todoroki shoto x reader | taking care of drunk shoto
cw intoxication by alcohol, fluff, angst if you squint, shoto being lovesick and clingy and a little sad :(
[sho]: Hi love. Are you awake?
received 11:17pm
[sho]: i may have drunk a little. Kaaminri kept re fillong my cup
received 11:20pm
[sho]: I miss you.
received 11:40pm
[sho]: Can I come overr?
received 12:11am
“i think you may have drunk more than just a little,” you laugh, with shoto’s left arm slung over your shoulder. your right arm snakes behind his back, wrapping around his waist. shoto only hums as he slumps his head on top of yours, his weight heavy against your struggling body.
“okay. we’re almost there,” you say more to yourself than him. “just a little further.”
your staggering bodies stumble over to the living room, his sock-clad feet doing nothing but making the journey ten times harder. they slip every so often against the hardwood floors, and you have to haul him left and right just to make sure he doesn’t crack his head open from falling.
“alright, alright. there we go,” you huff out, gently lowering his loose body onto the couch. shoto hums again, nonsensically, as he sinks into the plush fabric.
but not before pulling you down with him.
you yelp in surprise as shoto lets out a soft oof when your body crashes onto his. you wince at the impact, one leg haphazardly over his, the other still awkwardly rooted to the floor. despite your position, he settles into his spot, using two strong arms to haul the rest of you up and to his chest.
he hardly seems bothered by the collision, letting his head fall back onto the cushion. but you still can’t help but ask worriedly, “are you okay? did that hurt—?”
“you’re pretty.”
a beat passes as you bite back a smile, turning your head up slowly. shoto’s already looking down at you, with flushed cheeks and messy bangs that flutter over his glassy eyes.
giggling, you shift on top of him, getting comfortable. your fingers come up to swipe his hair out of the way, his pale forehead now proudly displaying. a handsome sight.
he doesn’t blink at your movements, just simply stares at you in quiet awe.
you whisper, “baby, i think you’re drunk.”
“and i think you’re really pretty.”
his words come out blunt, slightly slurred. and your smile finally breaks across your face. you watch his eyebrows raise minutely, still in awe.
“do you get that feeling as well?” he asks, voice deep.
you tilt your head. “what feeling?”
shoto blinks. then he sighs, almost in frustration. “when you smile, my heart starts beating very fast. it concerns me sometimes. i think i should see a doctor.” he says this straightforwardly, very shoto. and is also completely oblivious to how endearing he sounds.
you perch your chin on his chest, looking at him with amused eyes.
“you’re being so cute right now, sho.”
“am i?”
nodding, your cheeks start aching from how hard you’ve been smiling. shoto tightens his arms around you, and you sink into his warm hold.
after a moment, you affirm him. “i get that feeling too.”
“you do?”
“mhm.”
shoto cocks his head to the side, serious as ever. “then i should give both our doctors a call tomorrow, no?”
this makes you laugh. teasing him, “i think it just means we love each other, no?”
shoto’s eyes then widen, odd astonishment written clearly on his face. it baffles you.
“you love me?” he asks quietly—in wonder.
your heart just about bursts. partly due to fondness, partly due to disbelief. “well, yes. i am your fiance,” you say affectionately, wiggling your hand up to flash the shiny ring on your left ring finger.
shoto takes your hand, brings it close to his face. he examines the ring, turning your fingers this way and that. after careful scrutiny, he pulls back, looking at you with fascination while exhaling slowly.
“i’m a lucky man,” he breathes out. so innocent in his reverence.
warmth swells in your chest. and another round of giggles escapes your lips, just as the smell of mint and sake hits your nose.
water, you abruptly think. should probably get him some water. that headache’s going to be mean tomorrow morning.
without warning, you squirm out of his arms and sit up. he follows, though clumsily.
“where are you going?” shoto asks, and you’re taken aback by the sudden alertness in his tone. you try to ease him onto the couch again, but he relents—stubborn.
