Hello! My name is Ridley and I'm a writer, I write both fanfiction for many genres and fandoms, but also original and OC works. I have a Kofi account and accept commissions, so if you like what you read you are more than welcome to dm me anytime! More info for Commissions is on my Kofi!
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Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Love was complicated.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto hadnāt been entirely sure what love was months ago. He had thought that he had known what it was. Complicated, only complicated, with people who hurt him when they said they loved him. A father who was quicker with brutal training, harsh words, and punishment than he ever was with praise. That is when he was there and not doing hero work to get the #1 spot. The closest heād felt to real love was his mother, a woman who had been supportive and loving to him every day when he was young. Until she had a mental break after giving their father 4 heirs and realized he would always hurt her. Endeavor had pushed her too far, and as a result, she maimed his perfect heir in a way that would never heal. Tou-nii. His oldest brother had loved and protected him in ways that no one else ever dared to. The memories were old and fuzzy; Tou-nii had gone out in a blaze of glory and left behind a devasted trio of siblings before Shoto could really have concrete memories of him. Expectations, tragedy, the blurry grasp of something not quite there anymore; love was heavy.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā A burden.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Then, heād met Izuku, and it was like heād found a window in a locked room. The green-haired chaos incarnate was soĀ bright.Ā Never hesitating to save others or throw himself in the line of fire with a determination bordering on psychotic. Analyzing and strategizing quirks with manic fervor and low mumbling, eyes flicking back and forth and hands twitching as if he were writing down the notes in his mind. Who had faith in Shoto that had been proven unconditional and pure. Even in the face of abuse, he would smile, even if the grins went from warm to sharp like knives.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Izuku who broke himself to pieces and still kept going to help Shoto without a second thought or a hint of reluctance. The same man that he had run to after being sent only a location with no explanation. Because he knew.Ā He knew.Ā In the past, heād let the last person he loved out of his sight; he blew himself up. And Shoto already knew; the second after, he felt flames lick up from his skin voluntarily to help Izuku. This was love. Love for the boy with a thousand freckles was much stronger than any of the hate he had for himself or his father.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Blunt, bold, hesitant was not a word that he would ever use to describe himself. As it turned out, his beau was even more shameless than he was.Ā Izu had affectionately told him once that he didnāt like to waste time when he found something that he liked. And he liked Shoto enough to not even blink at saying yes.Ā Shoto had made a single reach out, holding out a flower made of ice in his hand outside of Izukuās dorm. His freckles had disappeared with the size of his grin as Izu grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into his room.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto had not complained one bit.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Imagine if they ever had kids. āI fell in love with your father after fighting a serial killer together. Then he dragged me into his dorm room by my shirt.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Izuku, apart from being a full-time disaster, was also the strongest person Shoto had ever seen. Unwavering in the face of all the doubt, danger, and troubles with trying to do the right thing in such a rigid world. Juggling classes, homework, theory, and helping him with his own struggles. Izu had held onto him with rough and scarred hands and never let go once.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā But heād also never confided in him either.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto wasnāt an idiot.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā When the red/white-haired teen let his hands wander and felt the divets of scars and warped skin, he was reminded heavily that he wasnāt the only one with a past.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā His heart had been beating out of his chest wildly. Izuku was straddled on his hips, their lips on each otherās, until the green-haired boy tore himself away to rip off his shirt in one swift move. Shoto had to drool at how it made the muscles in his biceps and chest flex in all the right ways. His boyfriend looked like he had been carved from stone by an artist. Not even the scars took away from that. Fingers digging in, Shoto leaned up to let his tongue trace each mark on his skin. Long jagged lines from where his own power ripped him open, little starbursts that peppered his torso in seemingly random places. They looked familiar in a way that he couldnāt place, but Shoto didnāt want to question it.