ꜱʏɴ: Your Father, Shota Aizawa Is About To Be Enlisted For The War Against His Will, Along With The

˗ˏˋ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫 : 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭 ´ˎ˗

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

↳ sour honey :: 🔞

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↳ i know you love me :: 🔞

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

↳ hours :: 🔞

↳ pancakes

𝐡𝐜𝐬/𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

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𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

mean! Isagi Yoichi smut, AFAB reader, slight choking, hair pulling, rough sex, degredation!

mmmmm i have such bad mean isagi yoichi brainrot rn i can't even!

normally, isagi is so nice to you. he gives you presents, compliments, kisses, and just about everything you could ever possibly ask for, and you love it! he makes you feel like the most perfect person in the whole world, and you couldn't be happier.

but then you go to his games, and the man you see in the jersey is completely different. he's ruthless, hurling insults at the other players left and right. his eyes have a spark in them that ignites something in you as well. to make everything even more confusing, once the two of you reunite after the game, he's completely fine!

a little while later, the two of you are in your apartment, his head on your lap and you playing with his hair. The TV is showing reruns of the match, and you can't help but say, "I've never seen you that mean before."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," he says a bit bashfully, "I can get a little mean, I guess . . . but not to you though."

" . . . shame. I thought it was kinda hot."

before you know it, your on the two of your's bed, getting pounded into from behind. Isagi has his hand on the back of your head, his hands fisted in your hair. you're drooling into your pillow, muffled moans pouring from your mouth.

"Is this what you wanted, hm?" he growls, his hips snapping into your ass. he revels in the way the flesh bounces and he tosses his head back when you clench particularly tightly around his shaft. A low sound emanates in his chest and he chuckles darkly. "Ohhhh~ you fucking slut. You needed this didn't you?"

"yes 'ichi!" he pulls on your hair, tugging your head up from the pillow. He lowers his whole body against yours, his chest flush against your back. "haaahh~ ahhh~ 'ichi . . . i love it . . . ah- harder!"

"ohhh, my fucking girl," he complies and nibbles at your neck. "you're so dirty, coming to all my games, hearing me shit talk my opponents, and all you could think of was me talking to you like that? you wanna be treated like my little slut?"

You nod, and he releases your hair. That same arm snakes around your neck and puts you in a chokehold. "ahhhh- yoichi! I . . . I . . ."

"i know, i know," he coos, "oh, are you gonna come for me baby?"

"yes!" you gasp.

he pushes himself up and twines his fingers again in your hair. He tilts your head back, staring down at your blown out eyes, open mouth, and flushed face. he leans down to kiss your forehead, pausing his ministrations for a brief moment, before straightening to his full height again and continuing to thrust into you.

the sight that meets your eyes now is tantalizing.

isagi is covered in sweat, his face glowing from the sheen of it. his deep blue eyes hold a firey passion in them, his heady gaze ready to light you on fire at any moment. but the cherry on top of it all is the shit eating grin on his face. it pulls his mouth to the right in a smirk and his teeth are bared as he watches your debauched expression. the sight alone is enough to choke a whimper from you.

"c'mon babygirl," he coos, his thumb brushing your chin. "lemme see it. lemme see you come after finally getting what you've been dreaming of."

"'ichi!"

"Fuck!" he roars, feeling your juices soak him. he ruts his hips into you a few more times, trying to drain everything out of you. "That's it! just like that!"

after a few more pumps, he finally finds his release as well, your name escaping his mouth if a roar.

he collapses again against your back, nuzzling into your shoulder blades. he whispers soft words against your skin, but it's mostly incoherent.

finally, once you've regained your sanity, you turn to him. "You can get really mean, huh?" you tease.

He chuckles and shakes his head, a few drops of sweat falling onto you. "Yeah, was it too much?"

You smile and shake your head. You kiss his cheek and nuzzle into his face. "No, it was perfect."

Swapping Secrets and Spit (*NSFW*)

Pairing: D.M x Gryffindor! Reader Summary: You and Draco were notorious for meeting up for only moments to exchange information. You helped to let him know what Harry was up to, and he let you know exactly how to get an Outstanding on your potions exam. But would your feelings end up pushing him away or starting something exciting? W/C: 2.9k Tags: Sexual Content / cock teasing / oral stimulation (f/m) / face fucking A/N: NSFWWW. Lmao this got out of hand so fast LMAO [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

You exited transfigurations class and straight into the chaos of the hallways. Students coming from every corner attempting to make their way to their next class. Now usually was the perfect time for you and Draco to spot each other in the crowd and find a place to speak briefly. The roaring conversation of the students and the clamoring of their feet distracted most people from noticing the Slytherin Prince talking with a no-name Gryffindor.