“getting you some water,” you softly say, trying to be reassuring—trying to smooth out the sudden furrow in his eyebrows with your thumb. “i’ll be right back—”
“don’t leave me.”
you pause, eyes widening.
shouto’s eyes are glistening now, more than just an intoxicated sheen. and your heart drops at the subtle panic in his voice, your other hand coming up to cradle his cheek.
“no… no, i’m not leaving you. i just think you need some water right now—”
“can i come with you?” he asks lowly—shyly.
you shake your head, a little perplexed. “no my love, stay here on the couch. i’ll be quick—”
“please, don’t leave me,” he quickly says again, slurring.
your face twists, mouth soundlessly opening and closing as your mind tries to grapple with the sudden shift in mood.
he’s never usually like this. then again, he’s never usually drunk. but there’s an underlying tone in his voice, a desperation that seeps through—a little too raw. a little too real.
shoto chases after his own words before you can fully process them. “i love you. i know i have trouble expressing it. and i don’t say it enough, but i do. i really do…”
his hands grasp onto yours. an iron-grip hold. words tumble out of his mouth, his usual calmness far from seen, his usual quietness far from heard. you would've found it intriguing, if not for the utter dejection and anxiety on his face.
“you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says with furrowed eyebrows. “you see me for who i am. i love you. and i can’t imagine—”
alarm bells start going off in your head.
“hey…” you try to shush him. but his clutch tightens impossibly so, gleaming eyes never leaving yours.
“you showed me what love could be. what it should be. and i don’t want to ever lose you. i don’t want to mess this up—”
“shoto—”
he quickly cuts you off, breathing heavily. “perhaps i can change your mind? what can i do?”
the hopeless look in his eyes absolutely crushes you.
with a heavy heart, you stroke his hair, smoothing down the red and white tufts. it’s your first time seeing him like this, and it aches you to think that he would ever think you’d leave. even if this conversation was unfolding while he was drunk.
“sho, you don’t have to do anything—”
“but—”
“i’m not leaving,” you say firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. “i won’t ever leave. no matter what, okay?”
shoto blinks. then blinks again. his voice is quiet—tentative when he asks, “you mean it?”
“yes,” you say delicately, steeling your resolve when he searches your face.
moments pass. excruciatingly long moments. until finally, his shoulders relax, if just barely. you find yours untensing as well, as he tugs you onto his lap. you give in, because you can never find it in yourself not to when it comes to him.
landing sideways with a thump, his arms immediately encircle your waist, head nestling into the crook of your neck. you rub his back, trying to slow his breathing, feeling his erratic heartbeat through your palm.
“you’re not leaving?” he mutters into your skin.
“never.”
shoto sighs. thankfully, in what seems to be in relief. “you mean it? truthfully?”
you whisper, “yes.”
seconds tick by. your single, but assuring, words linger in the air.
then, softly, you hear:
“...you love me?”
you look up, blinking back tears, arms tightening around his head as you cradle him close. the quiver in your lip just won’t stop, and you hope to the stars that your voice won’t come out shaky.
“yes.”
after swallowing the ball in your throat, you gently lift his head, meeting his vulnerable gray and turquoise eyes.
“forever and always.”
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆｡˚ ⋆
after some time, shoto eventually calms down, the both of you not moving from your spot on the couch. a long debate ensues, the end result with him trailing behind you at 2am, gripping tightly onto one of your hands. your other hand solitarily moves around the kitchen: grabbing a cup, filling it with water, then bringing it up to his lips.
shoto sips, slowly. looking at you the whole time. doesn’t even notice that he finishes the entire cup until you pry it away. you convince him to drink another, and he nods wordlessly, like a puppy.
eventually, your feet pad quietly across the kitchen, and into your bedroom. eventually, he falls asleep in your arms, his intoxicated haze finally taking over. you stroke his hair tenderly, embrace him earnestly—hoping that even in his drunken sleep, he’ll be able to feel it:
if you don't mind me asking...which other characters could you see having a marriage kink?
kirishima!!!