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Not when they were so new. And definitely not when Izu was looking down at him with dark and near hungry eyes. Head throwing itself back when Shoto bit down on a protruding collarbone. Hands found a knife wound on his side and various burns across his shoulder blades; each scar was a story. A history written on his partnerās skin.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He had a long time to learn each and every mark. Years to learn about the ghosts behind each mark.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā No need to rush.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā So Shoto simply grabbed Izuās waist and dragged him closer.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Not rushing Izuku when he was hesitant to talk was different than being blind. He saw when his lover took off to be alone after a particularly stressful class, but usually, it was after a vicious spar or words from Bakugo. Childhood friends. Before coming to UA, Shoto hadnāt had friends, so he wasnāt the best person to navigate their relationship. However, from what he learned from other classmates, Izu and Bakugoās relationship was strained andĀ complicated.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Thatās the word.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Their constant fights (instigated by Bakugo) had simmered down, less intense and more relaxed now than they had been. (Shoto would never be jealous of the man that fist fought his boyfriend on a near-daily basis. Childhood best friends or not.Ā HeĀ was the one Izu brought home to meet Inko.Ā HeĀ was the one that got spoiled by both Midoriyas and nearly had a breakdown at the affection that wasĀ so easy inĀ that house). But sometimes, the tension that was left behind after a fight was concerning, and whenever Shoto would even make a move to ask, Izu would be ready with a fragile smile.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āKacchan and I have a complicated historyā¦.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI forgave him a long time agoā¦ though he never asked me to.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto knew all about complicated.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He was beginning to hate the word.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Forcing someone to talk was never a good idea, so Shoto had just smiled back. (Izu loved when he smiled. It always made the green-haired boy grin so wide that his eyes were forced closed). Kissed his boyfriendās temple and soothed a warmed-up hand down his shoulder blades until Izu practically melted into his side. He let it go. Again.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Until he didnāt want to ignore it anymore.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The hallways were always rowdy after class, everyone hyped up from whatever lesson they had taken. Shoto frowned. In the sea of familiar heads, he didnāt even see a hint of green curls. He hadnāt even seen Izu pack up and leave. The red/white-haired man glanced at his boyfriendās desk, ignoring how Bakugo stomped past him. Izuās stuff was abandoned at his desk.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā That wasā¦ concerning.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Packing everything up into Izuās bag, he hefted the other bag onto his shoulder and started to search for his curly-haired hero. The nearby bathroom was empty, the gym had a few of their classmates, but none with freckles or green hair, so he ignored them, dorms were similarly empty, and there were no texts on his phone.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā It was pure luck when he did find his partner.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Circling back to the classroom, dead set on interrogating their teacher Shoto passed an open classroom that caught his eye. He heard the small gasps and soft cries but was going to ignore them (Izuku was more important, was he an asshole?). Until he saw just a sliver of bright red high tops.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Izu.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā There was his boyfriend, curled up. His hair was a mess, peeking out from behind his knees. Arms wrapped desperately around the back of his neck and quiet sobs as if he was trying to muffle the sound through sheer force of will. Unshakable. Unshakable. The fire-ice user wouldnāt lie; it startled him to see his ordinarily iron-willed lover soĀ fragile.Ā In pain. Izuku had always been the one to take a hit and grin through the hurt; bounce back stronger, better. It shook Shoto a little to see him like this.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā This wasnāt the time to have a crisis. Izu had held his hand through all his struggles. It was his turn to buckle up and be the rock the freckled boy needed. Shoto immediately entered the classroom and locked the door with an audible click. Bloodshot and glazed green eyes shot up, fear flashed behind them until recognition relaxed them. The next second he was sitting on the tile floor with Izuku wrapped up safely in his arms. One pro of his fatherās hellish training was how easy it was to haul his lean boyfriend onto his lap. Izu seemed content to burrow his face into his chest (heād never been the big spoon before. He liked the feeling, but this was not the time).
