Moments later, you find yourself sitting on your bed, the tricky doorknob locked shut behind you. You have little desire to do anything but to crawl under your covers and move on to the next day. But, the commentary-scribbled notebook still weighs lightly in your hand. 

With a narrowed gaze, you consider stuffing it into your pillow case -- what could be a better hiding place than directly beneath you? Your eyes are heavy as you carry out the action. The process isn’t meticulous by any means, but you decide it will work well enough for now. 

Still in your day clothes, you let your body fall on top of the comforter. You’re briefly freed of your anxieties as you will your mind to go blank. You forget about the murder, about your deathly curiosity, even about the mug of tea that continues to go cold on your nightside table.  

Your worries may encompass dire things, they may not. But at the end of the day, they can only be worries.

“I don’t understand.”

The spring air is sweet in your nose, but for all that it’s worth, it’s easily outshined by the distinctly rotten taste that grows in your mouth. Mornings in the castle are usually filled by the former; golden sunlight within the deserted halls, the chirping of bluebirds heard from beyond the cracked windows, bowls of fresh fruit carried by passing servants -- but today, you find these peaceful things to be stifled.

You’d been called on during the early hours of the morning, long before you normally even rise. Perhaps it was a precautionary action, perhaps the particular subject just made your father restless, yet in any case, the first hour of your day is spent moderately.

“This is by no means a complicated thing to ask of you.” Your father says this, and while he may be right, he should be one of the last to consider giving you such an order.

You shake your head slowly, trying not to let your distress shine through. “No, it’s not, but it’s not necessary, is it? Someone is dead. I’m only expressing discomfort in my own way.”

“...Your coping mechanisms seem awfully dangerous.”

Avoiding his eye, you yawn into the back of your hand. Call it what you like, but coping mechanism be damned if it’s the one thing that makes you feel secure living as you do. 

“I don’t see how trying to figure out what happened is dangerous,” You say, taking in your father’s demeanour. It’s an early morning for him as well, but you know better than to push his limits on purpose. “Please. It’s only a personal reassurement. I’ll be sure not to take it too far.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not concerned about you taking things too far, because I know you’ll do that regardless of what we agree on today.”

You’re silent at that.

“I just don’t need you getting hurt because someone chooses to see you as a threat, not when there are more capable people to be assessing this situation.”

Your lips and patience both simultaneously thin. “If there are more capable people available, then where are they? I would be more than happy to hand things over to them.”

Your father’s head tilts slightly, voice raising an octave or so. “I'm in the process of gathering help. Are you questioning me?"

Dread begins to ferment in your stomach as you shake your head, words heavy in your mouth. “No. I only urge you to take this more seriously. I think it would be the better choice, knowing what has happened when we let our guard down in the past.”

His eyes narrow as you turn your head away, avoiding his eye as casually as possible even while your heart thumps loudly in your chest. There is not a day that goes by wherein your father does not honour your late mother in some way. But, you do not understand the reason he chooses to push aside an event so similar to the one that has affected him so greatly now.

“I recommend that you visit the tavern this afternoon.” If your jab has ignited anything in him, it’s lost in the moment he turns to take a thin binder into his hand. You accept it warily as he continues. “The sister celebrations are quickly approaching. Despite the unfortunate events that have taken place recently, we must prepare as if on a normal schedule."

You quirk a curious brow. “Aren’t we on one already?”

“Yes, as of now.” Your father sizes up your expression before hesitantly continuing. “But, if things do get worse, I’m afraid we might have to postpone the events.”

Eyes widening, you stand up.

“There’s such a thing on the line, and still no one is investigating anything yet?!”

He says your name in a tone of warning, voice stern. “I'm handling it, but you must understand that there is not much to work with. I’m sure you know this as well.”

You try to meet his eyes, but they never quite meet yours; they follow his actions behind his desk, your fidgeting, but never anything else. You do not take it as a truthful promise, yet under his attention, all you can do is nod and believe that he will do as he says -- hope that he will listen to the concerns of the only family he has left. 

You move to leave, keeping careful note of the binder in your hand as you grumble a muffled goodbye. You can only guess its contents, but aren’t too keen on stopping to read it under the stifling atmosphere you’ve created. At the door, you pause as he calls your name. 

“Do not mention your mother to me again.”

His words settle with you as you disappear into the morning haze, the inkling of a frown pushing at your lips. The King had said that he was in the process of gathering help, but given his past, you aren't too inclined to believe him.

The conversation gets you thinking -- in the reality that he does end up finding someone to handle the situation, would you give up so easily? You aren't quite sure you know the answer. Especially not if the sister celebrations are in jeopardy.

It's why, when the afternoon comes, you are more than willing to pay the tavern a visit. As you’d discovered on your meandering walk back to your chambers, the binder your father had handed you is composed of nothing but numbers -- all necessary information for the numerous courses set to be available at the day of Ludi Harpastum and its most beloved partner, titled Dies Luctus.

A commemorative event by title alone, Dies Luctus is a masquerade that takes place yearly that exists to pay respects to those who have passed -- though in recent years, it has become more of a prologue for later festivities to the unseasoned eye.

Small details here and there exist to remind you of its history, in the dark masks that are given to attending patrons, or the waves of silence that occasionally pass over the crowd, even the single flowers provided as offerings to those who have lost someone. The most menacing of these signs, however, remains to be the empty throne at the king’s side. 

Your hands are clammy as you trek to the tavern. Be it a masquerade or a way to respect the dead, you will sooner be a part of those honoured than let a petty murder be the reason the world is not reminded of your mother’s existence once again. 

Angel’s Share’s bell chimes from high above as you enter, but no one looks in your direction even as the door slams shut behind you -- at least, save for the bartender. Trained vermillion eyes find yours in an instant, surprise melting through the depths as he beckons you over with the rag in his hand.