You didn’t dislike Harry, that wasn't why you were feeding information to Draco at all. To be honest you were fascinated by him, and had a close schedule with the bunch to be able to inconspicuously listen and hear what they were up to. It wasn’t until your third year when Draco ultimately started teasing you about your involvement with them when you stood up for yourself. He found it surprising, and more interesting that you were bold enough to separate yourself from the Gryffindor heart throb.

Again.. You didn’t hate Harry Potter. But the interactions with Draco made you feel something, and if it meant just relaying information that was harmless to be in a room alone with him, you’d do it.

Some would call it a dumb hopeless crush, but you didn’t see anything wrong with it. It wasn’t something you told your friends about or Draco would let his goons know about. It was your own little secret. And you loved it.

You looked around casually as you descended the stairs to the main hallway. You waited to notice the blonde boy in green robes before you walked towards a broom closet just out of sight from the passing students. Waiting in the dark, you sat fiddling with your book bag trying not to look awkward.

It took a few minutes but Draco cracked the door open, and snuck his body in, his chest heaving. You look at him, eyes wide, unsure why he was worked up.

“Crabbe is actually going to be the death of me. The way he trips over his own feet is embarrassing.” He huffed, running his hand through his tousled hair. You waited for him to say more, but he just sat next to you attempting to catch his breath.

You cleared your throat, ready to jump into what you had heard lately. Umbridge had implemented new rules across the school, and it was harder and harder for you and Draco to meet. Even though Draco was a part of the Inquisitorial Squad, he typically saw the rules didn’t apply to him.

“They’ve started a club.” You whispered. Draco's eyebrows furrowed-

“A club? What, his three friends weren’t enough to soak up his emotional negligence as a child?” Draco snorted.

You just rolled your eyes. He didn’t understand but you didn’t understand the implications of the club either.

”No its like. A fighting club? A dueling club? I heard the sign up sheet had a curse on it, if you spoke about the club you’d get boils all over your face.” You added. His eyebrows relaxed as he took in your information.

“A dueling club? There’s not a place in the castle where they could do that secretly.” Draco chuffed. He believed you, but a part of him didn’t believe that they’d be able to get away with something under Umbridge's rule.

“That’s all I know.” You shrugged your shoulders. Draco sighed, but nodded his head satisfied with what you gave him. You couldn’t help but notice the new badge placed on his robes. You were about to compliment it before he pulled out his potions book, breaking you from your daze.

”Snape let us know that the O.W.L’s will have a practical and written examination but only of specific potions. You only need to know how to prepare and successfully write down the Draught of Peace, Strengthening solution, the invigor-“ Draco’s instructions were cut short, stopping to listen to the noise outside the door. He outstretched his hand to stop your writing, your hands vigorously attempting to write down everything he was saying. You paused with him leaning your body closer to the door. From down the hall, the voices of Blaise and Crabbe echoed. While he focused on the sounds in the hall, all you could think about was his hand resting softly on yours.

“Oy! Draco!” Crabbe started.

“Emergency meeting in 10!” Blaise finished.

Draco sighed looking at you almost apologetically, but his body language stayed firm. He took his hand back, letting it guide off your knuckles softly before collecting his things. He closed the textbook and shoved it in his bag.

“Meet me later in the library after curfew. Take the left stairway near the gargoyle statue and keep right. I'll wait for you.” Draco mumbled leaving you in the broom closet surrounded by silence. He came and went faster than you anticipated but that typically was how your meetings were arranged. Though this time was different, you were never invited to meet him again, nonetheless after curfew.

You tried your best not to imagine anything romantic, your mind wandering to a private meeting late at night with the boy. Part of you hated how you fell for him like the rest of the school girls. He was a brat, no good, but charming, beautiful, and suave. His demeanor in your little meetings felt different than when you saw him with his friends. He didn’t treat you the same, actually he didn’t really act like you existed outside of your meetings. But something festers within you, dumb hope perhaps.

You waited in your dorm, watching the clock on the wall tick meticulously. The other girls in your room were already fast asleep, all exhausted by the application of O.W.L’s and the combination of Umbridge's unfair laws. You took another look around before slowly unwrapping yourself from your bed, tiptoeing out of the room. It was just past 11:45, not too late into the night. You wrapped yourself in your sweatshirt and walked out the common room in just your socks. You thought the soft pads of your feet were a quieter way to get down the stone hallways.