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āItās been years. Itās never going to happen again. Why does it still bother me? I have to be stronger than this. It still hurts.ā Izu sniffled, but he seemed a bit calmer than when Shoto had walked in. He kissed any loose curls that he could get his hands on, one hand running up and down his partnerās back.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āWhat happened?ā Izu fell silent. However, Shoto was patient; Izuku was always a rambler and mumbled to get his thoughts out and reordered. Sometimes it just took him a moment to piece together his thoughts, and Shoto was happy to wait for hours.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āKacchan and I got into another fight, and he said something that brought back some bad memoriesā¦.ā Izuās eyes were bloodshot and far away when he shifted to stare anywhere but at Shoto himself. However, his boyfriendās hands were still clutching at his shirt with a white-knuckled grip. āKacchan and I grew apart when we turned five. Because he got the perfect quirk, and I was diagnosed as quirkless.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā If the admission that his boyfriend was once quirkless shook him to the core, Shoto refused to show it. Didnāt do anything about it. He hadnāt gone to school, but heād heard the way his own father spoke about quirkless people.Ā Worthless, useless, deku.Ā Deku. Suddenly the affectionate nickname everyone else used tasted sour in the back of his throat. Had Izu had to face that ridicule? For something, he couldnāt control? Shoto held him tighter as Izuku trembled in his arms.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āKacchan bullied me viciously after that. My other classmates followed his lead; after all, he was going to be the perfect hero. Iā¦ could never bring myself to say anything. Even when it hurt and none of the adults did anything to help me. I still loved him.ā Izukuās voice cracked at that. A confession. The two-toned boy contemplated it. Had he seen this coming? Partially. Izuku had seemed to hold his best friend in such high esteem. Frustrated? Yes, Bakugo was (is? Had been?) a friend of sorts to him, yet he treated such a sunny boy so violently. Jealous? No.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He was the one Izuku comforted. The one that was held tight in those strong arms. Mesmerized by the green lightning that lit up his skin from the inside out. The one that got to kiss, lick,Ā suckĀ on all the vulnerable skin that Izuku exposed for him. Just him. In the privacy of their dorm rooms. Shoto was the one that he brought home to his mother and got spoiled by the motherly Midoriya. Izuku called him Shoto. The only one allowed to call him Shoto.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto, I love you.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The teen was not jealous of an explosively tempered classmate that his boyfriendĀ had once loved.Ā However, the red and white-haired teen was enraged. HowĀ dareĀ that ass ever hurt Izuku like that. His boyfriend gasped in his arms as the waterworks started again. (Inko told him Midoriyaās tended to be criers. Would their kids be criers too? Maybe it was too soon to think about that). āWhen I was 14, Kacchan told me that if I really wanted to be a hero, I should pray for a quirk in my next life and take a swan dive off the roof. Later that day, I was attacked by a villain, and the hero who saved me dropped me off on a roof and left me there after telling me I couldnāt be a hero without a quirk. Mom and my stubbornness are the only reason I donāt think I jumped 20 stories down that day.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Oh wow.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto hadnāt realized he could ever feel soĀ angry.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Icy adrenaline flooded his veins, shock perhaps. Followed by a rage so hot it burned worse than one of his training sessions with his father. It burned him alive, gnawing at his chest and festering to the point Shoto felt near nauseous and rabid with fury. It warred with the near paralyzing fear that also tingled at his fingertips. Heart racing with the overwhelming and complex emotions.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā One difference. If Izuku had lost even a piece of his inhuman determination and willpower, he wouldnāt be here. Izuku wouldnāt have been there for Shoto to fall in love with. His freckled green-eyed lover would have been gone, and Shoto wouldnāt have known this bliss, thisĀ warmth.Ā Izuku wouldnāt have met the friends who loved him unconditionally. Izuku wouldnāt have survived to get his quirk and prove anyone who dared to hurt him wrong. Wouldnāt have gotten to be the hero he was always meant to be.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Izuku would have died, loving some asshole who told him to go die.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āDonāt die. Donāt you dare die, Izu. Never die on me. Iāll never forgive you. I donāt care if you developed a quirk late or if you had never developed one at all. I still love you. So donāt you dare leave me.ā The heroās son desperately latched onto his boyfriend, holding him tightly with both his arms and legs so that Izuku couldnāt run away.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto had been wrong earlier. The two-toned teen had never seen anyone as strong. Izuku wasnāt weak. He could never be. Not when he had already survived so much.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā As the son of the #2 hero, that said a lot.
