CONTXT ; you're celebrating izuku's birthday with him, bakugo and shoto...except all the chaos that might be happening in the party might just be leaking onto social media... I mean what could go so wrong about that??
CW ; an izuku birthday special smau (that I did just for fun), all platonic interactions with zero implied romance, probably ooc, mentions of izuku, katsuki, shoto, ochako and iida, ignore timestamps or interaction counts, none of the art used is owned by me (credit to og artists), best viewed in light mode
masterlist | taglist
tagged: @riykya
a/n: happy birthday izuku!! genuinely created these for the funs of it becos I got so inspired by some art I found on pinterest and went like "omgosh that would make such a great ig or twt post!!" look where that got me... (anyways im gna go to sleep now becos guess who stayed up js to get this uploaded...ha ha ha...)
CONTXT ; you're celebrating izuku's birthday with him, bakugo and shoto...except all the chaos that might be happening in the party might just be leaking onto social media... I mean what could go so wrong about that??
CW ; an izuku birthday special smau (that I did just for fun), all platonic interactions with zero implied romance, probably ooc, mentions of izuku, katsuki, shoto, ochako and iida, ignore timestamps or interaction counts, none of the art used is owned by me (credit to og artists), best viewed in light mode
masterlist | taglist
tagged: @riykya
a/n: happy birthday izuku!! genuinely created these for the funs of it becos I got so inspired by some art I found on pinterest and went like "omgosh that would make such a great ig or twt post!!" look where that got me... (anyways im gna go to sleep now becos guess who stayed up js to get this uploaded...ha ha ha...)
CONTXT. you broke up with shoto a long time ago. shoto thought that he has already made the matter part of his past, until your wedding resurfaces supposed "past" emotions.
CW. exes, angst, brief mentions of familial loss (touya), both shoto and f!reader are pro-heros, written in third person's perspective (but focuses more on shoto), I lowk did not proof read this sry guys, wc: 4.3k
Shoto can't remember the last time he had fit himself in a suit. In fact, he hadn't expected to find a suit sitting in his closet. If not for the fact that his mind prompted him to check his closet, just in case, he would've made a run down to his brother's house to lend one. After all, he was sure that Shouta would have one.
If not for the fact that he had worn this exact suit to Touya's funeral, maybe he would've forgotten when was the last time he had taken it out of the closet. It's edges remained uncrinkled, completely straightened, a sign that it has been left untouched until now.
Unbuttoning the white blouse, Shoto slipped it onto his broad shoulders, the cold fabric brushing against his skin lightly. Staring into the mirror in his bathroom, his fingers shifted to adjust the collar. It clearly appeared like a good fit, yet somehow the fabric seemed to faintly squeeze against his neck—it felt suffocating to be in a suit like this.
It's only the illusion of your brain. Shoto thought to himself, tucking his arms into the dark coloured blazer next. There seemed to be white specks of dust lining the edges of the blazer, but not that it mattered as much to Shoto. There wasn't anyone who would nitpick about him not using a lint roller to clean his blazer anymore. Neither would there be anyone who would be observant enough to care about what was attaching itself to his blazer either.
A slight buzz causes Shoto's attention to be brought from his reflection in the bathroom mirror, to his phone which sat on his bedside table. The screen was lighted up, with the phone slightly vibrating—a sign that someone was calling him.
Walking over calmly, with no hurry in his steps, he reached over to his phone. There was only two reasons his phone would be vibrating this early in the morning. One, it was the dispatch system alerting him about a criminal who could be so considerate to make heroes start work as early into the morning. Two, it was simply his mother calling in to check up on him.
It has been become a habit of Shoto's for him and his mother to exchange conversations, whether through the phone or via letters, even after she had been discharged from the hospital. Part of the reason was to ease the worries Shoto's mother would have about him. It was natural for a mother to worry about her son, especially when they no longer lived together and the only few times she could see him was either through the screen, or during family reunions. Another part of the reason was so that Shoto could be updated on how the rest of his family members were doing.
However, this time, the screen showed something completely different. It wasn't either of the two possibilities he had expected. Rather, it was an unknown caller ID.
Scrunching up his eyebrows in confusion, Shoto swiped to pick up the call. Although it was probably advisable for him to not pick up unknown numbers, especially since it could place a threat, it was odd to leave it hanging as well. Placing his phone speaker close to his ear as he spoke up,
"Hello? Shoto Todoroki here. How may I help you?"
The other line seemed to remain silent for a second, before he finally picked up faint breathing on the other end—a sign that there was someone on the line and they had heard him.
"Oh, Shoto…It's me, Yn's father…"
Shoto could feel his body stiffen for a moment, his gaze shifting slightly to the clock on his bedside table. He let his gaze pause on the date reflected on the digital clock for a brief moment, almost as if he was expecting a different digit to be reflected on it.
"Yn's father, I see. May I ask what's the matter?"
His voice finally breaks the silence. He forces his gaze away from the digital clock, turning to meet the light rays of sunshine peeking their way into his room through the slight gaps of his blinds. They were reflecting a light shadow across his tatami floor.