Like Draco insisted, you walked around the castle finding the gargoyle and the left stairwell. You hadn’t heard or bumped into a single professor or heaven forbid Filch and his damn cat. The stairwell forked and you kept left. Your heart raced as you got closer to the library. He said he’d meet you but you didn’t know where. It wasn't until you turned the stairs again when your arm was tugged back and handed over your mouth.

Eyes wide, a voice whispered into your ear.

“Shh, It’s just me. Follow and don't make a noise. Okay?” Draco's voice was just barely audible. You nodded, his hand slowly moving away from your mouth. He walked ahead of you in silence to the top of the stairwell. You held your own hand against your cheeks, feeling the rush of blood turn you a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but watch him as he walked in front of you, his green plaid bottoms and black short sleeve shirt suited him well. It was as if he was wearing a separate Slytherin uniform, kept clean and pressed. His hair was damp, noting that he took night showers. You wished you could turn off your brain, he was just using you for information. That was it.

You got to an empty hallway, Draco opening a broom closet just near the library, ushering you in. You got inside, surprised by how much smaller it was to the one you typically shared downstairs. You waited for a moment as he joined you, lifting his arm up to pull a string, dull yellow light now cascading over you both.

You both stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Both of you weren’t exactly sure that the other would show up, the meeting feeling almost forbidden.

Draco cleared his throat. Unable to find his voice. He was incredibly close to you, your eyes looking up to him through your lashes. After a moment he looked up and around, trying not to stare. You stood there, breathing in his cologne, unable to think about anything else. You didn’t know whether to start speaking or wait to be spoken to. The silence was deafening.

“I just wanted to, let you know more about the potions exam.” Draco finally spoke, his voice raspy and slightly shaken. His hands were firmly to his sides, the sinking feeling of how close you two really were. He thought about asking if you wanted to find another closet, but he liked how you looked, looking up at him through your lashes. Blood rushed throughout his body, the room now getting warmer with both of you occupying such little space.

“That would be nice.” You spoke softly. All you could do was smile, adjusting your shirt slightly. You tried to look down to adjust your clothes further, out of anxiety mostly, but your forehead hit his chest, bumping into him. Your hand flung up to your mouth astonished and embarrassed. He just laughed, his arm moving and holding you up.

“I’m terribly sorry.” You whispered, trying to stand back as far as you can, though it didn’t make much of a difference. He now stood, his back to the door, his hands still on your shoulder. Both of you looked into each other's eyes for another second before the grip on your body pulled you every so slightly back into him. Draco leaned down, meeting you just before your lips met, hesitating before softly planting a kiss.

His hands slid up your shoulders, holding your neck as he kissed you again now, deeper. Your hands at your sides, almost afraid to reach out and touch him. You melted into his hands, your neck leaning to the side to let him get deeper. His hands moved from your neck to your arms, guiding them to his torso.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingers raking up and down his back. Draco started kissing you harder, his tongue flicking around your lips begging for more. You opened wider, both of your tongues meeting each other, moving around each other's mouths in quick succession. You could feel the room heat up, the sounds of your mouths enveloping all of your senses. Draco felt focused, curious about how far you’d let him. He craved your touch, the countless private meetings in broom closets, his mind constantly thinking of what he would do if you were really alone. How you were his pretty little detective, a spy on the inside.

His hand traveled to your knee, pulling it up around his torso as he leaned you back. You moaned into the kiss, taken away slightly by his movements. His hips met yours, the feeling of his growing member beneath his bottoms bumping slightly into your core as he kissed you. You ran your hands through his hair, the feeling of the cold damp strands bringing you some relief.

Draco began to lean his hips further into yours, his movements becoming more rhythmic with every passing movement. You were aching for his touch, the slight friction of your pants and his only partially alleviating your needs. You let your hands travel down his torso, breaking the kiss, palming him lightly. Draco's head dropped to his chest, his eyes fixated on your hands. You bit your lip, impressed by your confidence.

“Fuck darling.” His hands were still cupping your face lightly, holding your head as he enjoyed your touch. Soon your hands slipped under his waistband, tugging them lightly. He smiled, pulling you back into a kiss. His hands removed yours from his waistband and up above your head.

He trailed kisses from your arms to your neck, biting ever so slightly behind your ear. It took everything in him not to leave bruises, but he wanted to keep you his secret more than anything. His hands let go of yours, your arms now resting on your head. He lifted your shirt, kissing down your torso towards your waistline. He licked seductively at your navel, his hands slowly inching your pants down, your underwear still on.

