marj, 26, simp @missmarj - Tumblr Blog

Enji Todoroki × Reader, angst

Inspired by this Enji 🫠 Warnings: implied smut

The tips of your fingers are cold and numb. Stark contrast of the scalding ache in your chest that radiates through your entire being, bringing tears in your e/c eyes. Your tearful gaze flickers from the fancy invitation in front of you to the silhouette of the man that's been the bane of your existence since you have realized you have fallen for him.

Enji throws you a glance over his shoulder as he redresses. For a second, you thought you saw remorse flash through those devastatingly breathtaking ocean eyes.

"I don't expect you to come," he says, averting his gaze as his thick fingers work the buttons of his dress shirt. The same one he wore this morning to ask the hand of the woman he intends to marry. "But I figure it'd be far worse not to at least let you know."

You were quick to mask your despair with a well practiced smirk. "How considerate of you." You chide, your tone betraying your facade. You fill the following silence with the clicking of the lighter as you set a cigarette ablaze.

Now fully dressed, Enji walks around your bed to sit across from you by the window ledge. He reaches and touches your face, memorizing your beautiful features illuminated by the Musutafu city night lights knowing this will be the last time he'll see you. Like this, at least. With skin in technicolor from the works of his hands and mouth, hair a mess from being under his grasp and from rounds of being tossed around in bed, soft kiss bruised lips that he almost always wounds by biting a little too hard.

He glares at the cigarette between them and asks, "I thought you quit smoking?" He takes the thing from between your lips and you frown as you watch him put it out with his bare hand. "I did." You shrug. "I guess I just can't live without at least one bad thing in my life."

The both of you take a deep breath at the exact same time.

"So I take it this is goodbye, then?" You ask as you look out the window, already knowing the answer.

"I am a lot of things, but I will not add disloyal to my long list of flaws." He mutters. You smile wryly, keeping your eyes on the cars passing below your apartment building. You feel pathetic as you realize you're even considering being a fucking mistress if that meant getting to keep him in your life.

"Was there ever a chance? For you and I?" You couldn't help but ask. Thinking about how in the span of time you spent together, didn't you ever stand a chance in his heart? Despite giving this fucked up arrangement with him your all?

The question had Enji clenching his jaw. He long accepted that his heart is close to nonexistent. All he ever is to him is ambition and greed. But as he stares at you, for a split second, he almost wants to reconsider everything.

You startle when he suddenly pulls you to him, sitting you in his lap and kissing you hard. Salty tears slip past your lips and his, Enji couldn't tell whose it was. Your hands card through his crimson hair in a desperate attempt to keep him in your grasp, reveling in how his big rough hands seem to hold you with the same desperation. Kneading and pulling you bruisingly tight against his body.

But then, he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. And you knew your answer when you looked at him. When you saw his eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed into a thin line, nostrils flared as he pushed air down his lungs. He does love you, whether he admits it or not, it's just.. not enough. And it never will be. You never will.

"You are.. despicable." You whisper. "But I already knew that and chose to love you anyway." A sigh of defeat escapes you as you now look at him with pity.

"I hope you know that this marriage, the children you will bear with this innocent woman.. it would not result in you attaining this 'dream' of yours. You're going to put everyone in misery. And I refuse to be one of those people. Not anymore."

"Goodbye, Enji." You murmur as you crawl back in bed with your back against him. The moment you hear the door click close softly as he left, you sob against your pillow that still smells of him.

—

You probably cursed him the day he broke your heart completely, Enji thinks to himself as he stares at the protesting crowd outside the central hospital. He was still foggy with anesthetics but the ache in his heart was sharp and it brought him to tears.

You were right. You've always been.

And now that he's faced with the repercussions of the poor decisions he has made in the past, he could not help but wonder what if he just gave up on his selfish endeavors and accepted that fact that he can and could have been happy with you.

Sparing Rei, Fuyumi, Touya, Natsuo and Shoto from all this hell he brought to them.

If only he was smart enough then to realize then that maybe, you were all he needed.

#angst #todoroki x reader #todoroki endeavor #todoroki family #mha todoroki #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha endeavor #mha fanfiction

lotustiled

sketching zutara kisses is my comfort activity

burst-of-iridescent

For as long as she can remember, Katara has dreamed of her first kiss.

After all, there is not much else to do in a village decimated by war than lose oneself in imagination. During the day, amidst cooking and laundry and yelling at Sokka, Katara imagines the day she can call herself a waterbending master, the day her father returns from war, the day the Avatar comes back.