You can’t help your smile as you slip onto the stool in front of him.

The bar is polished finely, though maybe even more so than usual due to the presence of Master Diluc. His appearance at the bar is rare these days because of the looming dates of Dies Luctus and Ludi Harpastum -- but since the unfortunate passing of his father five years ago, the responsibility of coordinating the technicalities of the two events has since been passed to him. 

You know firsthand that it’s a lot of work, but there is no one you feel safer leaving the job to than the man in front of you. He has proved time and time again that he is steadfast in all he does. 

“Look who’s finally decided to show themselves.” Diluc nearly puts down the glass that he’s cleaning to ridicule you, a sure sign of his irritation. “I’d almost forgotten what you look like.”

Exhaling a light laugh, you shrug. “You know it’s busy up there. I barely have time for myself anymore, much less to come here.”

He shakes his head as if the explanation is so-so.

“You were never bad at sneaking out here before.” He quirks a brow, trading in the dry glass for another. 

“That was before someone was murdered in the place I’m sneaking out from.” You point out, taking gratification in the way Diluc lets out a resigned sigh. “Of course, it hindered me a bit.”

You place the notebook on the counter as you speak, not missing the way Diluc’s eyes land on it briefly.

“Right.” He nods thoughtfully, lips thinning. “I hope you’re doing well. In that case, it’s better to stay where you can’t be hurt.”

“Glad I have your approval.” You nod, eyes trailing back to the menu board behind him. There is a good reason why the Dawn Winery is widely regarded as the finest winery in Teyvat -- Angel’s Share’s menu has remained consistent with classic favourites that have served multiple generations well. 

“Here,” He nudges your usual order to you, and in a haze, you realise you must have spaced out. Mumbling a soft apology, you take the cold glass in your hands. 

Diluc releases a quiet sigh, nudging the notebook with his knuckle. “Is something wrong? Do you need my help?”

“Kind of.” You admit, shrugging. He opens the binder with a curious hand. “It’s the catering needed for the sister celebrations coming up. It was given to me this morning.”

Diluc skims the pages silently, but you get the feeling he’d finished doing so long beforehand. He has always been so reserved, so thoughtful, even when you were children. His perseverance after the death of his father was something that you could never accomplish on your side of things, not even with time. Even as you stumbled behind, he grew capable -- capable of returning to see that you went in step with him, to the end. 

“I… had assumed the festivities would be postponed at the very least, concerning the recent events.” He admits, eyes flickering up to meet yours. “Is that not the case?”

“What?” You scoff, gesturing to the book. “Of course not. The king probably gave me that to deliver because he’s sure to have a solution by the time it comes around. He wouldn’t dare miss it.”

“Do you believe that?”

It’s a harmless question with a simple answer, but it stops you short. To see Diluc, such a powerful man, so unsure sometimes leaves your hopes exceedingly low. You train your eyes on the wall of alcohol behind him in hopes that he will not notice your hesitance. 

“...Fine. I don’t know what you’ve been told,” Continuing quietly, you’re suddenly acutely aware of the patrons near you. “I know that the longer it’s covered up, the worse it will get. But the issue will be gone by the time Dies Luctus starts, even if I have to make sure of it myself.”

“We’ve had problems before, but we’ve never missed it. And we won’t this time either.”

Diluc nods silently, your unspoken message reaching him clearly. Since your mother, the queen’s, murder almost six years ago, you have not once missed Dies Luctus -- the event is a memorial for the dead, but it is much more to you. Out of the three hundred and sixty five days a year, it is the only one your father will ever acknowledge that the queen is gone. 

“Then I’ll do what I can to help.” Diluc leans down on the counter on one elbow, all so that he can come closer to your face. It’s as if he believes your distance will affect how clearly you remember his threatening concern. “You need to tell me if anything else happens, okay?”

You can’t help a smile, leaning back. “So you will accept my request this time, Master Diluc?”

He shakes his head, fighting a smile. The jab of sudden formality is something that you will never let go of, even if he refuses to use your own title in return.

“I hope I won’t have to.”

You fear many things. darkness, the unspeakable acts spoken of in rumours that reach the castle’s halls, occasionally you even let your imagination fill in the blanks -- but not even the stormiest nights can compare to the dread that ferments deep in your bones in this moment. 

A cold sweat breaks out over your neck as you lay still, waiting, praying for the movement outside your door to still. There are two guards stationed outside your door on a typical night, and you have learned their schedules and how to recognise their gaits gradually over the hours of sleepless nights. Such an abundance of interruption is definitely rare. 

They are ordered to stay still so as not to disturb you, but the sounds that reach your ear are distinctly unnatural, and unnervingly close. Surely, you're just paranoid. You can only hope.

The curtains are drawn halfway shut across the room, letting the only source of light in through tiny gaps and slivers. It paints a suspenseful image as muffled noises come to a stuttering stop outside your door. Your breath catches as you’re shocked back into attention by a large thump against the wood. Abruptly, you sit up, clutching the sheets in a grip that has your knuckles turning white. Something is wrong.

Suddenly, someone steps carefully into your room. You eye the man warily. Because your guards rotate in shifts that change in the early morning, you cannot recall ever seeing the faces of the men who guard you while you rest. 

Breath stumbling, you ask, “…What’s going on?”

The guard shakes his head silently, face hidden beneath the haze of the night that blankets the room. You swallow thickly.

“You aren’t my guard, are you?” You say quietly.

A thousand thoughts run through your head. Is this perhaps your karma for pursuing the killer? It may only be your luck that has brought them to you, a harbinger of death is certainly a disposition that would find you eventually. But no amount of self pity or regret could overtake the fear that seizes you. 

“Clever.” When the fake finally responds, his voice is deeper than you had expected it to be. “I was told that you weren’t able to recognise your guards. Though, I presume that isn’t completely true, am I right, Your Highness?”