Your breath hitched, the feeling of his hands rubbing down your legs, kissing and sucking your skin. He urged your foot to rest on his shoulder, his smile as he maneuvered himself closer in between your legs. You closed your eyes, your arm covering any light from coming through. He kissed your clit through the material, his thumb rubbing against the wet spot forming just below. He just smirked, rubbing soft circles watching your body react to his touch. He kept removing his hands, waiting for you to moan in protest, loving how you begged for him to continue. He did it one more time, waiting to hear your voice.

“Draco please.” You whispered, your knees shaking slightly in anticipation. He could feel his core seize hearing your voice say his name. So breathless, so low. His fingers moved your underwear to the side, his tongue immediately shoved down your cunt. The savory taste made Draco go crazy, his head bobbed slowly, using his hands to care for your clit as he focused on your hole.

He felt monstrous. He could be down there forever, enjoying every last drop of you. The way your leg pushed against his shoulder, the way you arched your back against the wall, clawing your hands in his hair. He was in heaven, and he wanted to make you feel good.

He moved his fingers off your clit, replacing it with his mouth, lapping and sucking lightly. His fingers teasing your hole, entering only slightly watching you get closer to your climax. Your body twitching, your knees slowly getting closer to the sides of his head. He let you move your legs, hips buckling as he sped up, the rush of euphoria overcoming you.

Draco stayed under you, watching you catch your breath. Your breasts now exposed, your hands pulling at your shirt in any attempt to release tension. Draco's hands moved to your hips, pulling himself up lightly. He moved your hands from your blushing face, kissing you deeply. The rush of your climax brought you back to reality, you two were in the broom closet on the top floor, making out … and doing much more. You couldn't believe it.

Your hands traveled back to his waistband, this time more demanding. You turned away from the kiss, moving to his jawline and around his neck. You continued to palm him through his pants, the feeling of his cock much larger than before. Your hands rubbed methodically through the paternal until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Lowering to your knees, you shimmied his pants down, your mouth filling with saliva as the seconds passed. You slightly scratched down his hips as you took off his underwear, the feeling making Draco’s head snap back in pleasure. His cock fully erect in front of you, almost intimidating in size. You took a deep breath placing your hands close to the shaft, kissing lightly at his tip.

You swirled your tongue around, savoring the salty precum before you took as much as you could in your mouth. Using your hands, you slowly started moving your head in motion, the sounds of Draco whimpering only making you go deeper.

His hands ran through your hand, grabbing all of it in his hand forcing you to take him deeper. You gagged, the vibrations making Draco’s hips twitch. The combination of his hands and his hips simultaneously forcing his cock down your throat with every thrust. The saliva was now dripping down your chin, all over your hands. You reached up to his hands on your head, urging him to push you further.

”Are you sure?” He asked, his voice breathless. You just nodded, your head still bobbing with his assistance. He soon used his hands to hold you in place, his hips pushing his cock into your mouth, face fucking you. The feeling was out of this world, you focused your cheeks and breath in between his movements. Your eyes welled with tears but the moment made you rush. Your hands ran down in between your legs, quickly rubbing your clit sloppily as Draco used your mouth.

Draco's moans were suppressed, only the sounds of you gagging making him slip up, moaning your name into the air. He thrusted his hips one last time, his thighs shaking as he shot a warm liquid down your throat. Your jaw sore and tongue chaffed from the event. He leaned back taking his cock out of your mouth allowing you to fully breath in and out, juices spilling over your mouth. You stayed on the floor catching your breath. Draco turned noticing paper towels just to his left, wiping his tip before pulling his pants up. Kneeling down to you, he lovingly wiped your face, taking the time to make sure he got everything off. Your face was flustered, eyes closed just enjoying the peace.

Draco stared at you, your face red, the small smile on your face. He was absolutely smitten by you. He hated that he’d credit Potter to you two meeting, but he would never have it any other way.

ISAGI YOICHI was already enamoured from just the soft pink blush which glazed your cheeks, fingers wrapped around a small plastic bag as he looked down at you in surprise. Not once in his sixteen years of living had he ever received something on this somewhat momentous day, besides from a few mindless sweets from a classmate. So he was quite surprised when the person he had been secretly plotting on was standing right in front of him, heart bared to him and all.

His eyes flickered between your nervous expression and the high-quality handmade chocolates which were enveloped between your shaking fingers. A small smile found its way onto his lips, eyes crinkled endearingly as he let out a small chuckle, catching your attention. 

He took the pink plastic bag into his own hands, admiring the sprinkle ridden sweets which it cased. He had already seen the candy which you had given to your classmates, a mere comparison to the ones he withheld now. It was cute - how every detail was perfected, down to the placement of a pearl-like sprinkle. 