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Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Izuku had passed out pretty quickly after that. Fast asleep against his shoulder with puffy, red eyes and still clutching at his shirt like a lifeline. Shoto gently kissed the wild hairline of his chaotic boyfriend before carefully hoisting the both of them up. The hallways had long since gone quiet, and all of their classmates only chanced a silent wave when they noticed that Izuku was utterly dead to the world and tucked into his chest. Thus, getting up to the dorms was little to no issue.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Breaking into Izuās room was also a non-issue (the spare key was wedged above the doorframe for emergencies, aka Shoto sneaking in at 3 am and slinking back out before morning classes; heād only been caught by Shinsou twice, the insomniac). His boyfriendās room was the superhero merch paradise it always was, organized chaos with various notebooks scattered on the desk with other heroes and their classmatesā quirks and fighting styles being analyzed. Drawings littered the walls, and a clothes hamper was overflowing next to the closet. His bed was also a mess, but that just made it easier to drop the green-haired boyās body onto the mattress. The boy didnāt even twitch as Shoto carefully took his shoes and stripped him of the tie and blazer. He wasnāt confident enough to touch anything else while Izu was sleeping. The sheets, and his boyfriendās warm arms, were so inviting that Shoto was going to make himself at home and take a nap with his partner until his phone buzzed.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Bakugo: Icyhot letās spar iāll kick your ass.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto paused. Any other day this wouldnāt feel like such a big decision. But any other day, Shoto hadnāt known that his friend had belittled, bullied, and suicide baited his boyfriend and traumatized him during their childhood. He could say yes or no, and it wouldnāt feel like he was at a crossroads.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ignore him and comfort himself and his boyfriend.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Or beat his ass.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto glanced at his sleeping boyfriend. His brows were still furrowed in his sleep. Bags under his eyes, and the skin was irritated from Izuku rubbing his eyes so furiously to wipe the tears. If Izuku smacked his bully around in the classroom, Shoto probably wouldnāt get yelled at for āsparringā with his classmate. It would be quick, and Shoto would be slipping back into their bed before Izu even knew he was gone.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā A voice that sounded a bit like Izu chirped that asking forgiveness was easier than asking for permission. And with that, the vengeful voice that sounded eerily like his late brother Touya won, and he tucked Izuku in with one of his novelty plush blankets. This one had was one of the few non-hero merch he had in his room, with a large image of a moth man wanted poster.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āWell, I bought it for you. You love all those conspiracy theories and cryptid videos, and I wanted something that made you happy and comfortable here too. Whatās mine is yours and all.ā The shopping bag that Shoto had pulled it out of fluttered to the floor as the two-toned boy tackled his boyfriend. The entire night saw Shoto leaning against the headboard. Izuku was cushioned against his chest. The blanket covered both of them comfortably as the two binged Shotoās favorite web series from Izukuās laptop, and his boyfriend listened to his own rants and theories deep into the early morning.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā A smile tugged at Shotoās lips before his expression melted to neutrality as he answered the text with one hand. The other quietly sneaking him out of the room and locking the door behind him.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto: Be there in 5.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The dual quirked teen walked down the halls calmly, twisting around each corridor and letting his blood heat up with each step. Bakugo always wanted to face him full force, with both his quirks. It seems that he would finally get his chance. Shoto wasnāt going to give up even a slight advantage to grind thatĀ assholeĀ into the ground.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Bakugo was there in the gym as soon as he arrived, sturdy arms stretching out in a warm-up. Just in a tank top and some gym shorts. Something that heād never get the pleasure to see his boyfriend in because of all the scars on his arms and torso. Insecure because he had always faced cruelty from those who were supposed to support him. Shoto felt the temperature on his right side drop as his left side heated up, his face refusing to relax from a tense blankness. It was uncomfortable.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā It made him angrier.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āGood, youāre here. Letās get started. Iām going to win this one, Icyhot!ā Shoto highly doubted that. Their spars usually ended up with a draw or one of Shoto refusing to fight anymore and freezing Bakugoās feet to the floor to end it quickly. (One time, Shoto had frozen him up to his waist and ran away after getting a text from Izuku on his phone. Typically, it would speed up the fight, but a snap of his boyfriend in a steamy bathroom captioned āwanna join?ā was enough to raise Shoto from the dead. Running so fast that he teleported was no real challenge.)