"Is it possible for you to pick us up…? Me and Yn's mother got a little lost…trying to find our way to the venue…"
Shoto was about to part open his lips, ready to give a response to your father, until his next set of words poured in through the speaker.
"I'm sorry, son… You know we don't really have anyone else to rely on…"
Instantly, the words vanish from his lips. Instead, Shoto finds himself swallowing slightly—not out of nervousness, but rather, slight detachment.
That was something that had slipped out of your parents' lips often. Especially, while the two of you were still together. After all, back then, everything seemed so promising—promise rings worn on both your fingers, your father and Shoto had been silently drafting up proposal ideas behind your back for a month straight…the marriage was practically in sight.
It had already became a natural habit for them, to call him their son. Yet, it also showed their lingering attachment towards both your relationship—something that Shoto and you had already let go of, yet they're still holding onto the end of that broken thread subconsciously.
Shoto knows he can't blame your parents. However, he can't help but feel disconnected every time your parents address him so endearingly—like he was still part of your family.
This was even more particularly so, because of today's event. It was your wedding. You were getting wedded to someone else, someone who was clearly the opposite of Shoto.
Someone who wasn't a pro-hero, so that they could help you balance out with house chores and whatever gaps you couldn't fill as you busied yourself with pro-hero duties. Back then, you had always thought that since you and Shoto were both pro-heroes, your relationship would've worked out better than any other. After all, you were both in the same job scope, it was easier to understand what each other couldn't commit to and fill each other's gaps.
But that was what both you and Shoto had miscalulated about. Since the both of you worked in the same scope, it meant both of you were busy around the same time. Every time a dispatch call came in, the two of you had to immediately abandon whatever you were working on, for the sake of the world. Even if it meant putting aside the steak you were halfway cooking.
By the time the two of you returned back to the kitchen, you were too tired to even fumble for your cooking apron and resume the half-cooked steak you were making. But if Shoto took over that responsibility, you would claim to feel too guilty, since it was a mess you started. You were a strong believer of finishing what you had started.
Hence, you'd end up tiredly cooking what remains of dinner and sitting down to enjoy dinner with Shoto. Except, every dinner conversation would've went back to evaluating the villians both of you had just dealt with, making none of it feel like a warm and heartfelt dinner.
Of course, that was not the only miscalculations the both of you realised y'all had made. There were many others that you discovered along the way, which made the initial affection and warmth in your relationship turn cold. With that, you had long tossed the thread which strung the both of you together away, ready to move on. If you were to hear your parents call Shoto in such an endearing manner, Shoto can't imagine the disappointment you'd feel inside.
You were never one to make rash decisions after all. You probably contemplated over this wedding a million times. Maybe, you even stressed over making it a perfect event, to the point you barely slept the night before. If you were to hear about your parents still living in the events of the past, it would simply sound like you had made a decision no one was supporting you in. To you, that was the worst nightmare. It was almost equivalent to already failing, even when the outcome hasn't been completed.
"Of course, I don't mind."
Shoto resorts to saying, his tone remaining polite and gentle—something that he found himself using whenever he was addressing older locals in the neighbourhood while patrolling.
The call soon ended with him and your parents exchanging a few pleasantries. Shoto vaguely remembers them thanking him profusely, perhaps calling him 'son' more than once in those sentences, but truthfully he had started disassociating from the phone call since the moment your parents had addressed him endearingly.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting. He should've expected to hear something like this, even after a long time. After all, your parents had called him out of anyone else. Even as a last resort, he should've seen it coming.
As much as you and Shoto had broken up on good terms, to the point you had invited him to your wedding, it wasn't like the both of you could be close once again like there was nothing that had went down between the both of you. If that was possible, you would've long asked for Shoto to be part of your wedding preparations. His calm and collected mind would've soothed your easily anxious one, either way.
If anything, the both of you had simply regained friend status. Nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes, you'd even only seem to address Shoto like a fellow hero colleague. The once chirpy voice you bore as you called him by his first name was long gone, replaced by the simple professional voice you used in work settings. Alongside with his last name, Todoroki.
That spited Shoto sometimes, in a way that he couldn't quite understand. He liked to reason with his heart that it was because Shoto was your hero name. Didn't it seem more professional to call him by his hero name during work settings, instead of his family name?
Pulling up to the intersection your parents had stated they were lost at, Shoto unlocked his car doors as soon as he spotted your parents heading up to his car through the rearview window. They wore such huge smiles on their faces, just as he had remembered them to have.
If there was one thing he couldn't forget about your parents, it was how they always wore a smile on their face, no matter the situation. It was even more vividly so, considering that he had remembered the day both of you broke the news to your parents, they were still smiling—or at least, attempting to do so. Maybe it was your parents' way of making situations lighter.
The only thing that seemed to have changed about your parents, was the wrinkles on their face seemed to have multipled. Others would've called it a tell-tale sign of aging, but you perhaps would've just called them smile lines. It was your way of keeping your parents' laments about growing old minimal and making them less worried about growing older in age.