“Isagi, I-” You stop yourself. Lips stuttered open and close, blush only deepening once his lips pulled into a smirk. 

He let his head cock to the side, watching you with a curious eye as you fumbled over your words, over his name, unable to compose the jumble of thoughts running through your head. He took a step forward as your eyes trailed down to the floor again, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of your white uniform.

Honestly, he wanted to hear your confession fall from pink lips more than he’d like to imagine, which is why he found himself tugging you a bit closer, leaning into your ear to whisper,

“You were saying?”

He could almost feel the fire which seeped from your cheeks, finding seclusion pressed against his chest. Your face, flushed a pretty shade of burgundy, looked up at him curiously, somewhat surprised at the almost intimate arm he wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. 

Isagi had decided that, if you weren’t going to say it, then he would.

“Do you like me too?” He mumbled softly, fingers brushing against your shirt-clothed arm as he tugged you closer. You nodded, and he pressed his lip together tightly, suppressing a sweet sound which threatened to bubble out of his throat. He was so captivated by everything about you, how you melted so perfectly against him.

Maybe that’s why he found himself the next month, spending tireless hours tempering his own rich, delicate bonbons with a perfectly arranged bouquet of your favourite florals, sitting opulent, on the counter nearby.

©heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

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love love love

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

hii can i please request a scenario of xavier x reader secretly dating (office dating kinda) but got found out by someone because of something they did out of habit? love your writings btw🤩

Dear jeondyy,

Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like this little fluffy story <3

Your Little Secret —He never wants to be just your little secret.

ಇ. Xavier x Female Reader

ಇ. Tags: fluff, office dating, secret dating

ಇ. Word count: ~1k8

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

Recently, Tara "sensed" something was going on at headquarters, and she was determined to uncover the mystery.

At first, things were not clear to Tara; she just had a faint impression that her peers were changing in ways she was unaware of. After many days of observation, she reached a stunning conclusion:

“Xavier is definitely dating!”

You coughed out the mouthful of water you had just drunk, prompting the computer screen in front of you to get wet. Tara looked at you with suspicious eyes:

“What's wrong with you?”

You quickly grabbed a piece of tissue from the table to wipe your face, avoiding Tara's inquisitive gaze.

"Ah… no… Nothing…" You murmured in answer. "I was just… a little surprised why you thought Xavier was dating…"

Your attention swiftly turned to the opposite side of the office, where Xavier was seated with his chin resting on the desk, his eyes half-closed as if having a nap.

"I have proof!" Tara continued, then moved her foot to push her chair closer to you. Raising one hand as a covert gesture, Tara whispered into your ear. “Xavier hadn't been to headquarters too frequently before. Every mission was sent particularly to him. However, he is now arriving at work on a regular basis and leaving late. Isn't that suspicious?”

You nodded in accord to please Tara. She spoke more: “There are also a few other miscellaneous things... Like phone charms! That adorable rabbit charm was definitely given to him by a girl!”

Your face turned pale. You glanced at the phone on your desk before swiftly grabbed and stuffed it into the pocket of your jacket. However, Tara caught the act. She lifted her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Xavier is undoubtedly dating. I just need to find out who his girlfriend is!”

A shiver ran through your body. Tara was concerned by the look and asked:

“Are you sure you're okay? You look pale!”

“Maybe… it's because the air conditioning here is a bit low… Um… I'll adjust it!”

After saying that, you rose up and went away. When you reached the vacant balcony and looked down at the city of Linkon beneath your feet, you breathed a sigh of relief. Your hand went into the jacket and took out the phone and held it up high. A phone charm shaped like a white cotton bunny swung in front of you.

It was a pair, with one dangling from Xavier's phone.

Simply put; Xavier's mysterious girlfriend whom Tara was looking for was you. It all started a month ago, when he and you formally began dating…

"You want to keep us a secret?" Xavier inquired, his tone somewhat disappointed.

"Yes… I believe we should focus on work for the time being. Captain Jenna also stated that office dating should be limited..."

Xavier was quiet for a long time. You felt like you'd let him down so much. He took a brief peek outside the window before returning his attention to you.

“If you want it that way, so be it.”

"Thank you!" You shouted, along with that a feeling of relief in your heart.

“But,” Xavier said abruptly, and you began to faintly sense the constraints tied to his agreement to do what you desired. “Outside of working hours or at places where there are no colleagues, I can touch you, I can hold your hand or embrace you as much as I want!”

You blushed. Your body was still adjusting to Xavier's unexpected touches, but you had to confess that you were anticipating them a lot.

"Okay. Just outside the workplace environment..."