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Still, Shoto got into position without a word, still wearing his school uniform. Bakugo gave him a crooked grin and put his fists up. The explosive teen was impulsive as ever and ran at him the second the fight started, right hand already aiming at his face. It was childās play for Shoto to jump back and continue dodging as the angry blonde threw punch after punch even as they missed. The red/white-haired boy frowned a bit. Usually, the blonde wasnāt so hard-headed, what was he-
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Oh. That was smart.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Bakugo made explosives with the nitroglycerin in his sweat, and continuously chasing him with hook after hook was working up quite a sweat. Shoto immediately decided that while that was a good strategy, it wouldnāt matter in the end.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto was going to end this quick after he let the blonde get a taste of hope.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The other student let out an enraged scream, though, to his credit, he did restrain the volume by gritting his teeth roughly. He swung again; this time, a mini-explosion erupted from his knuckles. Shoto just shielded himself with an ice-covered forearm, ignoring the bruises he could feel forming or how the ice melted and drenched his jacket. A jagged circle, like a firework, was left in the bits of ice that remained. The pattern was so familiar that it nagged viciously at his mind until it clicked, and it felt like something in the ice and fire teen snapped at the realization.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Little starbursts dotting all of his boyfriendās most vulnerable spots. The skin rough despite having abundant time to heal, scarring with a callus-like texture from the heat. Shoto snarled internally, his heart racing in his chest so hard it almost physically hurt. Of course, Bakugo picked that exact wrong moment to get into his space with his own furious scowl. Eyes burning and glowing from his quirk factor.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āAll youāre doing to dodging, why the hell arenāt you fighting back?! Donāt you dare hold back on me!ā Shoto growled right in the blondeās face.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āLike you didnāt when you told Izuku to ātake a swan dive off the roofā?ā That one sentence stunned the explosive teen. He looked flabbergasted in the face of Shotoās rage and spitting a past he shouldnāt have evenĀ known aboutĀ back into his face. It was just the pause Shoto needed to freeze Bakugoās costume and the sweat on his skin, leaving him defenseless when Shoto took a swing.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā His fist cracked against Bakugoās face with aĀ thwackĀ that satisfied something guttural and animalistic in the back of Shotoās mind. And the blonde went down like a sack of bricks. Knocked completely unconscious. Perhaps the brutal training his father put him through was worth it, even if only for this one moment where he was strong enough to deck his classmate in one move.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā A little bruised and a little sore, Shoto stared down condescendingly before abandoning the blonde teen on the ground. Kirishima always hung around and waited for Bakugo after their spars, he would take care of his ābro.ā Shoto was pleased with himself as far as how the āsparā went. The fury that had been boiling over finally was satiated, if only a little, but it was enough for now. Enough without feeling like he was crossing Izukuās boundaries and comfort zones about a past that he had only barely admitted to experiencing. Shoto knew what it felt like to be beaten down by people you still loved and wanted to protect.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shoto wouldnāt do anything with Izukuās permission.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā It was later in the evening now; the sun was setting on the horizon, and orange light painted every surface the windows could see. Izukuās bedroom was practically swimming in the warm hues, his boyfriend was still asleep, but he had rolled up to put his back to the window. A little blanket burrito curled up on top of his rumpled duvet. A fond smile tilted on the ice-fire teenās lips as he crossed the room silently, leaving his shoes at the door and hanging up his blazer and tie on a hook next to Izukuās. A flick of his wrist had the black-out curtains (Another one of Izukuās attempts to make Shoto comfortable in his space) pulled and plunging the room into darkness. It was a testament to Shotoās familiarity that he was back to Izukuās bed and worming his way into the sheets without stumbling once.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā A hand reached out, and a familiar body flipped around to grab at him and pull him into a tight cuddle. Shoto had to force himself not to startle; he hadnāt realized Izuku was awake. But he was also quite happy with the callused hands threading into his hair and pulling him to use a firm chest as a pillow. āWhere you been?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Izuās voice was slurred with sleep, obviously half-asleep even talking with him. Shoto nuzzled into his boyfriendās pecs quite happily. The smell of cinnamon and the heavy scent of the air before a lightning storm clung to his skin and comforted all the tension in his body. Shoto wrapped his arms around the green-haired heroās waist.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āHad to take care of a couple things before we went to bed. Didnāt want to wake you up dragging you everywhere. Did I take too long?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āNo, just curious.ā Lips kissed his eyelid when they slipped closed. He could barely feel it through the scar tissue, but it still sent a burst of affection in his chest like a firework. Shoto blindly kissed his boyfriendās chest as a muscled arm reached over him to pull up another blanket to cover his exposed body. āNight, love.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āGood night, Izu.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Love was complicated.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā But Izuku made it so simple.
Hey Y'all! I know I don't post much anymore, but I did want to let you guys know I started a youtube! Its all about trophy hunting and this first game up to bat is Detroit become human!