Maybe, it was also your way of reassuring yourself that time passing by quickly was only an illusion of the mind. You had always seemed to hate the idea of your parents growing old and potentially leaving you, either ways. Shoto used to have thought it was because you feared being left alone, until he realised you were capable of doing fine alone too.
Maybe he was the one that wasn't functioning well alone. Even if he thought it would've been all okay. After all, even before meeting you, he was living alone without his family.
But he could tell the difference between him then and him now was stark. Even his mother could possibly pick it up, which may have been the reason why her calling had became more frequent. He had been silently avoiding meeting his mother in person, knowing she would easily pick up on emotional cues like this, yet she could still tell something was amiss through a simple phone call.
Before he had met you, while he was living alone, he could still find ways to keep himself occupied—learning to make his own bowls and utensils to enjoy soba with. But now, he had simply found it hard to stay focused on one activity himself. Sometimes, he would be glancing over at his phone screen more than three times, in less than a minute. It was almost as if he was simply anticipating a dispatch call, anything to keep him moving on his feet.
Though, Shoto has been trying to convince himself he has been improving. Swallowing once more, Shoto glanced up towards his rearview mirror once more, adjusting his blouse collar again. It still felt like it was sitting uncomfortably around his neck, the illusion not fading away, even when his mind has been kept occupied with multiple thoughts racing through his head since your parents' call.
Yet, that inevitable feeling seemed to continue. It's almost as if it was trying to nudge him to realise something. Maybe something like a sign for him to get a new suit, even if he barely wore any suits.
Just as his fingers left his collar, his car door finally swung open, revealing your parents as they slid themselves into the back passenger seat. Upon a closer look, Shoto seemed to have an expression, almost wry, behind their smiles. It was something he had failed to notice earlier from a distance through his rearview mirror.
"Thank you once again, Shoto."
Your mother spoke up, breaking the silence which was only filled with the sounds of shuffling as they shifted into the passenger seat. Your mother's voice was still as warm and sweet as Shoto remembered it to be. It almost felt as though nothing much has changed, until his gaze shifted towards his phone once again.
On his calendar widget, the reminder remained—Yn's wedding. That reminder was enough for the small instinctive smile to twist slightly on his lips. At that moment, Shoto suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for thinking nothing has changed, making him swallow back his response and settle for a brief nod at your parents instead.
"We've been feeling oddly nervous recently. Maybe, that's why we lost our way…anxiety must've muddled our brains…"
Your father later spoke up, the wry smile slowly turning into a bashful one on his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed, the shade close to the pale redness resembling the skin of an apple.
"No worries. It's normal for such a grand event like this to be nerve wrecking for the both of you."
That was the simple response Shoto settled on, fixing his gaze back on the road ahead as he drove out of the intersection, back into the main road. A part of him expected either one of your parents to immediately add on to his words, after all they had always been incredibly chatty whenever he was around—or at least that was what you claimed before.
Your parents particularly loved talking to him. Every time he joined your family dinners, you had claimed that the dinner table would get significantly chattier—with your parents constantly showering Shoto with questions or random stories.
Yet, the car seemed to fall silent after Shoto's words. Your parents seemed to have nothing to add on, or if they did, they were somehow holding back from breaking the silence once more.
This silence continued on for the rest of the journey, with the GPS occasionally chiming in with turn-by-turn guidances. Initially, Shoto found it odd. He knew that he wasn't alone on the car ride, yet the silence seemed to make it feel that way. But slowly, he found himself getting accustomed to the silence. It seemed to settle his mind with slight peace, without the pressure of having to entertain your parents' words.
Before he knew it, he was soon arriving at the destination. He could see the figure and shape of the venue you had chosen slowly coming into view from his car windshield.
It was a beautiful white cathedral. The only thing that contrasted itself from the white architecture, was the colourful stained glass windows which showed various imageries. The venue looked just as you had described your dream wedding venue to be like.
You had always wanted your wedding to be in cathedral with colourful stained glass windows, even if you weren't religious. It was because you had claimed that if light was to be streaming in through the window, while you exchanged your vows, the photo would turn out extremely beautiful.
It would illuminate a magical gradient of colour into your photos, standing out much more compared to the boring stream of white or orange light streaming in through the windows, as couples exchanged their vows. It was a boring and repetitive sight in wedding photographs to you.
As Shoto was about to turn slightly, ready to inform them that he was soon arriving at the destination, your mother finally broke the silence once more. The words came out of her lips at a speed that nearly made them undecipherable, almost as if she could no longer hold back her words.
"Have you talked to Yn before this wedding at all, Shoto?"
Upon hearing her question, Shoto could feel his wandering thoughts come to a momentary pause. He could only part open his lips a few times, only to realise no coherent words were going to fall out of them, before closing it once more.