The man is quick and virtually soundless as he crosses the floor, all but for the way his boots occasionally clink together. Your heart sinks as his supposed plan comes together in your head.

“Don’t.” You order him sternly, putting out a shaking palm that betrays your voice. “How- how close do you think my other guards are?  I presume you weren’t told how quick their rounds are?”

It’s a complete and utter lie — no matter how close any patrolling guards are, the ones you mention are hours away from arriving. But you notice it when his body stills for a moment anyway. In slight panic, you throw your covers back and stand in a helpless attempt to gain leverage. 

“Don’t move.” He warns, putting out an empty hand. “You have the choice to make this a lot easier for the both of us.”

You scoff quietly, the sound broken. “...And let you kill me?”

You frown, trembling hand reaching for the abandoned cup of tea on the nightstand with a vengeance. But the man follows your movements too quickly, coming close and tearing the ceramic from your grip. The cold liquid splashes harmlessly back onto him.

He is faster than you in every sense. The late hour muddles more than just your mind, leaving ample opportunity for his hand to wrap around your collar and bring you closer. You half expect to see a creature of nightmares -- a mangled face, soulless eyes, but instead you’re met with the blank canvas of a black masquerade mask. Not even his eyes are visible through the tiny gaps. 

The cold edge of his knife presses into the skin of your neck, the same wide hand pulling your back to his chest. Your eyes grow wide at what little patience the man seems to have. 

“...Who are you?” You breathe, grimacing as the blade presses farther into your skin. It’s cleverly positioned, deep enough to draw blood yet still shallow enough to lift most of the pressure from your voice. No words pass between you as he looks over you from the depths of his mask, silent and patient. 

“Did you take the chamberlain’s life like this, too?” You choke, gasping for air as you begin to feel the gash on your neck slide open further with each word. “Or were you kinder to her?”

A small groan of pain leaves your mouth hanging open as he jolts the metal -- it’s not enough to hurt you a large amount, but it quiets you nonetheless. You wince when he says, 

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve killed no one yet.” He says, breath hot against your ear. “You should worry about yourself.”

Unwelcome shock ripples through your chest. Of course, he must be bluffing, but you can’t quiet your mind long enough to focus on the implications of his words. It’s fairly obvious due to the burlesque way he holds onto you, but you suspect if the man put any amount of his normal strength forward, you would stand no chance. 

Brashly, you hiss, “Are you dragging this out on purpose?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “Only if you’d like me to, Princess.”

“…You say pointless things.” You grumble, trembling hand shooting up to latch onto his clothed wrist. Most of your willpower goes into keeping your voice still, but any semblance of control you attempt to fake is lost on your body. Though, he pays no mind to you. 

You’re even almost certain he mirrors your look of irritation as he finally dares to make a calculated slash across your neck. Gasping in pain, your legs falter. It is exceedingly thin, barely noticeable for all but the way you bleed. The wound that opens across your neck meets the cold air all too fast, hot blood ghosting across the mess of hands at your collar.

He seems to think his warning will convince you to secede. 

Hesitantly, you speak, nearly gagging at the sensation of blood that drags down your throat. “Do you enjoy holding my life in your hands?”

Your captor doesn’t respond, circling you to your front cautiously. He keeps the knife to your throat as a precaution before finally allowing the mask he wears to slip over the bridge of his nose. Chilling blue eyes stare back at you, clean and free of emotion. For a moment, these eyes seem hauntingly familiar -- but you force yourself to quit dwelling on the man that holds a knife to your throat. 

“And if I do?”

The challenging words ignite a sense of desperation in you. You have little ability to fight back, fearing your delicate wound opening into something more; your blood already makes a mess of anything it can reach, and you doubt you can withstand it for much longer. 

“Then,” You’re breathing heavily as his eyes narrow. “Try your best.”

You had first learned how to hold a dagger beneath the shade of a grapevine on your thirteenth birthday -- it had been a drab thing, metal worn and rusted from years of disuse. Yet, Diluc had sworn to you that it was as good as any. With his skills, maybe that was true, but as you took the handle like you would a kitchen knife, you knew immediately that you would have a different experience. 

The concept was at first no more than a way to have fun, intended for an impossibly different future. Though, you’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that Diluc took his role as a teacher seriously -- he almost embodied the position as he guided you, solidifying your once meagre skills.

Then Diluc received a vision. 

Pyro and matching his once upbeat personality, the fifteen year old that had received it was delighted. Quickly, he lost the need to know how to throw a knife, and how to utelise it as an effective weapon. He had many other things at his disposal that were much more interesting, after all. 

And yet, he stayed with you. He continued to teach you everything he knew, even as he began to forget it himself. You make a mental note to never admit that you’re the same, that most of his words from back then are lost to time. But, as frustrated tears well up in your eyes, you’re suddenly unsure if you’ll ever get the opportunity to see him again. 

Because in truth, you are more human than you give yourself credit for. You pale in the face of danger just as anyone else would, losing your reason just as fast as you may lose your blood -- but the difference in you, is that you will seldom let people say they have bested you. 

With a staggering breath, you back away suddenly, wincing at the slight grit of metal releasing skin as you move. There are no easy countermeasures to take, no hidden weapons tucked away for situations like these. The man points his weapon at you easily, threats materialising in his gaze as he takes a step forward. You take a step back in return.

“If you come quietly, I’ll make it hurt less”

The same dreaded pattern continues until the back of your knees hit the bed.

“And if I don’t? You’ve had ample opportunity to take my life, and yet you haven’t.” You say bitterly, hiding the way your hands shake behind your back. The knife he holds still shines red with the tint of your blood. “If you’re trying to hold me for ransom, I’d save your breath.”

He seems amused, but there’s a flicker of genuine interest over his face. Thumbing the knife in his grip, he asks quietly,

“And why is that, Your Highness?”