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Spikes and darkness surrounded her, closing in ever so surely. Her breath left her in gasps and whimpers. She never asked for this. Never wanted this. Luther, her ābigā brother holding her so tight that she couldnāt breathe. Stopping her other siblings from freeing her. He trapped in a room so quiet the silence was ringing like a loud fire alarm in her ears. Her heart pounding quick and fast under her skin as her stomach rolled.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā She hadnāt meant to, but she did. Hurting Alison was her biggest regret, everything had just happened so fast. Their arguing had echoed in her ears. Louder than the raging wind, and she had just whipped her bow to tell Alison to leave and the energy had whipped with it without her knowledge. Slitting Alisonās throat.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Leonard. She had meant to do. It was the only time she had felt even an iota of control, a feeling she rarely felt even before her powers manifested. He had made her feel special, feel loved. And then it had been a lie, manipulating her and using her like dad had for all those years. So, she did want she never could to Reginald. She murdered Leonard with the very powers heād shown her and couldnāt bring herself to regret it.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The door in front of her had no give as her hands pressed down on it, tears blurring her vision so that her fingers and hands turned into blurry tan starfishes on a cold metal surface. She didnāt want to be here forever. She didnāt want to die here. Not here. Not here notherenotherenothere.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā It didnāt have to be here.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Her heart beat louder, until it was the only sound she could hear. Her breathing and shuffling fading away as her eyes closed and something like a rubber band in her chest snapping and releasing. And the door, actually the whole wall fell down. Never to trap and imprison her again. It made relief bubble in her chest like the worldās most addictive drug.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Now wasnāt a time to stop however.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Her legs moved faster than her brain, sprinting down the hall. Hands jabbing the button on the elevator, if she moved quick enough she could be gone before they would even know she had broken out. Wriggling out as soon as the door was open, Vanya ducked into the nearest room. Barely missing the thundering footsteps of Luther rushing past and Pogoās voice in her ears. She waited, holding her breath before leaving the room and going quickly down the hall. She was small and light, her feet gracing the ground without a sound as she ducked into the side rooms. Head whipping to look around corners until she slammed face first into another person.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āVanya dear? Whatās the rush? Dinnerās going to be a little while.ā Mom, with her same soft smile and perfectly styled hair. It was soothing to see her, as much as it could be while Vanya was trying to escape her family home.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI have to go Mom, I have a concert as first chair tonight. Iām sorry.ā She only hummed, folding some blanket onto one of the seats in the room.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI always did love listening to you play, youāll do great Vanya.ā And she went back to her task, something in Vanyaās chest went funny. Hard to breath, but the words still reached out.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āMom?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYes?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI love you, you know that, donāt you?ā Mom smiled.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āOf course I do.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā And like a ghost, Vanya smiled and brushed past her mother. Out the door before anyone else could see her.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā She had a performance.
---
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Vanya didnāt really come back to awareness quickly; her head was lost in the music enveloping her. Fingers gliding without any really thought as she stood at the head of the concert. She only came back as she started her song. Bullets were flying and she thought that she could see her siblings fighting in the rows. Even Ben. Fighting men with masks and guns. Her body felt weird and floaty, head full of cotton, but she dismissed the feeling. Her eyes slipped closed again.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā She was exhausted and hallucinating, but sheād get to sleep soon.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Just after her last dream.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āVanya had to buy a new bow before the concert after all, she couldnāt stand to look at the blood-stained strings any longer, but the violin had been perfectly clean still. She was tuning behind the stage when the conductor tapped her gently on the shoulder.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYou still havenāt named your piece, itās going to be the finale.ā Vanya blinked. Her piece, sheād forgotten that she had written the final composition, they were playing it as a world premier to celebrate her being the new first chair. But, she did have a name.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āItās called The Last Dream.ā The conductor gave her a simple nod before running off to tidy up another loose end as Vanya fiddled with her suit and her instrument. It was a piece about the hardships, the pain, and trying so hard. Going up and up until there was nowhere else to go. Nothing else left to be done but let the note ring out and fade away into a memory.
The Last Dream.
Vanyaās Dream.
Soon chatter like a wave, filled the back stage before going silent like a tide rushing back out to the ocean and everyone filed out. The show was about to start.ā
That was the last moment she hadnāt felt like this. Like there was a swirling galaxy in her body that was slowly spinning her up. She couldnāt hear the orchestra behind her, but something was whipping past her hair. Something that almost felt like a violin bow jabbed her chest and her stomach, distracting and annoying. It wasnāt enough to keep her from playing. Climbing higher and higher and higher.
She had always tried so hard. Throwing herself into music, being the perfect daughter, quiet and obedient. Tried to be a good sister, caring and kind when they even spared her a glance and stayed out of their way when they just couldnāt be bothered with her. Ordinary little Vanya Hargreeves.
The notes climbed higher.
She thought leaving would free her, and it didnāt, all she did was continue to struggle alone, this time without people there to pretend like she had a family that was with her. Still she played her violin and fought her way into the Icarus Orchestra. She thought the book would be therapeutic. And it was, it freed all the bitterness and pain she had swallowed like a horse pill every day since she was a child. Yet, all it did was make her siblings hate her more.