"I mean— I figured Yn might consult you for certain things about her wedding. She always could've used an extra set of helping hands… You know how she can get… always worrying her head to the point she barely gets anything done…"
Your mother continued, seeing that Shoto wasn't responding to her question. Maybe a part of the elaboration was to quickly patch up the misunderstandings that could've been stirred up, based on how she had asked Shoto that question. But, it barely made any difference—to Shoto, at least.
"I'm sure her groom filled in that need of hers, in that aspect."
He finally responds, his words sounding more colder than he had wanted it to be. If there wasn't any tension between Shoto and your parents, he may have built up a wall of tension with your parents now. Especially with how detached his tone seemed to have sounded, almost like it was a topic he didn't want to talk about.
"Ah— Right…"
Your mother immediately responded back, her tone sounding slightly apologetic. The silence that sat between all of you within the car now seemed to have become uncomfortable once more. The effort it had taken for Shoto to get accustomed to the awkward silence, had now became futile—with a simple question, which seemed to rub him off in the slightest wrong way.
Thankfully, the remaining time Shoto had to spend with your parents on the car didn't last much longer, for he had soon parked at a parking space near the venue.
Once Shoto stepped out of the car, he moved to open the door for your parents. An action that he used to do for your parents—hoping to continually earn their favour and respect—has now became a mere action out of politeness and consideration. In return, Shoto received a simple nod of gratitude from your father and a wry smile that seemed to have crawled its way back onto your mother's lips again.
Closing the door behind your parents, Shoto watched as they walked towards the wedding venue, their backs turned towards him. The small smile he had been unconsciously holding across his lips finally drops, before he tore his gaze away from your parents' disappearing figure towards the cathedral.
He hadn't realised this before while driving, but he found this exact cathedral rather familiar. Pausing close to the steps leading up to the main entrance, Shoto's eyes drifted towards a bush that was filled with peonies.
"Those are my favourite flowers. When I plan my wedding, I hope that I can decorate the hall with small bouquets of peonies."
Your voice suddenly echoed in his head. For a moment, he had thought you were right next to him, speaking with a warm smile on your lips. But as he turned to search for your figure, it only brought him back to reality—that he was standing before the steps leading up to your wedding venue.
Then, he remembered when you had said those exact words which he had came to his mind. It was during both your patrol duties, where the two of you were working together for.
If he remembered correctly, it was this exact cathedral that the both of you had walked by that started the conversation of your dream wedding. Shoto remembered the gaze you bore as you spoke then, eyes brimming with pure elation, to the point it seemed like it was reflecting a sky full of stars.
As Shoto recalls your expression and tone, he couldn't help but feel a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. A thought that was similar to what he had spoken aloud to you then, in response to your words, came to his mind—you seemed like a little kid describing their favourite toys.
Now, you were doing exactly what you had dreamed of. Shoto didn't even have to step into the wedding hall to imagine how the venue looked like. He knew that if you somehow found a way to hold your wedding at the exact cathedral you wanted, him stepping into the hall and realising it was decorated by different bundles of peonies wouldn't be too far off from reality either.
You would somehow always find a way to make things go according to your plan, even when you would panic halfway through the procedure. He had no doubt that you'd nail all the details about your dream wedding, exactly down to even the smallest things you had talked about, hoping they'd come alive someday.
If anything, Shoto would only worry whether if by the end of your wedding, would you truly be satisfied and happy with the outcome? He had seen the amount of times you pulled off a plan, exactly as you had imagined it to turn out, but at the end of it all you could go on insisting something was missing from it all.
You were never one who was easily pleased. If you truly were that easy to please, perhaps the both of you would've never broken up. After all, to Shoto there never seemed to be anything deeply wrong about the both of your relationship.
It was only that somedays didn't work out as well as others. The time y'all spent was easily cut short, especially since both of you were pro-heros. On certain date nights outside, you'd run into fans who want both you and Shoto's autographs and pictures. But other than that, the both of you functioned like how any other couple would.
Yet, that was enough problems for you to find dissatisfaction in the relationship both of you shared. You had claimed you were too tired to constantly pretend those days were nothing, or that two pro-heros couldn't make things work, and even how the both of you were too busy for one another.
Initially, Shoto tried to brush away those complaints of yours, seeing them as in-the-moment frustrations that you wanted to get off your head. However, along the way, he realised that it was because you had made up your mind on something—that you could no longer imagine a future with him inside it.
Cheers started erupting from the crowd, pulling Shoto away from his thoughts once more. He was now sitted on those wooden benches, commonly seen in a cathedral, among the people you and your groom had invited to the wedding.
He was witnessing your wedding ceremony spin into action, and he could only hope for himself to stop reflecting back on past memories. After all, as he watched you walk down the aisle, with a bright smile that seemed to cover half of your face, he could tell whatever happened between you and him were simply events of the past.
You were now anticipating towards a new found future with the groom who stood before you, waiting for you with a similar look of joy. There wasn't even a look of doubt on your face, as the both of you exchanged vows, in comparison to the expression you wore on your face everytime you confronted him with new frustrations regarding both your relationship.