You don’t respond. Turning quickly to slip the notebook from beneath your pillow, the weighted canvas is heavy in your hand. His eyes widen as you swing it over him directly, and though it misses the target you had intended, you’re able to knock the dagger from his unsuspecting hands. 

But, you’re too sloppy as you dive for it. The man catches up to you easily, taking the window you struggle to pull you back into his chest as the knife clatters to the floor. You cry out as he forces your neck upwards, tears rushing to your eyes.

“Not so fast.'' He clenches his jaw, grip tightening over your throat as tears rush to your eyes. “I’ve heard how good you are with a knife.”

Fighting the darkness that threatens to invade your vision, you croak and claw at his arms. “If- if you didn’t kill the chamberlain, why are you here?”

“Cooperate, then I'll tell you.” The man grits. You let out a desperate groan.

In a hopeless attempt to gain leverage, you jump – he’d made the easy mistake of letting your feet touch the ground, giving your flailing limbs enough time to push into him. The nauseating sound of bone hitting bone suddenly resounds in the quiet room, though it’s moderately covered by the obstinate curses of the man behind you. He releases his grip on you reflexively. Coughing furiously, you shove your weight back into him with all of your might.

When he staggers, you take the opportunity to tackle him down, forcing your weight on top of him before he can counter. Now, as your legs straddle him, you hold the knife to his throat with one hand, the other holding one of his arms above his head.

Your captor’s body is completely relaxed, and though you know it’s a plot to get under your skin, it still scares you. 

“Name your price,” You rasp, voice still weak from being briefly cut off. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

The man says nothing, hair mussed and breathing heavy. His reason for breaking in must be so clouded that it blinds his own reasoning. In your mutual struggle, his mask has started to slip further beneath his eyes, though it saddens you slightly to know you have no free hand to reveal the man’s identity completely.

Your jaw locks as you push the blade into his skin. It catches you off guard when you notice his face shifting into an incredulous smile.

“I would never take the money of a fake King."

You push him into the ground, taking note of the way he grunts in response. “Be quiet.”

The man’s short laugh splits the air, the beginning of a bruise blooming on the underside of his chin. 

A beat of uncomfortable silence passes between you. But, before the man can goad you any further, a shaking hand brings the knife away from his throat. In the most simple way, your thoughts are a jumble of wires – the shells of countless new plans that will never be anything more than inklings. 

Consequently, you barely think anything of it when you decide to turn away, nothing more guiding your panicked aim than your wildly beating heart. 

Even the man below you seems confused at your thought process. But as soon as the decorative vase sitting by the door shatters over the hard tile, he is competent enough to know that despite your compromising position, you are the only one of you who believes that you are fighting for your life. 

You half expect the noise to set him off. But, the incoming danger does nothing more than make him attempt to break away from you. 

You shout for anyone nearby before mustering the courage necessary to push him further into the tiled floor, cementing your palm into the nook of his wrists until he grimaces. A glimmer of something close to understanding rushes through his eyes.

“If you wanted to be close to me so bad, you could’ve said so.” He teases, though the fear in his voice is raw. It almost manages to catch you off guard.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” You spit, voice shaking as he attempts to fight back. Though you want to pride yourself in your ability to keep him down, something seems suspicious about it --  he had no problem overpowering you before, so a simple change in position shouldn’t be as important.

By now, you’ve certainly noticed the cerulean vision strapped to his hip, signifying his power threshold. Though, you’re unsure of whether his disuse of it frightens or relieves you more – he has certainly only been delaying the inevitable, but why?

It’s as if something had flipped in his mind. He’d certainly thought of something in his time since entering the room, but whether it was previous plans or an entirely new one, you don’t know.

Swallowing your doubts, you push more of your weight onto his arms. The man grunts.

“I don’t know what you want,” You breathe, force evident in your voice. “But you won’t get it.”

He conveniently manages to break out of your grip just as the door to your chambers slams open, a group of masked guards rushing in unhindered. You fall back onto the ground hard. But, as the man searches for a viable route of escape, one of the braver guards rushes forward to your side and yanks you out of harm’s way.

In their grip, you’re nothing but a bag of bones being strung along, stunned into silence. 

The criminal’s mask has since been adjusted back to its normal position, and yet, you still feel the depths of his sheathed gaze when it finds yours. A frown is evident on his face. 

“You’re going to regret this.” He speaks to you as if you’re still the only two in the room, focus inconveniently centred even as the guards in front of you begin to crowd him. A heavy hand comes up to ghost over the afflictions on your neck. The pain is fresh, blood adorning the shallow slit as well as a tightness that rests in the skin he had grabbed you. It will likely bruise. 

But, you can’t find it in you to take pleasure in the way that he fends off the guards – he seems a decent match for them, an excellent fighter in his own right, but he plays the same wretched game and only you are aware of it. The man’s punches are too sloppy to be natural, his footwork too elementary to belong to someone who had quietly replaced a guard without issue. 

Much to your chagrin, he’s soon placed in handcuffs. A jumble of threats courses through the room on the account of both parties. Though, you have to admit: however fake they may be, the man’s promises are certainly creative. 

But most of all, you take great pleasure in seeing the guards at last pull back his mask, revealing his face to the full extent.

You gut twists as stunning sapphire eyes meet yours in full capacity for the first time. You can’t help but shudder at the sense of familiarity his appearance lends you, despite his plain clothes and foul mouth. Even more surprising, though, is the way he immediately seems to recognise your train of thought – his gaze cuts deep into you even without the handicap of a physical blade.

However, the words he attempts to convey are lost on you. And rather than feel dejected, you find comfort in your inability to understand. Because when you see the scratches up his arms, and the bruise that blooms dark on his chin, you don’t let yourself forget that in the end, he has lost. 