loves being married. the type of guy who says “hold on, my wife just texted me” and then spends the next five minutes giggling into his phone.
likes to hold your hand everywhere you go, rubbing his thumb over the ring on your finger. he’s subtle about his affection in public. sends a lot of “when I get you home” looks when you’re attending events but he’s not into PDA. the only person to see you undone is him.
which is why, as soon as you’re home, he pulls you into his chest and kisses you like he’s going off for war.“missed my wife all night long.”
shouto!!
even before you’re officially together, it’s very very obvious that shouto has a marriage kink. he thinks he’s kept it under wraps, but he can yearn. when you spend the night for the first time he has to physically restrain himself from locking you in his house. all because you said you could used to be taken care of like this.
he doesn’t really know what a good marriage is. it feels incompatible with how intensely he feels for you, this rattling ball of need in his chest that grows every day. he nearly let it out the night before, those insane words pushing on his tongue as you trembled in his arms.
Ft. I. Midoriya, K. Bakugou, S. Todoroki, E. Kirishima, and D. Kaminari
AN: Was anyone else obsessed with boyfriend does my makeup videos on youtube as a kid? Bcz I was!
CW: Reader wears makeup (obvs), suggestive themes (Izuku & Denki), I tried not to mention any specific skin tone, but pink blush and lipgloss are mentioned...uh, Kirishima has two moms?
Izuku is surprised by the request, but takes it seriously, genuinely wanting to do a good job, even if it was just for fun.
He tries his hardest to replicate your everyday routine, Mr "I keep notes on people" knows it by heart obviously, he just doesn't quite have the skills to do it justice.
Mumbles to himself as if it's an analytical task, eyes squinting as he takes in your face and works out how best to apply each product. At one point he reaches out to grab your neck to still you, immediately blushing red and apologizing profusely as you start laughing at him.
He just put you in a chokehold to apply foundation.
"OMYGODIMSOSORRY—"
You laugh, sending him a wink. "Wow ‘zuku, didn't think we were headed that direction…"
His cheeks glow maybe the reddest you've ever seen, freckles practically blended into the skin around them. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO I SWEAR!"
In the end the base is blended pretty well, but the eye makeup leaves a lot to be desired, and your brows are…quite harsh to say the least, almost resembling that time you let Eri do your makeup..
He comes out of it very impressed by the steady hand you must have to replicate this every day!
"I think I can safely cross 'makeup artist' off of my list of possible back-up career paths..."
—---—
Katsuki, much like Izuku, decides to go for your everyday look that his stalker ass is incredibly familiar with. He takes it seriously, as he does pretty much everything, telling you to “sit still,” and “quit your damn fidgeting,” while he moves between steps.
However, unlike Izuku, Bakugou absolutely slays—you come out looking almost better than you do when you do it yourself.
He grew up with fashion designers as parents; he watched a lot of models get their makeup done backstage while in between babysitters (not many could handle his bratty child self) and sometimes watched his own mom do hers before going out. Plus, you're telling me Best Jeanist, BJ himself doesn't glam up a lil? Yeah right…that's basically his drag mother.
In the end he's smug as hell as you look yourself over, practically gobsmacked by his skill. Everything looks perfectly blended, the eyeliner is sharp, brows are shaped and fluffed up, and he got pretty much every detail of your daily look correct, down to your favorite lip combo. He even managed to apply fake lashes without them looking like they're melting off…
"What the hell Katsuki?! This was supposed to be funny!"
—---—
Shoto doesn't really understand makeup. He had Yaoyorozu try to cover his scar once out of curiosity, and on rare occasions where Endeavor was busy and they were left to their own devices, a middle-school Fuyumi would sometimes use him as a makeup guinea pig, but it always felt heavy and itchy on his skin. He thinks the fact that girls wear that stuff everyday is impressive, and maybe a little masochistic…
He usually doesn't pay much attention when you get ready to go out, mostly just waiting patiently while you do your thing, reading manga on his phone. He's not dumb, he knows girls don't naturally have glittery eyelids and red lips, but he's also not the best at spotting natural looks…
"Do you use this one?" He asks a million times, reading the label on each product intensely. He is taking it seriously, he just doesn't really know what he's doing. Uses the wrong products in a few spots, needing your guidance to pick the right brushes for different areas. Is too scared to hurt you with mascara, so he makes you put that on your own lashes.