"Congratulations on your wedding, Yn."
Shoto found himself mumbling, the words spilling out of his lips as a smile slowly forming across his face. As the words left his mouth, the feeling of the collar of his blouse tightly squeezing his neck seemed to fade away gradually as well.
It was only then, Shoto realised that perhaps all along, his unresolved emotions towards the ending of you and his relationship had been silently suffocating him all along.
While, it was disappointing to know he couldn't be the groom who stood by your side to form that joy on your face, that responsibility to make you happy no longer lied on him.
Someone new, that you now call love, will fill those shoes for him. To accomplish whatever new dream you behold, that would make your eyes sparkle like a million stars, together with you. To love you in a way that would make you the happiest wife possible. And to form new and memorable memories with you, memories that you never forget to smile when thinking back upon.
All while, Shoto starts to learn how to love you, in a different way. Even if it was in a manner that his past self would never imagine was possible.
a/n: my first mha fic!! yay!! (pls cut me some slack if I wrote ooc...) divider quotes from your favourite flowers by MICO (because this fic was lowk inspired by it) I actually didn't expect this fic to be 4k ish words long but some writing monster took over my brain and I just KEPT writing (sorry shoto I didn't mean to write 4k words about your suffering...)
LEAFY!! HELLOOO!! Ive been doing well thanks for asking🥹 surprisingly might be coping with the first week of sch btr than I expected (but keeping it at "might be" in case I somehow jinx myself... esp since this week isn't over yet🙂↕️🤞)
CONTXT. you broke up with shoto a long time ago. shoto thought that he has already made the matter part of his past, until your wedding resurfaces supposed "past" emotions.
CW. exes, angst, brief mentions of familial loss (touya), both shoto and f!reader are pro-heros, written in third person's perspective (but focuses more on shoto), I lowk did not proof read this sry guys, wc: 4.3k
Shoto can't remember the last time he had fit himself in a suit. In fact, he hadn't expected to find a suit sitting in his closet. If not for the fact that his mind prompted him to check his closet, just in case, he would've made a run down to his brother's house to lend one. After all, he was sure that Natsuo would have one.
If not for the fact that he had worn this exact suit to Touya's funeral, maybe he would've forgotten when was the last time he had taken it out of the closet. It's edges remained uncrinkled, completely straightened, a sign that it has been left untouched until now.
Unbuttoning the white blouse, Shoto slipped it onto his broad shoulders, the cold fabric brushing against his skin lightly. Staring into the mirror in his bathroom, his fingers shifted to adjust the collar. It clearly appeared like a good fit, yet somehow the fabric seemed to faintly squeeze against his neck—it felt suffocating to be in a suit like this.
It's only the illusion of your brain. Shoto thought to himself, tucking his arms into the dark coloured blazer next. There seemed to be white specks of dust lining the edges of the blazer, but not that it mattered as much to Shoto. There wasn't anyone who would nitpick about him not using a lint roller to clean his blazer anymore. Neither would there be anyone who would be observant enough to care about what was attaching itself to his blazer either.
A slight buzz causes Shoto's attention to be brought from his reflection in the bathroom mirror, to his phone which sat on his bedside table. The screen was lighted up, with the phone slightly vibrating—a sign that someone was calling him.
Walking over calmly, with no hurry in his steps, he reached over to his phone. There was only two reasons his phone would be vibrating this early in the morning. One, it was the dispatch system alerting him about a criminal who could be so considerate to make heroes start work as early into the morning. Two, it was simply his mother calling in to check up on him.
It has been become a habit of Shoto's for him and his mother to exchange conversations, whether through the phone or via letters, even after she had been discharged from the hospital. Part of the reason was to ease the worries Shoto's mother would have about him. It was natural for a mother to worry about her son, especially when they no longer lived together and the only few times she could see him was either through the screen, or during family reunions. Another part of the reason was so that Shoto could be updated on how the rest of his family members were doing.
However, this time, the screen showed something completely different. It wasn't either of the two possibilities he had expected. Rather, it was an unknown caller ID.
Scrunching up his eyebrows in confusion, Shoto swiped to pick up the call. Although it was probably advisable for him to not pick up unknown numbers, especially since it could place a threat, it was odd to leave it hanging as well. Placing his phone speaker close to his ear as he spoke up,
"Hello? Shoto Todoroki here. How may I help you?"
The other line seemed to remain silent for a second, before he finally picked up faint breathing on the other end—a sign that there was someone on the line and they had heard him.
"Oh, Shoto…It's me, Yn's father…"
Shoto could feel his body stiffen for a moment, his gaze shifting slightly to the clock on his bedside table. He let his gaze pause on the date reflected on the digital clock for a brief moment, almost as if he was expecting a different digit to be reflected on it.
"Yn's father, I see. May I ask what's the matter?"
His voice finally breaks the silence. He forces his gaze away from the digital clock, turning to meet the light rays of sunshine peeking their way into his room through the slight gaps of his blinds. They were reflecting a light shadow across his tatami floor.