At night however, snuggled between her grandmother and brother, Katara allows her mind to wander to more girlish fantasies. She thinks of the boy she will love, the man she will marry, the children she will have, and lulls herself to sleep with dreams of a future she knows she may never have.

When her first kiss happens, as is customary, it does not live up to expectations.

Sure, Jet is tall and brave and handsome, and her heart flutters like a sparrow bee when he pulls her close, but there is an edge to the kiss that turns her stomach. She chalks it up to nerves and leaves, blushing, and later - much later - curses herself for not recognizing the taste of bitter hate on her tongue.

Her second kiss happens in the dark, a clumsy fumbling of mouth against mouth. It is sweet and gentle, as is her best friend, and even though it is a little desperate and a little awkward, at least it does not sting in the aftermath. Katara thinks she can live with that.

(Years afterward, she will wonder how she ever came to such a conclusion.)

Her third kiss is different.

It begins in dreams, borne of humid nights on the beach and laughing conversations amidst steam and flame. Dreams turn to want and want turns to fierce longing, until her third kiss becomes months in the making and still, still, remains denied to her.

It is on a sun-drenched morning in the Fire Nation, three weeks after the sky burned crimson and lightning scorched the royal palace courtyard, that Katara finally stops waiting and just does.

Zuko is still holding the fire lily in his hands, shy smile on his face, when she leans in.

The smile fades to something like stunned awe and hesitant disbelief, pink brushing the lines of his cheekbones. This close, she can see the individual flecks of amber amongst the gold of his irises, the way his lips curve upwards as they form her name. He’s leaning in now, drawn toward her by the same magnetism that has pulled them back to each other over and over again, that has led them to this exact moment, right here, when the world stills to the touch of his lips against hers.

Kissing Zuko is everything.

It is the soft touch of daylight on the horizon after a long winter, the summer sunshine of lazy afternoons on Ember Island surrounded by everyone she loves. Kissing Zuko is not Jet’s burning rage, nor Aang’s passive uncertainty; it is the gentle heat of the hearth after a hunt, the weight of her mother’s knitted blanket around her shoulders; it is warmth, safety, home.

His hand slips into her hair, tangling in the loose waves beneath her bun to grip her closer to him. His other hand rests on her hip, and hers settles on his chest, fingers splaying across his torso, where the edges of his starburst scar are burned into her memory.

When they break apart, seconds, minutes, hours later, they are both smiling.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” her brilliant boy says, with eyes like twin candleflames, and Katara falls in love all over again.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she echoes, and thinks of the two of them, both wanting and holding back, kept silent by fear for no reason at all, and the whole thing seems so absolutely ridiculous in hindsight that there’s nothing she can do but laugh.

“We’re a pair of idiots,” she giggles, leaning her head into the crook of his neck as she hugs him.

“Well,” Zuko says thoughtfully, arms coming up around her to cocoon her in warmth, “I was probably going to be one anyway, so at least now I get to do it with you.”

Then they’re both laughing, the sound of their mingled voices reverberating off stone and wood and water, wrapped in each other’s arms, and though it is not her perfect first kiss, nor her second, it’s better than anything she could have dreamed of.

And if this is what the rest of Katara’s life is going to be like, well -

She thinks it’s a pretty good start.

after seeing this beautiful art circulating on my feed all day, i couldn’t not write fic for it. i hope i did this stunning work justice <3

lotustiled

HI HELLO DON’T MIND ME JUST DROWNING IN MY OWN SCREAMS AND TEARS. you write so beautifully :’) thank you for this gem!

lotustiled

i couldn't stop thinking about zutara with this audio so i went ahead and made a short animatic (based on their cave scene in book 2!)

idk how it turned out bc i made this as a brainrot-fueled machine who just wanted to materialize her visions but.. i hope you enjoy (eng cc available!)

tteokdoroki

once you and zuko wed, he finds himself constantly looking for your hands.

his honeyed-ember eyes drawn to the glint of gold, hand-forged by one of the nations finest blacksmiths, nestled neatly on your left hand — a circle of eternal fate that ties him to you forever. the sight of your wedding ring settled the dramatic drum of his heart, because you made a promise to him, one of forevers and late nights and early mornings and meals for two. you’ve always wanted to be his and he’s always wanted to be yours. now it’s true, now it’s a fact.

there’s no need to be jealous when you shake the hands of ambassadors that eye you like a prize to be won, because at every congress and gathering — you are introduced as the wife of the fire lord, queen of the fire nation. a little piece of him tied to your name. you find his hand and you squeeze, the metal cool against his palms that sizzle with flickering flames of annoyance. somehow you’ve always grounded him.