But she didnāt need to worry about that anymore. It didnāt matter anymore. Something in her chest expanded, freeing her lungs and letting her take a deep breath as her notes started to sing to their highest limits. They could hate her. Dad could hate her from wherever he was. But she was going to rise above them. Fly and soar. It was her last aspiration. The only thing she had left to do.
Her eyes fluttered, something went through her hair. As if trying to grab it. She ignored the feeling her wrists flexing as she pulled her bow and slowly flourished. The last and softest note playing quietly but powerfully. Freedom was a God given right, but sometimes, you had to find your freedom.
She had finally found it.
Her arms fell to her sides, her eyes still closed. She was still floating, but her chest was crushing. The note was gone, but it still screamed in her ears. Spiraling up and spinning her around dizzily until the sound finally died and made way for the other sounds in the theatre.
She blinked. Unsure of when sheād ended up on the floor.
A man with a suit was standing over her with a gun, Luther was in front of him. Staring at her with intent eyes as she blinked up at him. She was so tired. Her chest hurt so terribly, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and things were so bright. He looked angry. Or concerned. Oh well.
Okay, so I thought about this for a bit. Of he blocked his memory of the whole ordeal, it obviously was traumatic for him, as alien invasions tend to be. But I donāt know if it was the invasion itself, or what happened DURING the invasion that really scarred him. He had to have accepted the fact that the chitauri were a thing, because thatās what literally everyone and his mother and her pet dog were talking about for WEEKS afterword. But what actually happened that made him BLOCK his memory? I think I figured it out.
You guys, Stephen had siblings.
What if he lost Donna and Victor during the invasion?
Reblog if itās okay for your followers to leave you an ask telling you what the one thing is they remember you for as a writer. Ā Is it a scene or a detail or a specific line? Is it something like style or characterization? Ā Is it that one weird kink they never thought theyād be into, but oh my god wow self-discovery time?
I hear a lot of people bitching that they canāt leave kudos multiple times per story, or canāt leave kudos on every chapter, or whatever.
Well, take a page out of this marvelous book, because I swear Iāve never been so happy to receive kudos as waking up to multipleĀ people having done this on multiple chapters on a story I just posted.
Weāre happy to get a smiley face, honestly. Leaving another kudos like this is great. Anything that tells us we arenāt just screaming into the void
It doesnāt have to be a multi paragraph dissertation (though those are amazing when they happen) to put a smile on an authorās face and encourage them to write more!
The same goes to artists seriously, itās not only for writers, rather than just seeing their works being re-posted, receiving a feedbacks under their post as simple as āthis is goodā already can give a motivation to work harder.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā His footsteps were short as his mind wandered. Slowly and contemplative as his eyes wandered the walls of the castle he called home. His sneakers were so worn that he could feel the cool of the tiles beneath his feet. His fingers twitched at his sides as he dug his fingers into his jacket. Letting his thoughts ramble as he bit his lip.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He never wanted anyone to find out like that. It was always better if he got to tell them calmly with a comfortable environment. Not jumped with the information in a stressful battlefield mission. His fingernails scratched the fabric and his teeth sunk deeper into his lip.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Allura said to give it a little time, but none of the other paladins, nor Shiro, were anywhere to be seen. Lance relaxed his shoulder and let out a breath, deep and even. Pointedly ignoring the tang of blood in his mouth or the numb sting digging into his mouth. Lance looked up at one of the castles many windows, stars painting the galaxies they shot past in their travels. It made Lance feel so small. But, it was so beautiful.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Feeling vulnerable and small could be a beautiful thing too.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Lanceās eyes couldnāt tear themselves away. āGod, sometimes I forget how lucky I feel, canāt deny that view though.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIt is a beautiful night, isnāt it?ā Lanceās shoulders stiffened, but he relaxed them just enough for Shiro to step up from behind him and put a hand on his back. Lance nodded instead, slowly leaning back against the touch. Letting his muscles melt against the strong warmth buoying him up.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He was glad Shiro wasnāt disgusted enough to not touch him. But he wasnāt going to beat around the bush either. āIām sorry you had to find out like that, you shouldnāt have been surprised like that, I should have been the one to tell you, and Iām sorry for that.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIām sorry too, I just. I watched, people disappear in my neighborhood, vanish like ghosts. While their murderers strutted like peacocks, everyone just. They chose to forget. They didnāt mention them ever again. There was no remorse, no acknowledgement, they just were gone. And itās haunted me. For a long time, and I took that out on you, all that mistrust and prejudice. Iām sorry.