Before you could finish speaking, Xavier came closer and placed a somewhat fierce kiss on your lips. Knowing that he had to suffer a disadvantage by playing the role of your secret lover in this manner, you accepted his sulking and promised yourself that you would find an appropriate occasion to inform everyone about the relationship between the two of you.

Tara, however, was one step ahead. You had no clue when she first noticed Xavier's alterations; all you knew was that once she started, she would not stop until his secret was out into the light.

Afraid that Tara would notice your phone charm was paired with Xavier's, you removed it and kept it at home. The following days, when he noticed you weren't using it, he inquired:

“Where is the bunny hanging on your phone?”

“Ah… I put it away… Everyone at headquarters will notice we have matching stuff.”

Xavier said nothing more after hearing your explanation. You just noticed him softly clutching his bunny charm. That pair of phone charms was a present you got from the claw machines at the arcade on a date. Looking around the home, you realized you had kept a lot of lovely ornaments from your dates.

Among them were two pairs of house slippers with bunny plushies on top that Xavier must have intentionally brought his own to work.

“See those slippers? This means he's definitely dating!” Tara mumbled to herself next to you. “Why do they look like some of the slippers given away at the arcade nearby?”

Tara turned to look at you for support, but all she saw was your bloodless face and your fingers squeezing the pen as if you wanted to shatter it in half.

When you got home that day, you interrogated Xavier.

“Why did you wear those slippers to work?”

He calmly replied: “I don't like wearing Hunter's boots forever. My legs need to rest as well. So I brought it to headquarters for more comfort.”

“You… You could have chosen another pair!”

You sighed. Xavier gave a triumphant half-smile: "You're worrying too much. As long as you don't bring your pair to headquarters, Tara won't find out. Just let her run around assuming things.”

“You don't cooperate at all!” You said with a bit of frustration. As soon as you turned to leave, Xavier grabbed your wrist and drew you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“I merely agreed to keep our relationship a secret, therefore I won't tell anyone that my girlfriend is you. It's not my fault if someone figures it out on their own, right?"

He was right, to the point where your argument would be invalid. You stood still as he held and kissed you. To be honest, keeping this love story a secret proved to be challenging for you, especially since all you wanted to do was shout for the entire world to know, Xavier was yours.

Tara and you used to go out to dinner or have boba tea together after work before dating Xavier. But since having Xavier in your life, you had to continuously refuse Tara's offers, which made her suspicious.

“Where are you going after work?”

"Huh? Where am I going? I just go straight home? I've been a bit tired lately..."

Tara cast you a distrustful glance. "You're not hiding yourself on a date with some guy, are you?!"

You tensed up in your office chair, startled. You feigned to concentrate on the report in front of you, without responding to Tara. She refused to let this go, staring at you with the attitude of a tiger seeking its prey.

You thought that this ought to end.

That evening, as scheduled, you met Xavier at the arcade. You decided to cease meeting after work and go home with him for a while, at least until you completed the upcoming mission. Captain Jenna entrusted you with immense responsibility and did not forget to emphasize that any distractions, especially dating, should be terminated. But you understood that this also meant breaking his heart.

Xavier gripped your hand strongly as you strolled through the arcade. You hadn't said anything to him since you were still trying to find the right words. But he appeared to already know what you were thinking.

“If you're worried about the next mission, we can take a break from dating for now…”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn't believe Xavier had just proposed it out of concern for you. But before you could react, a very familiar voice echoed from the enormous white teddy bear on one side of the path.

“Ha! I caught you both red-handed!”

Tara's face emerged behind the bear's arm. She went out, stood in front of you and Xavier, even pointed at you.

"You two just admitted it yourself!"

"Tara…" You called out, but she was furious.

"And you?! For so long you knew what I was suspecting, but you never said a word! You didn't bother to tell me YOU. ARE. DATING. XA-VI-ER!”

"Oh Tara, please keep your voice down a bit…" You clasped her hand, hoping to soothe her rage. “I was going to tell you… But it's not the right time yet…”

“So how long are you going to hide this from me? Am I your best friend? I'm so disappointed! Extremely disappointed!”

Tara backed away from you and folded her arms across her chest. You turned to Xavier for aid, but he feigned to know nothing, while it was all thanks to his "accidental" clues that she easily discovered this secret.

“I'm really sorry, Tara… Honestly, I'm worried how everyone at headquarters will react when they find out that Xavier and I are… dating…” When the words came out of your lips, telling others about you and Xaiver, you felt both fluttering and thrilled. Looking to the side, the corner of his mouth twisted up into a smile.