He merely lets himself be pulled upright. Even if his eyes allude to pain, the man makes no effort to resist, nor to even elaborate as his form disappears beyond the doorway. He leaves almost entirely unscathed as you stand rigid in the scrapping he’d left behind.

You release a throaty cough, finally allowing yourself to sit up straighter from your tense position on the floor. There is very little you can do beyond touch the skin on your neck gingerly as the silence of the night begins to fade in. 

It’s only now that you notice the guard that had originally caught you has hung back, silently waiting for the right moment to act -- a patient approach, but unfortunately, not a helpful one. Your lips thin in a strained frown as tears finally begin to spill over your cheeks. 

The knight reaches out an armoured hand, concerned but mechanical -- this is merely his duty, not his want. You turn it down shakily, reeling back from his worry even if you want nothing more than for someone to be brave enough to look past your fear. 

“My lady--”

“Find Master Diluc. Now.” You choke out, gaze turning on him as you stand shakily. “I- I will make my way to the infirmary--”

They reach out a hand once again, but this time, when you see it coming, you freeze. 

The floor is hard against your body, and so, so unbearably real. You are not the farthest from death that you’ve ever been, but remembering the feeling of cool steel against your skin, you can’t help but wonder if it was closest. The gravity of the situation hits you all at once as the adrenaline drains from your blood.

The guard’s voice is distant as a mindful hand finally makes the jump to support you. Yet, as you choke on blood that you can’t touch, as desperation rises to your eyes, you realise you don’t have it in you to respond. You can do nothing but turn your painful gaze on them before you come so close to losing everything once again.

© tartaglicious 2022, please do not repost 

i. my youth is yours / eren jaeger ( attack on titan ). 

The reason why Eren is the way he is right now is that you have always been part of his youth.

wc: 1,672 

a/n: takes place in a modern setting of marley, where eren & the reader are both 22 years old and college students. 

Eren has known you since he was ten years old.

It started in the fifth grade when he first saw you on the first day. Back then, he thought nothing special of you. You were around his age, a classmate of his, and just someone who sits at a desk that was arranged next to him. Someone as sweet and nice as you shouldn’t be friends with someone as fearsome and abrupt as him, but fate had other plans in store for him.

Keep reading

a/n first kiss w genshin boys :) ik i said i was on hiatus but uhhhhhhh Heyyy

warnings/tags in an attempt to make me happy. fluff, includes xiao childe zhongli diluc kaeya

XIAO is confused, but tries his best to kiss you back. to be honest, everyone calls him heartless and cold—but he’s really just confused and blunt LOL. you can imagine him just struggling to not be awkward but the boy just wants to kiss you forever (if it were possible). poor guy just wants to savour the moment and forgets to reciprocate. i feel like he’d be the type to hug you after.

“sorry, i just got caught up in the moment.” he says before pulling you closer again.

CHILDE is a cocky little bastard and makes you pull away to breathe. no, seriously. the man acts like he has no need to breathe or doesn’t want to. you pull away, breathless, cheeks flushed because he’s somehow really good at this?? he tells you he’s a natural at it, and you’re not convinced. he would’ve kissed you for hours without stopping if you didn’t pull away 5 seconds in. his smooth words make you feel even more giddy as if the kiss didn’t already make you lightheaded.

“what can i say, i’m just that good.” he shrugs, smiling at you while you try to catch your breath. my, it’s really a sport to kiss this man.

ZHONGLI smiles while you kiss him. you can feel the ends of his lips curl into a smile as yours touch his, and it’s definitely one of the best feelings ever. his lips are probably soft as hell… and he’d probably put his hands on your jaw or something. i don’t know why but i feel like he’s one of the more touchy guys in genshin despite his looks!! he’d definitely pull you close and take your breath away (not in a cocky way like the ginger….,,).

“i really like this,” he says softly when he pulls away for a second, and he smiles slightly seeing your flushed cheeks.

DILUC explodes. not literally but he kind of resembles a bomb because his face just turns red. he’s an okay kisser—when you kiss him, he’s really stiff at first but eases into your touch. poor man was trying to do his paperwork, but it’s not like he doesn’t mind you being close to him like this. as urgent as his “you’re distracting me” and “not now”s sound, he would really choose you over paperwork (or anything really) anyday. when you pull away, his face is almost as red as his hair—but before long, your lips are against his again.

“i can always do my work later. for you, it can wait,” diluc says, putting his pen down.

KAEYA is another smooth cocky bastard!!!!!! do not believe this man when he says he is a bad kisser. he is by all means not!!!! he’s already got a charming and smooth personality, just imagine his kisses. you’d already expect him to have you weak in the knees as soon as his lips met yours, and you were not surprised when that was exactly what happened. he’ll probably say something like “you didn’t like it” after you pull away knowing you’ll go red and say you did….

“really? was that a good first impression?” kaeya smiles at you, knowing he’s got you all lightheaded because of him. please just put him in a cell already

this isn’t how i usually write but take it or leave it ig!! — 231221

join in on my event <3

how they betrayed you

characters: dabi. hawks. sero. shinso. shoto.

genre: angst

a/n: repost from my old bnha blog [blog is deleted]

DABI lived a dangerous life. constantly in hiding, shielding himself from the public, while causing death and destruction all the same. he had a purpose in life, one single goal that he wanted to reach and he wasn’t afraid to burn everything in his path. even if it was you. as it turned out, it didn’t matter that you were close, that you thought you meant more to him, that you thought you shared the same values, that you went through so much together. because as soon as he could, as soon as he knew it would benefit him, he threw you under the bus. who were you to get in his way?

HAWKS was always good with words. he had a talent to wrap people around his finger, no matter how careful they were, he knew that sooner or later they would cave. so when he met you the first time, no matter how charming you were after all, he didn’t care much about you. no, you were nothing more than a tool for him to get information, to fulfill his mission - and he certainly didn’t care what he promised you during those late hours as you two laid there together. because to him, you were a mission, nothing more.