"Is it possible for you to pick us up…? Me and Yn's mother got a little lost…trying to find our way to the venue…"
Shoto was about to part open his lips, ready to give a response to your father, until his next set of words poured in through the speaker.
"I'm sorry, son… You know we don't really have anyone else to rely on…"
Instantly, the words vanish from his lips. Instead, Shoto finds himself swallowing slightly—not out of nervousness, but rather, slight detachment.
That was something that had slipped out of your parents' lips often. Especially, while the two of you were still together. After all, back then, everything seemed so promising—promise rings worn on both your fingers, your father and Shoto had been silently drafting up proposal ideas behind your back for a month straight…the marriage was practically in sight.
It had already became a natural habit for them, to call him their son. Yet, it also showed their lingering attachment towards both your relationship—something that Shoto and you had already let go of, yet they're still holding onto the end of that broken thread subconsciously.
Shoto knows he can't blame your parents. However, he can't help but feel disconnected every time your parents address him so endearingly—like he was still part of your family.
This was even more particularly so, because of today's event. It was your wedding. You were getting wedded to someone else, someone who was clearly the opposite of Shoto.
Someone who wasn't a pro-hero, so that they could help you balance out with house chores and whatever gaps you couldn't fill as you busied yourself with pro-hero duties. Back then, you had always thought that since you and Shoto were both pro-heroes, your relationship would've worked out better than any other. After all, you were both in the same job scope, it was easier to understand what each other couldn't commit to and fill each other's gaps.
But that was what both you and Shoto had miscalulated about. Since the both of you worked in the same scope, it meant both of you were busy around the same time. Every time a dispatch call came in, the two of you had to immediately abandon whatever you were working on, for the sake of the world. Even if it meant putting aside the steak you were halfway cooking.
By the time the two of you returned back to the kitchen, you were too tired to even fumble for your cooking apron and resume the half-cooked steak you were making. But if Shoto took over that responsibility, you would claim to feel too guilty, since it was a mess you started. You were a strong believer of finishing what you had started.
Hence, you'd end up tiredly cooking what remains of dinner and sitting down to enjoy dinner with Shoto. Except, every dinner conversation would've went back to evaluating the villians both of you had just dealt with, making none of it feel like a warm and heartfelt dinner.
Of course, that was not the only miscalculations the both of you realised y'all had made. There were many others that you discovered along the way, which made the initial affection and warmth in your relationship turn cold. With that, you had long tossed the thread which strung the both of you together away, ready to move on. If you were to hear your parents call Shoto in such an endearing manner, Shoto can't imagine the disappointment you'd feel inside.
You were never one to make rash decisions after all. You probably contemplated over this wedding a million times. Maybe, you even stressed over making it a perfect event, to the point you barely slept the night before. If you were to hear about your parents still living in the events of the past, it would simply sound like you had made a decision no one was supporting you in. To you, that was the worst nightmare. It was almost equivalent to already failing, even when the outcome hasn't been completed.
"Of course, I don't mind."
Shoto resorts to saying, his tone remaining polite and gentle—something that he found himself using whenever he was addressing older locals in the neighbourhood while patrolling.
The call soon ended with him and your parents exchanging a few pleasantries. Shoto vaguely remembers them thanking him profusely, perhaps calling him 'son' more than once in those sentences, but truthfully he had started disassociating from the phone call since the moment your parents had addressed him endearingly.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting. He should've expected to hear something like this, even after a long time. After all, your parents had called him out of anyone else. Even as a last resort, he should've seen it coming.
As much as you and Shoto had broken up on good terms, to the point you had invited him to your wedding, it wasn't like the both of you could be close once again like there was nothing that had went down between the both of you. If that was possible, you would've long asked for Shoto to be part of your wedding preparations. His calm and collected mind would've soothed your easily anxious one, either way.
If anything, the both of you had simply regained friend status. Nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes, you'd even only seem to address Shoto like a fellow hero colleague. The once chirpy voice you bore as you called him by his first name was long gone, replaced by the simple professional voice you used in work settings. Alongside with his last name, Todoroki.
That spited Shoto sometimes, in a way that he couldn't quite understand. He liked to reason with his heart that it was because Shoto was your hero name. Didn't it seem more professional to call him by his hero name during work settings, instead of his family name?
Pulling up to the intersection your parents had stated they were lost at, Shoto unlocked his car doors as soon as he spotted your parents heading up to his car through the rearview window. They wore such huge smiles on their faces, just as he had remembered them to have.
If there was one thing he couldn't forget about your parents, it was how they always wore a smile on their face, no matter the situation. It was even more vividly so, considering that he had remembered the day both of you broke the news to your parents, they were still smiling—or at least, attempting to do so. Maybe it was your parents' way of making situations lighter.
The only thing that seemed to have changed about your parents, was the wrinkles on their face seemed to have multipled. Others would've called it a tell-tale sign of aging, but you perhaps would've just called them smile lines. It was your way of keeping your parents' laments about growing old minimal and making them less worried about growing older in age.