“Now you know my reaction!” Tara was still pouting. “You two will have to bribe me if you want my help keeping this a secret!”

"Of course." You smiled conciliatory while embracing Tara's arm. “Shall I buy you some boba tea?”

"For one month." Tara raised her finger and replied. “You will pay for all the boba tea I'll have for a whole month. The revelation that two of Linkon's top Hunters are dating will be surprising, you know! Who could guess what Captain Jenna would say about this.”

"Alright. One month it is." On the outside you were smiling, but on the inside, you were grieving for this month's earnings. “Will you help us keep it a secret until I finish my next mission?”

Tara nodded cheerfully. You sighed with relief and looked at Xavier. He smiled at you. His fingers intertwined with yours. t felt lovely to be able to freely hold his hand in public. Perhaps now you could see why Xavier never intended to keep this relationship a secret from the start.

Pictures are from X

Fool's Heart (Part 1) - Liam Mairi

summary: reader has always brushed off Liam’s flirting, knowing he never stays with one girl for long—but when she finally admits to herself that she wants more, she finds him with someone else. Heartbroken, she avoids him until he confronts her.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: angst word count: 1.8k

Part 2: Click here

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

Y/N sat on her bed, staring blankly at the stone wall across from her, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She hadn't meant for this to happen. Falling for Liam Mairi was never part of the plan. He was a flirt, a charmer, someone who never stuck with one girl for long. And yet, here she was, her chest tightening at the thought of him with someone else.

Y/N had never cared about Liam’s reputation. At least, that’s what she told herself. He was the golden boy of their squad—brilliant in battle, effortlessly charming, and infuriatingly attractive. But he was also a flirt, one who never lacked new romances. Twice a week, without fail, another girl would slip into his room, and twice a week, Y/N would bury herself under her blanket, pretending she couldn’t hear the muffled giggles or the sound of a door shutting a room away.

Earlier that day, they had been in the training yard, catching their breath after sparring. Liam leaned against the wooden post, his shirt damp with sweat, a lazy grin playing on his lips. "You know, Y/N, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you like what you see." Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Liam, I could be blindfolded and still land a hit on you. Maybe focus on your footwork instead of flirting?"

Liam let out a dramatic sigh, pushing off the post to step closer. "You wound me, truly. Here I am, offering you the privilege of my undivided attention, and you just throw it away." She smirked, shaking her head. "Undivided? You were flirting with that second-year cadet not even five minutes ago." Liam chuckled. "Jealous?" Y/N scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Please. I just think it’s funny that you recycle the same lines. You should at least try to be original."

His grin widened. "Oh, but I am. See, the thing is, none of them get the same treatment as you.” She felt her stomach flip at his words but masked it with an unimpressed expression. "So, what you’re saying is, I’m special?" Liam leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "Very." Y/N stared at him for a beat before shoving him again. "Go shower, Mairi. You stink." His laughter echoed as she turned on her heel and walked away, but she couldn’t shake the warmth spreading in her chest.

A knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts. "Y/N? You in there?" Violet’s voice was gentle, but firm. Y/N hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, come in." Violet stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She took one look at Y/N’s expression and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, spill." Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face. "It’s nothing." Violet snorted. "Bullshit. You've been weird around Liam for weeks. And before you say anything, I've seen the way you look at him. What’s going on?"

Y/N bit her lip, hesitating. Then, before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out. "I think—I know—I have feelings for him. And it’s driving me insane because he’s Liam. He’s never serious about anyone." Violet nodded slowly, as if she had already known. "What changed? You guys have always been close, but something’s different now." Y/N exhaled sharply, her mind flooding with memories. "It’s always been there, I think, but I just ignored it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it because I knew it wouldn’t matter. He flirts with everyone. But lately... lately it’s been different."

Violet crossed her arms. "How so?" Y/N let out a humorless laugh. "It’s the little things. The way he always makes sure I have my favorite seat at the table. How he somehow remembers the exact way I take my tea, even though I only drink it when I’m sick. The way he teases me, but it’s never too much. He always knows when to stop, when to be serious."

She swallowed hard before continuing. "A few weeks ago, I was freezing after drills, and he just—he just wrapped his jacket around me without saying a word. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, didn’t expect anything in return. And then there was that night after sparring when I was exhausted, and he just sat with me in the common room, letting me rant about how much I sucked. He told me I was strong, that I was getting better. He said he believed in me." Y/N let out a shaky breath. "It’s stupid. I’m being stupid. He is just a friend."