SERO was never one to stand out much. sure, he was there, he was a part of the others, yet he never felt like he belonged there, almost like something was missing. and it was like everything changed with you there. people started to care about him more, he talked to them more, they seemed more interested in him; that’s all he ever wanted. sero was so happy to finally get the recognition he knew he deserved, even if it was on your expense. to him, you weren’t more than a simple trophy to keep.

SHINSO was ambitious, no doubt. he was focused on his goals, he worked hard to achieve it. so there was no problem that he convinced you to help him too, right? it didn’t matter, he simply wanted to see the effects of his own manipulation, curious as to what it would do to a person if used multiple times in a short amount of time. he saw no issue how exhausting it must‘ve been, how you must have felt whenever you woke up, dizzy and confused, no clue as to what happened beforehand. and even if he made you do something that made you loose your friends - you had him, right?

SHOTO always believed he had only one purpose in life: become the strongest hero. so naturally, he wanted to do everything in his power to fulfill said aspiration, no matter what. and you were there, a perfect opponent, smart classmate and compassionate hero in training. however, you didn’t know that he didn’t see you as more than just that. he played his own role too well and yet only thought about his own gains. what’s even worse is that he didn’t even see a problem with it.

© sunarent. all rights reserved. do not modify, copy or claim as your own. do not repost. reblogs are appreciated

sing me melodies.

a/n: this was two similar requests combined together hehe and i loved writing it sm. it's one of my favorite requests, honestly!! <3

summary: s/o who sings to tell stories/singer! s/o who sings for the boys when they’re stressed/confesses to them with a love song.

characters: albedo, scaramouche, xiao, zhongli.

warnings: fluff, angst, gender-neutral reader!

word count: 1.3k

"as venti once said; stories are best told through beautiful songs!"

albedo: albedo enjoys your songs incredibly. he enjoys the love stories the most! but he doesn't mind hearing depressing stories; he just has a clear preference!! albedo appreciates those stories both fact and fiction; the stories that touch close to home are those based on your personal experiences, and he can only stare in awe as you sing of love, your dreams, heartbreak, or sadness. sing him sweet melodies of your relationship and how you're so happy together, and he's so whipped!

scaramouche: he may pretend like he's not interested, but he actually is. proof? well, he asks questions afterward! "why would they do such a thing? how stupid..." even if he does berate the story a bit. his favorite songs are those he can relate to, otherwise, he may be bored. sing him songs of battle, feeling torn between two conflicting ideals, kings and queens; royalty. he'll listen then. scaramouche likes when you praise him in your songs, so please do that.

xiao: he appreciates them so much! naturally, he's drawn to the darker stories. those of a couple who can not be, or someone losing something or someone so close to them they can't function properly, and the tragedies of life and death. he's not sure why he enjoys those stories, probably because he prefers realism, he despises sugarcoating with a passion! the love stories you share are probably your personal experiences with him, and he cannot lie, he does enjoy those quite a bit! <3

zhongli: he's a stickler for songs of the past! old tunes that remind him of the olden days, trying times where he and his people were able to pull through. he finds great pleasure in those kinds of stories told through song! of course, the triumphs should be remembered, and singing those stories of war, forbidden love, etc in the past is right up his alley. he also likes the realisticness of it all! but that doesn't mean he hates the fictional side, no. sing him words of myths, fairytales, he loves it all as long as it's your velvety voice. but, always, swimming in the nostalgia will always be his favorite type of song you sing for him.

"i'm a tad bit stressed, so i'm just going to sing alright? cool."

albedo: he doesn't mind at all! if singing is your way of releasing your worries, fear, and major stress factors in your life, go for it. he has his own form of outlet and ways to release stress, and this is yours! when you start randomly singing your worries and anxieties, you aren't doing it in hopes he'd fix all your problems, but he always offers a word of advice after, comfortably giving you the space to ask for help or not.

scaramouche: not cool. he's far too busy to sit here and listen to you sing about your worries, although he does care. he would snap at you first, but then he'd listen and try his best to ease your worries. when i say "best" i mean it, he does try. but he's not the most comforting guy, hence words that sounded like reassurances in his head turned into an annoyed tone when he actually said it aloud. if you're together, you know by now not to get offended by his harshness, because sometimes he truly does mean well and isn't trying to be rude. <3

xiao: he's heard every cause of stress in the books, so when he hears you ask him if it's okay to basically rant, he just nods and continues listening. xiao's heard all of the despair, sadness, frustrations, and anger known to man trust me. he's helped people too, so what kind of lover would be if he didn't offer his assistance to you? like scaramouche, his words of encouragement or reassurance come out a bit rougher than preferred, but unlike scaramouche, his walls do come down and he lets softer things be said; "i don't know why you've held this in for so long... but i will do everything in my power to assist you with these feelings."

zhongli: all ears! he even offers some helpful advice, always. his main goal is to listen to your songs, access the situation, analyze possible outcomes of solutions, and then help you reach that solution! you never wanted him to go out of his way over things little or big, but he does no matter the issue, small or big <3 he handles what you sing with the utmost care, trust me. and when he listens to your songs, especially those of confessions of stress, he will always look you in your eyes to let you know he's listening intently and will do whatever it takes to help you feel reassurance.