there’s a pride that fills zuko, when little girls from your home and tribe ask if you’ve married a prince whenever they set their sights on the bedazzled band on your ring finger. there’s a blush that spreads violently from the tips of his ears down to the back of his neck, a scarlet hue stark even against the burn scar from his youth, when the elders pinch and pull zuko’s cheeks inspecting him. you’ve done well, they tell you. they’d have snatched him up and married him too — if they were younger. though, the ring could have been bigger, they mention. he is the fire lord after all.

when you train, when your body moves with the fluidity of water that has shaped the earth into the one he’s lucky enough to walk with you — zuko teaches himself to locate your wedding ring amongst your bending. the pools of water that loop around your liquid like a shield or a weapon only you have the strength to muster, add to the ring’s dazzle. he finds you dazzling then, one with the water — where life both begins and ends in one full circle. you’ve always told zuko, that your destinies are looped, that water had guided you to him and vice versa. you would born for each other. to die with each other — even if you find your power a means to his end.

zuko wouldn’t mind if it were you who put his flames out. he had made a promise at an altar with the world his witness. he would live and die by you. for you.

at night, when the sun’s flames ebb way and fade into petal pinks and midnight blues across her sky — zuko searches for your hand in the dark like a moth drawn to a single source of light. his lips graze the ring and his hands map your body with the same determination he’s always possessed. the rock at the centre breaks the chapped skin there at the same your own lips part with a soft, shattered moan because the fire lord’s goal has been the same from the start. he wants to prove himself worthy of the wedding ring, the promise of eternity, that sits heavy on your finger. if not during the day with his actions and his loyalties, then at night where your bodies meet like the tides and shores under the guidance of the moon’s gentle command. tangled limbs and interwoven fingers, pleasure that hangs like stars in the night sky.

zuko, throughout it all, searches for your hand, the wedding band, just make sure that it’s still there and that you still love him so.

tteokdoroki

thinking about firelord zuko who very quickly discards tradition as soon as you’re married.

he never walks ahead of you, always a few paces behind like he has a better view or he’s appreciating a sight only to be seen once in a life time. your fingers stay interlaced beneath heavy cloaks that bare the emblem of his home nation, but nowadays yours is stitched into the fabric with threads imported from your own. right above his. right above his heart.

zuko who’s shadow takes shape in the darkness, allowing your light to filter through a room full of opinionated others. he knows the extent of your capability extends beyond the wildest dreams, far greater than those who stand around you waiting for the crack in your visage. you’re strong, even if you stand a few heads shorter than him, your voice is loud and oftentimes the most correct in a room full of static and noise. he’d never let you feel less than, he never speaks for you, lips only parting to clear the buzz in the air and to allow attention to fall to you.

fire lord zuko who insists on being your right hand at every table — leaving you to take a seat at his head. he can’t stand the thought of eating meals at opposite ends — where the distance makes him feel lost, too far from home. he eats to your right where he can listen to the mundane up close, watch the way your lips curl around bites of food or a the words that make up tale from your tribe. he listens like the world has stopped for the two of you, like a nation in need of rule can wait another day for its lord and his princess.

in a similar fashion, he tends to you like a devout follower. even if there are handmaids and tailors and people to help. every door you’ve ever walked through is held open by him. for you. he lifts the straying edge of your train with a certain reverence, treating extra fabric like it’s an extension of you. zuko twirls the braids into your hair in the fashion that you like, undoes the lacing strings of your attire with fumbling fingers that only know the roughness of flames after a late night — because even though his mess of your garments is embarrassing, it makes you laugh in a way that warms him like honey notes in milk before bed.

zuko preps the water that laps at the tension in your shoulders and eases it away with hands that move like molten lava. rose petals bob along the surface, perform twizzles in the ripples of water that ebb around the lines of your body. worn down by work, diplomatic duties but tended to by unspoken love and adoration. zuko sinks into the tub behind you, bare and warm — his chin on your shoulder and face in your neck because that’s the only place he’s found safe enough to call home.

when you’re married to zuko, life is not instantly easier and the traditions of others still find their way into your relationship as performative duty… but he carries part of the load. he makes it simpler for you, because loving you, is simple too.

satanisasofties

My Firelord Can’t Possibly Be This Cute!???

zuunary

geto and zuko twin moment

ashcremated

shhhh theyre sleeby 🤏🤏

missmarj