Violet shook her head. "It’s not stupid, Y/N." "It is," Y/N insisted. "Because at the end of the day, he still has a different girl in his bed every other night. And I’m just another cadet in his squad." Violet studied her best friend for a moment before sighing. "Look, I won’t pretend to know exactly what’s going on in Liam’s head, but I do know one thing—he cares about you. I see it. We all see it. And maybe, just maybe, he’s been waiting for you to see it, too."

Y/N shook her head. "And what if he hasn’t? What if I go to him and he laughs in my face? Or worse, what if he doesn’t even care?" Violet grabbed Y/N’s hand, squeezing it. "You’ll never know unless you try." Y/N hesitated, her heart hammering in her chest. And then, with a deep breath, she stood. "Okay. I’m going to talk to him."

By talking to Violet, she had found the courage to do something about it. To go to him. To knock on his door and tell him that she—The sight of him stopped her cold. Liam was leaning against his doorway, shirtless, his pale skin illuminated by the flickering hallway torches. And in front of him, pressed against his chest, was a girl.

Blonde, beautiful, draped in nothing but one of his shirts. His hands rested on her waist, his head dipping close as he whispered something that made her giggle softly. Y/N’s stomach twisted violently. She should move. She should run. But her legs refused to work. All she could do was stand there, helpless, as Liam’s lips found the girl’s neck, as she curled into him, as his door clicked shut behind them. And just like that, everything shattered.

A sharp inhale burned her lungs. She pressed her fingers against the cold stone wall, willing herself to breathe, to stay upright. But it was impossible, because the truth had never been clearer. It had never been her. Not really. She had let herself believe in something that was never hers to have. That she was somehow different. That the way he looked at her meant something. That she wasn’t just another girl who could be so easily forgotten in the morning.

Gods, she was an idiot. A broken laugh escaped her lips, bitter and self-deprecating. Of course this was how it would end. Of course she would be the fool who thought Liam Mairi could be anything other than what he was. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned on her heel, her vision blurring as she walked away. She would be fine. Eventually. But tonight, she let herself grieve the fantasy she had so stupidly let herself believe in.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Y/N spent the next week and a half avoiding Liam like the plague. She skipped meals when she knew he’d be in the dining hall, trained at odd hours to avoid crossing paths, and stuck close to Violet or Rhi whenever she had to be in the same room as him. But it was impossible to avoid him forever, especially when they were in the same squad. 

Liam noticed. At first, she thought he might not. He had enough distractions—flirtations, fights, responsibilities—to keep him occupied. But by the end of the second week, it was clear he had run out of patience. His stares had become more pointed, his usual teasing remarks absent, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

That evening, as she tried to slip out of the training hall before he could catch her, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, but she forced herself to stay rigid, unreadable. “Alright,” Liam’s voice was low, rough, tinged with irritation. “What the hell is going on?” Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she turned to face him. His piercing blue eyes bore into hers, full of confusion, frustration, and something else she couldn’t name. Her pulse pounded, her instincts screaming at her to run, but his grip on her wrist—firm, steady—held her in place.

“Nothing,” she muttered, attempting to tug her hand away. He didn’t let go. “Bullshit.” His voice sharpened, his brows drawing together. “You’ve been avoiding me for days—weeks, actually. You barely look at me, you leave the second I walk into a room, and don’t even try to deny it because I see it every damn time. You won’t even spar with me anymore. What did I do?” His voice softened just slightly at the end, the frustration laced with something dangerously close to hurt, and that nearly broke her. But she refused to let him see how much this was tearing her apart.

Y/N clenched her jaw, anger bubbling up—not at him, but at herself. Anger for feeling this way. Anger for thinking she had been special. Anger for hoping. “You didn’t do anything, Liam,” she snapped, her own voice betraying the turmoil inside her. “That’s the problem.” His brows furrowed, his head tilting slightly as he tried to piece her words together. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head. “It means I’m an idiot,” she bit out, her chest tightening with every word. “It means I let myself think—just for a second—that maybe you were different with me. That maybe I actually meant something to you.” Liam’s grip on her wrist slackened slightly, his expression shifting from frustration to something raw—something she couldn’t bear to see.

“Y/N—” “I saw you,” she cut him off, her voice cracking despite her best efforts. “That night. With that girl. And I felt like a fucking idiot because I actually thought—” She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head at herself. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Liam’s lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. And that silence, that hesitation, was worse than anything he could have said.

Her throat burned as she swallowed against the lump forming there. “I have feelings for you, Liam,” she admitted, the words barely more than a whisper. “And I hate myself for it.” Then, before he could say anything, before he could see the tears welling in her eyes, she yanked her wrist free and turned away, walking off before the weight of her own words could crush her completely.

Part 2: Click here

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