Maybe, it was also your way of reassuring yourself that time passing by quickly was only an illusion of the mind. You had always seemed to hate the idea of your parents growing old and potentially leaving you, either ways. Shoto used to have thought it was because you feared being left alone, until he realised you were capable of doing fine alone too.
Maybe he was the one that wasn't functioning well alone. Even if he thought it would've been all okay. After all, even before meeting you, he was living alone without his family.
But he could tell the difference between him then and him now was stark. Even his mother could possibly pick it up, which may have been the reason why her calling had became more frequent. He had been silently avoiding meeting his mother in person, knowing she would easily pick up on emotional cues like this, yet she could still tell something was amiss through a simple phone call.
Before he had met you, while he was living alone, he could still find ways to keep himself occupied—learning to make his own bowls and utensils to enjoy soba with. But now, he had simply found it hard to stay focused on one activity himself. Sometimes, he would be glancing over at his phone screen more than three times, in less than a minute. It was almost as if he was simply anticipating a dispatch call, anything to keep him moving on his feet.
Though, Shoto has been trying to convince himself he has been improving. Swallowing once more, Shoto glanced up towards his rearview mirror once more, adjusting his blouse collar again. It still felt like it was sitting uncomfortably around his neck, the illusion not fading away, even when his mind has been kept occupied with multiple thoughts racing through his head since your parents' call.
Yet, that inevitable feeling seemed to continue. It's almost as if it was trying to nudge him to realise something. Maybe something like a sign for him to get a new suit, even if he barely wore any suits.
Just as his fingers left his collar, his car door finally swung open, revealing your parents as they slid themselves into the back passenger seat. Upon a closer look, Shoto seemed to have an expression, almost wry, behind their smiles. It was something he had failed to notice earlier from a distance through his rearview mirror.
"Thank you once again, Shoto."
Your mother spoke up, breaking the silence which was only filled with the sounds of shuffling as they shifted into the passenger seat. Your mother's voice was still as warm and sweet as Shoto remembered it to be. It almost felt as though nothing much has changed, until his gaze shifted towards his phone once again.
On his calendar widget, the reminder remained—Yn's wedding. That reminder was enough for the small instinctive smile to twist slightly on his lips. At that moment, Shoto suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for thinking nothing has changed, making him swallow back his response and settle for a brief nod at your parents instead.
"We've been feeling oddly nervous recently. Maybe, that's why we lost our way…anxiety must've muddled our brains…"
Your father later spoke up, the wry smile slowly turning into a bashful one on his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed, the shade close to the pale redness resembling the skin of an apple.
"No worries. It's normal for such a grand event like this to be nerve wrecking for the both of you."
That was the simple response Shoto settled on, fixing his gaze back on the road ahead as he drove out of the intersection, back into the main road. A part of him expected either one of your parents to immediately add on to his words, after all they had always been incredibly chatty whenever he was around—or at least that was what you claimed before.
Your parents particularly loved talking to him. Every time he joined your family dinners, you had claimed that the dinner table would get significantly chattier—with your parents constantly showering Shoto with questions or random stories.
Yet, the car seemed to fall silent after Shoto's words. Your parents seemed to have nothing to add on, or if they did, they were somehow holding back from breaking the silence once more.
This silence continued on for the rest of the journey, with the GPS occasionally chiming in with turn-by-turn guidances. Initially, Shoto found it odd. He knew that he wasn't alone on the car ride, yet the silence seemed to make it feel that way. But slowly, he found himself getting accustomed to the silence. It seemed to settle his mind with slight peace, without the pressure of having to entertain your parents' words.
Before he knew it, he was soon arriving at the destination. He could see the figure and shape of the venue you had chosen slowly coming into view from his car windshield.
It was a beautiful white cathedral. The only thing that contrasted itself from the white architecture, was the colourful stained glass windows which showed various imageries. The venue looked just as you had described your dream wedding venue to be like.
You had always wanted your wedding to be in cathedral with colourful stained glass windows, even if you weren't religious. It was because you had claimed that if light was to be streaming in through the window, while you exchanged your vows, the photo would turn out extremely beautiful.
It would illuminate a magical gradient of colour into your photos, standing out much more compared to the boring stream of white or orange light streaming in through the windows, as couples exchanged their vows. It was a boring and repetitive sight in wedding photographs to you.
As Shoto was about to turn slightly, ready to inform them that he was soon arriving at the destination, your mother finally broke the silence once more. The words came out of her lips at a speed that nearly made them undecipherable, almost as if she could no longer hold back her words.
"Have you talked to Yn before this wedding at all, Shoto?"
Upon hearing her question, Shoto could feel his wandering thoughts come to a momentary pause. He could only part open his lips a few times, only to realise no coherent words were going to fall out of them, before closing it once more.