"This is really hard…"
In the end, your base is…okay; blush is in the right spot…but your contour is splotchy. Your mascara is nice (thanks to yourself)...but your eyeliner is thick and uneven, he accidentally used an eyeshadow that was a little too dark, and he didn't even touch your brows, in fact, he was actually surprised when you said you put makeup on them.
You giggle as you look over yourself in the mirror, pecking his cheek as he blushes in embarrassment behind you, reassuring him with a pat on the head. "You did a good job for your first time, Sho!"
"Did I? I don't know if I believe that…"
Pays a little more attention to you whenever you do your makeup from now on. He wants to try again sometime and do better!
—---—
Eijiro agrees easily, saying trying new things is manly. Neither of his moms are super into makeup, so this is pretty new territory for him.
He does a shockingly good job on the eyeliner (middle-school emo phase coming in clutch!), although it's more intense than you tend to go for. He's also absolutely shocked at the torture contraption that is a lash curler, staring at it when you hand it to him.
“I thought Mina was joking when she told me about these…”
The rest is…well…
It's clear his skills haven't improved much since his middle school guyliner days—in fact, you could probably pass as a middle-schooler who just got her first makeup kit for Christmas; It's wearable, it's not like you'd look outrageous in public…but your foundation isn't really matching your neck; heavy bronzer makes your face a bit and he doesn't really know better to blend it down. You should've expected he'd go for the bronzer—two or his best friends are gyaru, so it makes sense he'd be familiar with a sun-kissed (more like smacked, in this case) look. There's some specks of mascara smudged onto your eyelids, and your brows are…well, they make themselves known, but hey, your emo eyeliner and pink lipgloss are nearly perfect.
It's an odd mix of aesthetics.
Still, your boyfriend is so proud of himself that you can't help but be happy with the results too, shaking your head with a grin as you examine the final look, Kirishima practically beaming in the background as he sits on your bed.
"Did I do okay?"
"You did great hun."
—---—
Denki never grew out of his guyliner phase. He's pretty excited when you ask him, immediately digging into your stash. As previously mentioned, he's a gyaruo, and he's always been a little interested in makeup, though he doesn't wear much himself besides a little eyeliner and sometimes concealer if he stays up a little too late playing League…
He doesn't take it too seriously, laughing whenever he messes up and using a makeup wipe to correct it. Definitely pokes your eye with the mascara wand by accident…but is totally apologetic about it, even offering to get down on his knees to make up for it…
He doesn't try to replicate your everyday look, instead having fun playing with all the products and colors; complains if you don't have any wild lipsticks. Jokes about making you look like a clown.
"Don't you have like…a nice blue?"
"You want me to wear blue lipstick??"
It's not too bad in the end! He's never done graphic eyeliner before, so it's a bit wonky, and the colours are brighter than you'd typically go for, the blush is hot pink and quite.. abundant. If you question it, he shrugs, leaning back in his chair cockily.
"Sabrina Carpenter wears a lot of blush, y'know."
"She doesn't wear green and purple eyeshadow!"
The eyeshadow in question is clearly blended by a beginner: muddy where the colors meet. He left your eyebrows plain and fluffy after a failed attempt to try different products on them to make them look bleached. It's a bit of an editorial look, to put it nicely…you can tell what he was going for, with some touch ups it would be pretty cool.