"confession through a song? sure why not!"

albedo: doesn't realize it's a confession... he mistakes your confession for a love story either fact or fiction, but not you admitting your love to him. he's probably caught up in the song if there seem to be overtly affectionate love interests, not realizing it's you who has those feelings for him and are admitting it... at the end of the day, the moral of the story is, you've gotta outright tell him!! say, "albedo, i have a crush on you!" or "did you not catch my song as a confession?" don't be scared, he totally has feelings for you too, he just needs to be told outright. afterward? he's very straightforward with his feelings too and will openly admit his love for you! <3

scaramouche: he may not notice it's a confession at first, but then when he processes what's being said, oh boy! beat red in the ears. he's sooo lucky his hair covers his ears or else, more embarrassment the gods are totally willing to spare! he's going to do one of two things; avoid this as long as he can, and pretend he never heard you express your feelings to him through song OR flat out call you out, using words such as, "idiot" and "stupid" or 'brat" claiming you've gotta be joking. but you're not... if he takes this route, he's definitely not rejecting you, no, he's just flat out making fun and teasing you because he can't possibly admit his true feelings, oh not the scaramouche!!

xiao: xiao isn't dumb, he understands what the "yearning" and "love" you mention are in your song, but he doesn't act on it at first and just continues listening to you sing. it's much easier to ignore the meaning of the words and enjoy the melodic sounds of your voice than confront this and his own feelings. so he does that for as long as he can. until he can't sleep... and he starts thinking of your sweet words while he's supposed to be sleeping. he won't admit he has feelings with words, but one way you can be sure is when he starts allowing you to call him alatus! after you ask zhongli about the meaning, plus why he's suddenly so determined you call him that, zhongli says he's never heard of anyone allowed to call xiao that, not even himself; meaning, the wise man has come to the conclusion xiao returns your feelings. which is true!

zhongli: he knows due to his wisdom and incredible intuition, and he's so flattered! he's always felt the same way, so to have you bravely admit your feelings to him through singing, it's perfect! he never saw you admitting how you felt, ever, mainly because after he told you his story and who exactly he was, he thought you wouldn't try because well... if you ever got together, he would long surpass you. growing attached was definitely not suitable if you wanted to be together for the rest of your life. though, after he confronts you about these feelings and admits he also feels the same way, he promises you he will figure out a way for you two to be together! whether he has to entirely shorten his lifespan and abandoned his status now as an adeptus, or seek help from celestia, or even baal, god of eternity; he will figure it out, he promises you wholeheartedly! <3

8.23.21, rayofsunas

𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑨𝑪𝑪𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑳𝒀 𝑯𝑼𝑹𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼

— Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, Todoroki Toya, Kirishima Eijiro x f!reader

cw. mild suggestive — rbs are appreciated — m.list

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

“Stop it brat” he wrinkles his brow as he pins you against the wall, your wrists in his big hand as he tries to lift you onto his shoulder, “I don’t feel like playing, it’s been a long day.”

“I’m tired, please” he says more softly as he walks into the bedroom, and he really is tired. So tired that he takes his measurements wrong and drops you way too much on the edge of the bed.

You wince as you end up on the floor. His eyes snap open before he flops down beside you himself, “shit, baby” he hisses through clenched teeth bringing one hand behind your back to gently stroke you and the other to your head studding your hair with kisses, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

When he pulls you up this time he’s more careful, he sits on the bed with you in his lap, “you okay, baby?” he asks holding you tight, his chin on your head and he’s so cute when he’s not acting like an angry Pomeranian that you pretend it still hurts just to be cuddled a little more.

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Shouto Todoroki SFW Alphabet

Navi NSFW alphabet

...

SFW

A - Affection

° Is a ragdoll if that makes any sense. For hugs he'll just slump into you, whether if you're facing him or if he's hugging your back. When you two are going to bed, same thing. He'll either loosely wrap an arm or leg around you or simply just lay on top of you. Even if you are internally suffering because this boy is beefy and quite tall, he'll sigh in content and purr a 'goodnight' or 'I love you'. He also will do this in public, he doesn't comprehend that it could make someone uncomfortable.

B - Best friend

° He's like a cat, you have to prove your trustworthy enough for his company. And once you do, he'll nonstop follow you around. It's awkwardly endearing since he'll just follow you to wherever you go silently, genuinely suffering if you call in sick because he's so used to being around you. 9/10 he'll go to your house with some soup and medicine, not caring what he misses.

C - Cuddles

° This man is the most love deprived person in UA and no one can change my mind. So when you first cuddle him, it'll be like holding onto a human sized rock. It'll take a couple of months before he softens up and loosely returns the cuddles. His favorite type of cuddles is where you pretty much spoil him, it's when he lays his head on your lap so you can trace his features and play with his hair.

D - Domestic (Would they settle down?)

° You're the one who'd have to take things slow, the moment you two are officially dating is the time where he just assumes you two are going to get married eventually. It's his family who taught him that since Endeavor only married Rei for her powers. So he doesn't know that much about a sincere and regular paced relationship.

E - Ending (How would they end a relationship?)

° This man is too loyal to ever end a relationship and I stand by that, either the partner would have to end it or he would've rejected the person from the start. He has so much baggage that he's worried that no one else will be able to handle it, so he won't lose you if it's his choice.

F - Fiancé

° He'd propose after the second date if it weren't for you telling him that you want a regular paced relationship. He's ready, he has the ring, he has the dinner, he even has his damn tuxedo and rose. So the moment you even hint towards the fact that you want a wedding, he's leaving a note saying to meet him at the restaurant you both went to on your first date.

G - Gentle (Are they gentle on your feelings?)

° I'd love to say yes... But Shouto is far too blunt to be considered gentle on anyone. If he hurts you, he genuinely does not mean to and will not realize he has until you verbally explain it to him. You'd have to tell him your insecurities and baggage beforehand unless you want some very blunt and sharp comments from him that hurt.

H - Hugs

° Like I said before, he'll Ragdoll. His favorite hug is when you're back is faced towards while your cooking or training, then he'll rest his head into the crook of your neck and slump his larger body over yours gently. He'll sigh in content, watching you continue what you were doing with a blank stare. This really makes you question is Shouto is part cat.