ā Lance bit his lip again, a little harder. This time, he pulled away from Shiro. Looking up at him and straight into those dark eyes before holding out a hand.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āLet me show you something.ā Lanceās heart lurched as Shiro grabbed his hand immediately. The trust made a fuzzy and painful feeling inflate in his chest. But he still pulled Shiro to the black paladinās room. Letting the door close behind him before his fingers grabbed at his jacket, pulling it to the floor and working on his shirt. Ignoring Shiroās suspicious and shocked silence while remaining ever away of his eyes roaming the scars and muscle across his back. Until he turned around and Shiroās eyes honed in on the tattoo. āForgive me Father for I have Sinnedā with tallies lining his ribcage like little balls and chains. Slowing adding up to drag him down to the hell that he belonged in. Lance glanced up at Shiro before looking down and idly tracing his tattoos.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI never forget them. I never do. I never will. And Iāll add to them justly once I get my hands on a tattoo shop. Each of these. Is a person I have killed. I murdered these people Shiro. I will not lie to you. And I also respect your decision if this changes things.ā Lances eyes got hot and his lungs squeezed painfully, leaving him breathless. āEven if you canāt forgive me, if itāll make things better, I can stay away from you. Keep my distance when it doesnāt matter.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Shiro, looked heartbroken, but still took a step forward. Taking in all of Lanceās pain and his shame. Deft fingers tracing the tattoos on the ribs that Shiro could almost count. His voice was whisper soft, leaving his throat. āWhy did you never tell us before? Itās been so long.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI was afraid. I will admit it. I didnāt want to hurt any of you, or lose you. I canāt leave this life. I wonāt. Iām not a prisoner. I am a part of my family. Willing. I do this, because I was raised like this, and I love my family. What I do has consequences. Ones that I live with. But, I thought. I could shield you from it.ā Shiro paused. His fingers stopping their small exploration of smooth and warm tan skin.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIs the Lance I knew even who you are?ā Lance smiled, his hand reaching up to cup Shiroās jaw boldly.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIād never lie to you. Or any of them. I was always me, youāre just finding more about me. I love you all. Iāll never lie to you guys. I will never lie to anyone I love. I made that vow with my family, and it is a vow I will die too. Family is a righteous cause, and you guys. Youāre just that. Family. Forever.ā Lance smiled at Shiro, before letting his hand drop and stepping back. Allowing Shiro some space and time as he moved towards the door. Before Shiro grabbed his arm, halting his progress and spinning him into a bone crushing hug. Lanceās face pressed into Shiroās shoulder. Solid and real.
āIām so sorry for hurting you or ever making you doubt yourself.ā Shiroās voice choked, paused, before he continued. āI-I love you. We love you I mean.ā Lance smiled softly, his ear was pressed against Shiro as he melted against one of the men who held his heart so close.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI know. Keith may have alluded to it.ā Lance paused, before looking up at Shiro, those blue eyes framed with a solemn smile and eyes so vulnerable and adoring that it made Shiroās heart ache. It was not a look Shiro had ever seen on Lance, the type of smile that made you want to cry. It showed on his face, Lance could see it clearly, Shiro and he both knew what wasnāt going to happen. As Shiro held him in those warm strong arms, Lance curled his fingers into his shirt. It wasnāt a goodbye, but it felt like one. Because Lance knew that he loved them, but he also knew what he could never do.
Be with them.
āI loved you too.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā And like a ghost, he walked away from the black paladin. Out of the room into the hall.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Someone in human skin could love, but it was better if they didnāt.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Lance loved them anyway.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Lance was a McClain. He was the son of his father. The youngest of his mother. The brother to his sisters. The heir to his people. The nightmare to his enemies and obstacles. The blue paladin of Voltron. The goof ball of his family. The brother to Pidge. The best friend to Hunk. The knight to Allura. The son to Coran. The supporter of Keith and Shiro. The monster in his skin. But above all else. He was the dark prince. A prince served his family with his life and love. He would live to serve.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Live for love.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā But, never to love.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā And with the blood on his hands, the dark claws of the monster digging into him with every breath. It was okay. To protect them, without loving them fully. It was okay.
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