He thinks you look cool as hell, absolutely rebukes anything else.
established relationship!shoto gets SO emotional every time you get him a gift, to the point of crying.
he always insists on buying you things and giving you the most thoughtful gifts, but the first time you got him a gift, he was in such disbelief that his breathing was shaky as he carefully peeled open the wrapper of the star-shaped keychain you got him. a small keepsake of you that he can bring anywhere with him, especially when he’s away on a mission, you’d said.
the second time, he still has the same reaction, if not even more. this time you got him flowers and dessert from his favourite patisserie as appreciation gifts. he really was the best boyfriend, after all. he ate the pastry through tears, only after hugging you so tightly and giving you the sweetest kiss.
on the third time, surely, you thought, that maybe he’d have gotten a little used to receiving gifts from you. but no, his reaction was more or less the same. he even insisted that you shouldn’t feel obligated to give him gifts. you comfort him, wiping away his tears, saying that you want to give him gifts and spoil him as much as he’s spoiling you.
it happens again, and again, and again. he can’t help it, just loves you that much. everything you give him touches his heart so deeply and moves him. partly because of the gentleness and tenderness and thoughtfulness of the gifts—so wildly different from his childhood. there’s an overwhelming happiness in him that he gets to enjoy a love so warm and fond with you.
thinking about boyfriend! shoto todoroki when it's that time of the month for you.
↳ 0.9k
↳ cw: mention of period/pms symptoms, established relationship, just fluff
🍑 masterlist | 🍒 request based on this ask
It should have been obvious from the moment you felt those back twinges. The dull ache deep within your muscles that wasn't from exercising or doing your job, but something else stirring beneath the surface.
It should have been obvious from the moment you stared at your face to see yet another spot join the ones already present on your skin, making your confidence dip slightly.
It should have been obvious from the moment you began to notice a change in your appetite, something that was out of the ordinary for you.
And it should have been obvious with how snappy and moody you'd been the past few days, even snapping at your boyfriend, who was an innocent party. A boyfriend you dragged yourself to say sorry to before bursting into tears.
It should have been obvious, but it wasn't until the moment you got the cramps. The pain was enough to make you want to vomit as you groaned, thigh muscles dully aching as you hugged yourself.
Of all the times to start your period, it was the time when you weren't prepared. You blamed being busy for the festive season, but still, for it to catch you off guard was horrific.
Rushing home, you quickly unlocked the door and slammed it shut with your foot as you ran towards your bedroom. Dumping the bags in your hand in the corner, you rushed towards your dresser to grab your period comfort pjs before you rushed into the bathroom.
Taking a moment to clean yourself up with a quick shower, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, huffing slightly. "Now it all makes fucking sense".
Just as the words left your lips, a wave of pain crashed over you again as you hissed, breathing softly, trying to help the pain pass. As it slowly ebbed, you grabbed your phone and sent a quick message to your boyfriend before dragging your heavy legs over to your bed, taking refuge under the covers as you curled up.
On the other side of the city, a phone chimed as the owner picked it up. Their eyes scanned the message sent before they stopped what they were doing, taking the rest of the day off to be where they were needed.
The sound of the door clicking open then shut echoed slightly through the apartment as dual-coloured eyes scanned the surroundings. The air was still, and oddly calm. Todoroki knew you had to be here; your shoes at the door told him so.
Quickly checking each room, he saw nothing until he reached the bedroom. The room he shared with you each night and morning, you had to be in there.
Pushing the door open, he glanced at the lump in the middle of the bed and smiled softly to himself. "Bingo".
Stepping forward, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheets down, the mattress sinking under his weight. There he saw you curled in a ball, as a soft smile tugged at his lips, the kind of smile only you got to see.
Your body sensing the eyes on you, you slowly began to stir, vision focusing slowly until you came face-to-face with Shoto. Letting out a small whimper, you pulled yourself up slightly as you reached out a hand.
The second he grabbed your hand with his left; you yanked him down and pressed his hand against your lower stomach. The heat radiating off it made you sigh in relief as you felt the pain ease, the cramps slowly disappear as you melted into his touch. "Hello to you too, my love".
Giving a sheepish grin, you pressed your hand over his and looked at him. "Sorry, Sho, it's bad, and you were the only thing that would help. Also, hi".