I - I love you

° Took three months of dating before he said those three words to you, and surprisingly he was the first one to say it. You were visiting Shouto at his house, worried since he was home sick. When you walked in, you heard Endeavor scolding your boyfriend for being too weak to train thanks to his illness. Hearing this enraged you, so you stormed into their gym and cornered Enji into a corner while screaming at him. Seeing you stick up for him made Shouto feel loved, so when you ushered him back to bed he whispered those words that rang through his head.

J - Jealousy

° He thinks it's being protective, when in reality he just doesn't like it when you hang around certain people *cough Kaminari cough*. Shouto feels his heart stop when he sees naturally clingy people like Kaminari and Kirishima hugging you or offering a shoulder massage after a battle. He always buts in rather coldly, saying it's his job to hug and massage you not theirs. Please reassure him, he's very insecure and will tear up to a point.

K - Kisses

° His lips are very soft and plump but also semi cold, they always taste like Soba or mint hot chocolate no in between. Shouto will cup your jaw gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you begin to drape your arms over his broad shoulders. His lips are very addicting and he doesn't understand the concept of PDA, so it's up to you to control both of you in public.

L - Little ones

° Wants to be a father, but is nervous that'll he'll become a shitty one like his own dad. He'd love to see little versions of you and him running across your shared home as they play around like children should. When you do have children he'll be the soft parent, too scared of scolding them thanks to his experiences with his own family.

M - Mornings

° Wakes up at the crack of dawn, goes outside to stretch and train for a bit, then goes back inside to wake you up and shower with you. He always makes breakfast since you're usually a mess in the morning, but the only thing he can't make is coffee since he doesn't drink it and wouldn't know how to make it. But if you drink tea then he'll take over breakfast fully. Shouto wears a tank top, boxers, and bunny slippers in the morning... And will tie his hair up into the tiniest ponytail (Rip because Shouto stans would be dead).

N - Night

° Even though he's a morning person, he surprisingly stays up quite late. He'll sit in bed and read a book, but he'll put it away if you want to watch a show with him before bed. He refuses to go to sleep without doing five specific things, Having a cute bubble bath with you, Giving each other a massage, talking about your days, asking what you want for breakfast tomorrow, and sharing a goodnight kiss. Skip any of those and he'll have trouble sleeping.

O - Open

° He'll talk about his struggles but he will be very vague with them until you're further in the relationship, he'll simply say his dad is a dick and abused his family rather than going into details about how much he suffers inside. He will understand if you have trouble talking about a certain struggle of yours, but he'll reassure you that he'll never judge you and that you can trust him.

P - Patience

° He's quite patient when it comes to you, he may not understand what a regular paced relationship is at the start. But he'll be willing to learn and understand, he's a great listener and will rarely ever fight with you. His goal is too be nothing like his father, and being so calm and collected really helps him achieve it.

Q - Quizzes (Do they remember details?)

° He remembers too many, he knows what shirt you wore the first day you two met and he knows what the first thing you said to him was. If you ask him a simple question like 'What's my favorite color?' he'll answer correctly in an instant, he sees your Quizzes as a challenge and he refuses to get any of them wrong.

R - Remember (Favorite memory)

° His favorite memory was your first kiss. It was in the middle of winter and he insisted on staying with you at your dorm thanks to the raging blizzard outside. You both were huddled under the blankets as he stroked his heated hand over your back to warm you up, you looked up at Shouto smiling warmly as his softly heated hand lit up the small space under your blanket. You shifted forward gently, pressing a quick peck across his lips. Your lips were so much warmer compared to his, and the cute giggle you made after you backed away only left him flustered. "One more?" Shouto begged, already leaning in.

S - Security (How protective are they?)

° Very, he's not toxic or verbal about it however. But if you come home after a battle, he'll pretty much run towards you and shower you in praises. He trusts you to defend yourself, but it never fails to scare him when you fight without him by your side. The last thing he wants is for you to be alone and in danger, or worse die alone without saying goodbye.

T - Try (How much do they put in the relationship)

° Shouto tries his best at everything when it comes to you, he'll stay up all night researching what a boyfriend should do. He goes out of his way even if it seems like small gestures, Shouto will get better with the relationship as time passes. But don't let his cold façade fool you, this boy is wrapped around your finger and he doesn't plan on slipping off.

U - Ugly (Bad traits)

° Shouto is very blunt and can come off as almost emotionless at points, he will definitely try to work on it when he start dating you. But he honestly just can't help it at times, if you wear something not overly flattering he will straight up say you look terrible without realizing how harsh it comes off. He's also not the best at comforting so you'll have to teach him how.

W - Wildcard

° Shouto loves calling you angel and my love, he likes how they make you sound like royalty. Since in his eyes you are royalty, he won't call you generic nicknames like baby, babe, babygirl, princess and so on. He only uses your name, angel, my love, or if he's feeling flirty 'Soon to be Mrs. Todoroki'.

X - X's (How many Exes does he have?)

° He has many but not in a bad way, they all went on one date with him and never called him back because they didn't enjoy his lack of romance knowledge. Some names to point out are, Momo, Kendo, Shoji (Shouto gives off bi vibes), Tokoyami, Mina, A male and female reporter, and Ojiro. Momo went on two more dates with him, but ended it when she fell for Jirou.

Y - Yuck (Doesn't want in someone)

° He doesn't want someone who only likes him for his quirk or his looks, he wants them to like him for him and not because he's popular among many. Shouto will not date someone who is close minded either, I can see Shouto not judging someone by their looks and simply liking their personality, so if someone who is judgy hits on him he'll decline in an instant. He won't click well with someone aggressive, picky, dramatic, or who isn't committed fully in him. This goes without saying, but he'll never date someone his dad wants him to.

Z - Zzz (Sleeping habits)

° Can't sleep if you're still awake, you will have to fall asleep first or he won't sleep at all. He likes being the little spoon and he's open about it, he likes feeling babied and protected since he's not used to it. A way to easily make him tired is by playing with his hair and kissing over his head and scar.