A low chuckle sounded from him as you looked away, embarrassed at your desperation for relief. Bringing his free hand up, he cupped your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. Closing your eyes, you relaxed more, kissing him back softly.
After a few seconds, you broke apart, letting out a sigh. "So I take it you're not in pain anymore then?".
Shaking your head, you hummed softly as you rubbed your thumb across the back of his hand. "Not any more, thanks to the most amazing hot water bottle, I mean, boyfriend ever. Although...".
Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Shoto smiled wider and hushed you with another kiss. "I know for a fact what you're about to say, you're carving something, but you don't know what".
Nodding your head, you watched as he stood, hand pulling away from your body with a whine of desperation. He quickly grabbed the covers and pulled them back over you, tucking you in slightly. "I'll be back before you know it, with all of your favourites. We can even have a lazy day and watch whatever you want".
Quirking a brow, you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a deep chuckle. "Yes, it's fine. I've taken a few days off to spend them helping you get over the worst of it".
The feeling in your chest swelled as you looked at Shoto, a smile tugging at your lips. "If I could leap onto you and hug you tight, I would, but I'll squeeze you extra hard when we cuddle. Deal?".
The mattress dipped under his weight once more, as a small kiss was pressed beside your ear. "It's a deal, sweetheart".
⋆ was already thinking of writing this and then @kitkat13001 posted kirishima’s love language is words of affirmation and i wholeheartedly agree so i ran with it as inspo.
⋆ master list
━ ˗ˏˋ ꒱ shouto | quality time |
In the beginning, Shouto sticks to you like glue. No matter the task, he’s right there. You think — “well it’s a new relationship, the novelty will wear off.”
It doesn’t.
Shouto finds joy in the simple life. Whenever you tell him you’re going to run errands, he grabs his keys. He drives you from place to place, hand on your thigh, and exists happy and quiet as you go to the farmers market, exchange an item of clothing that’s ill fitting, etc. Anything and everything he’ll find a way to be by your side.
You’re baking sweets? He’s sitting at the table, watching, or he’s helping. You’re cleaning? He cleans too. You’re sitting on the couch watching your favorite show? Shouto’s right next to you reading a book. You don’t have to speak, just being in the same room is enough.
Shouto enjoys physical affection, but sometimes his skin crawls at the thought of being touched. All the time he spent as a child being “trained” made him angry. More than anything, how isolated he was, left him with a lingering lonely ache in his heart that spending quality time with you heals.
One of his favorite pastimes involves playing the piano while you lounge nearby. He doesn’t sing, fingers dancing over the keys, smiling when you catch his eye.
He’s a little lighter day by day.
━ ˗ˏˋ ꒱ katsuki | acts of service |
Katsuki is an “actions speak louder than words” kind of man.
Before starting to date you were aware Katsuki liked you because of all the little things he did to show it. It ramps up times ten after he’s your boyfriend.
He never forgets a single detail about you. After a few times of visiting his place, you start to notice pieces of you filling his home. Your favorite snacks are in his cabinet, the drinks you love are in the fridge. He gets these fluffy, incredibly soft blankets so you don’t have to keep bringing one when you stay over.
He cooks for you. He never forgets your birthday, any type of anniversary or holiday that’s important to you. Katsuki puts your towel in the dryer to warm it up because he knows you get cold right after.
This man even tracks your cycle to be sure he’s stocked up on what you need. He’s absolutely fucking not letting you go to the store when you’re in pain.
When you return this act of love, no matter how small, his lips press together and he turns pink. His eyes get glassy and he snaps at you for teasing him about his blushing, but he hugs you tight and whispers “thank you” every time.
━ ˗ˏˋ ꒱ eijirou | words of affirmation |
“I trust your judgement.”
“I love our life together.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
You couldn’t begin to keep count of all the loving phrases Eijirou’s said over the years. They get creative, they get silly, they get so heartwarming it brings you to tears.
One instance stands out. Eijirou’d forgotten to set his alarm so he woke up late. Since he woke up late he was unable to make his morning smoothie. He spent the rest of the day texting you and whining about how it messed up his flow.
You get up earlier than Eijirou. So the next morning, as you made breakfast, you went ahead and made his smoothie around the time he comes to the kitchen. You set it on the counter with a sleepy smile, explaining that he makes you happy and you want to make him happy.
His lower lip wobbled and he stepped around the counter to clutch your hands. “You’re the light of my life,” he said. It was so sincere your knees got weak.
You stuttered and ducked your head but Eijirou raised your chin with his finger for a kiss.
It became a habit from then on. Eijirou reminding you every morning you’re the light of his life.
Twisted up with Shoto, you lie tangled in morning light as it spills through the bay window. The sun traces across his face—now chiseled, no longer carrying the roundness of youth from his days at U.A.
Time has sharpened him into the man lying in front of you.
His eyes are peaceful now, the constant worry that once lived in his mismatched gaze faded to something gentler. The sadness hasn’t left him entirely—it lingers—but it no longer owns him.
He’s taller now, stronger. The long red and white strands from his teenage years, always slipping across his face, have been traded for a short, uneven buzz—still messy when you run your fingers through it, still tousled from sleep. As he stirs, his hand still finds your wrist, fingers curling lightly to feel your pulse. He always sleeps like that. Says he can't rest unless he knows you're okay—not just in words, but through the steady beat of your heart.
His legs are tangled with yours, sweatpants bunched just enough to press warm skin against skin, sending shivers up your spine even after all these years. He blinks slowly, eyes unfocused at first, then zeroing in on you with a soft rasp, “Good morning, my love,” before nestling into your chest—the place he wishes, on certain days, he could crawl inside and disappear into completely.
But the day calls. Eventually, you both rise, socked feet padding across cold wooden floors. Shoto trails behind you, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his navy long-sleeve shirt too big—sleeves falling past his wrists. He yawns, wide and soft, while you open the cabinet to choose a tea.
You choose chai, brewing it with milk and creamer. Shoto, wordless but smiling, grabs a few apples you’d picked together at the orchard days ago. He slices them with gentle precision, arranging them on a plate into a smiley face, adding a sprinkle of cinnamon on yours.
It’s a lazy day. The sky outside glows golden, with leaves the color of crimson and sawdust drifting down in slow spirals. An owl perches silently on a thick oak branch, watching. The air carries that crisp bite of deep autumn.
You take your drinks to the swinging bench outside, the one that frames a perfect view of the mountains and the flame-colored forest. He hums a quiet tune—something soft, something for you—as you sip your tea and bite into a crisp apple slice that tastes of late harvest and something like healing.
The day unfolds slowly, not in a dragging way, but in a way you can savor—measured, precious. A day that reminds you both: you’re no longer trapped, no longer held in cages by those who mistook your open hands for surrender. No more lessons taught through cruelty. Just peace.
Shoto reads. You write. Later, you lie across the couch, your legs tossed over his lap. When your restlessness stirs, he shifts, letting his hand rest in your lap while you thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching his scalp just right.
You take a lazy shower together, lathering jasmine soap over each other’s skin, steam wrapping around you like silk. The water is hot, seeping into your bones, unraveling what tension remains.
Night comes gently. You crawl into bed, and Shoto sits up behind you, brushing your hair with the special bamboo he insists is the only one that doesn’t pull. With patient, reverent hands, he braids your hair slowly, as if weaving a prayer.
You turn to him, cup his scarred cheek. Your thumb brushes over the burn that blooms beneath his eye. He smiles soft and sure, and you lean in to kiss him.
His hands slip into your hair, undoing the braid he just made without even realizing it. He holds you like a man starved, like he’s been waiting all day—maybe all his life—for this moment. Love spills out of him in waves, unraveling from his chest, rising to his lips, crashing into yours.
His kiss is tender, achingly full. The sounds he makes—soft, caught between sigh and hum—are the only lullabies you need. He tastes like the honey and milk, you stir into your tea, that saves your soul, with every warm sip.