"I mean— I figured Yn might consult you for certain things about her wedding. She always could've used an extra set of helping hands… You know how she can get… always worrying her head to the point she barely gets anything done…"
Your mother continued, seeing that Shoto wasn't responding to her question. Maybe a part of the elaboration was to quickly patch up the misunderstandings that could've been stirred up, based on how she had asked Shoto that question. But, it barely made any difference—to Shoto, at least.
"I'm sure her groom filled in that need of hers, in that aspect."
He finally responds, his words sounding more colder than he had wanted it to be. If there wasn't any tension between Shoto and your parents, he may have built up a wall of tension with your parents now. Especially with how detached his tone seemed to have sounded, almost like it was a topic he didn't want to talk about.
"Ah— Right…"
Your mother immediately responded back, her tone sounding slightly apologetic. The silence that sat between all of you within the car now seemed to have become uncomfortable once more. The effort it had taken for Shoto to get accustomed to the awkward silence, had now became futile—with a simple question, which seemed to rub him off in the slightest wrong way.
Thankfully, the remaining time Shoto had to spend with your parents on the car didn't last much longer, for he had soon parked at a parking space near the venue.
Once Shoto stepped out of the car, he moved to open the door for your parents. An action that he used to do for your parents—hoping to continually earn their favour and respect—has now became a mere action out of politeness and consideration. In return, Shoto received a simple nod of gratitude from your father and a wry smile that seemed to have crawled its way back onto your mother's lips again.
Closing the door behind your parents, Shoto watched as they walked towards the wedding venue, their backs turned towards him. The small smile he had been unconsciously holding across his lips finally drops, before he tore his gaze away from your parents' disappearing figure towards the cathedral.
He hadn't realised this before while driving, but he found this exact cathedral rather familiar. Pausing close to the steps leading up to the main entrance, Shoto's eyes drifted towards a bush that was filled with peonies.
"Those are my favourite flowers. When I plan my wedding, I hope that I can decorate the hall with small bouquets of peonies."
Your voice suddenly echoed in his head. For a moment, he had thought you were right next to him, speaking with a warm smile on your lips. But as he turned to search for your figure, it only brought him back to reality—that he was standing before the steps leading up to your wedding venue.
Then, he remembered when you had said those exact words which he had came to his mind. It was during both your patrol duties, where the two of you were working together for.
If he remembered correctly, it was this exact cathedral that the both of you had walked by that started the conversation of your dream wedding. Shoto remembered the gaze you bore as you spoke then, eyes brimming with pure elation, to the point it seemed like it was reflecting a sky full of stars.
As Shoto recalls your expression and tone, he couldn't help but feel a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. A thought that was similar to what he had spoken aloud to you then, in response to your words, came to his mind—you seemed like a little kid describing their favourite toys.
Now, you were doing exactly what you had dreamed of. Shoto didn't even have to step into the wedding hall to imagine how the venue looked like. He knew that if you somehow found a way to hold your wedding at the exact cathedral you wanted, him stepping into the hall and realising it was decorated by different bundles of peonies wouldn't be too far off from reality either.
You would somehow always find a way to make things go according to your plan, even when you would panic halfway through the procedure. He had no doubt that you'd nail all the details about your dream wedding, exactly down to even the smallest things you had talked about, hoping they'd come alive someday.
If anything, Shoto would only worry whether if by the end of your wedding, would you truly be satisfied and happy with the outcome? He had seen the amount of times you pulled off a plan, exactly as you had imagined it to turn out, but at the end of it all you could go on insisting something was missing from it all.
You were never one who was easily pleased. If you truly were that easy to please, perhaps the both of you would've never broken up. After all, to Shoto there never seemed to be anything deeply wrong about the both of your relationship.
It was only that somedays didn't work out as well as others. The time y'all spent was easily cut short, especially since both of you were pro-heros. On certain date nights outside, you'd run into fans who want both you and Shoto's autographs and pictures. But other than that, the both of you functioned like how any other couple would.
Yet, that was enough problems for you to find dissatisfaction in the relationship both of you shared. You had claimed you were too tired to constantly pretend those days were nothing, or that two pro-heros couldn't make things work, and even how the both of you were too busy for one another.
Initially, Shoto tried to brush away those complaints of yours, seeing them as in-the-moment frustrations that you wanted to get off your head. However, along the way, he realised that it was because you had made up your mind on something—that you could no longer imagine a future with him inside it.
Cheers started erupting from the crowd, pulling Shoto away from his thoughts once more. He was now sitted on those wooden benches, commonly seen in a cathedral, among the people you and your groom had invited to the wedding.
He was witnessing your wedding ceremony spin into action, and he could only hope for himself to stop reflecting back on past memories. After all, as he watched you walk down the aisle, with a bright smile that seemed to cover half of your face, he could tell whatever happened between you and him were simply events of the past.
You were now anticipating towards a new found future with the groom who stood before you, waiting for you with a similar look of joy. There wasn't even a look of doubt on your face, as the both of you exchanged vows, in comparison to the expression you wore on your face everytime you confronted him with new frustrations regarding both your relationship.
"Congratulations on your wedding, Yn."
Shoto found himself mumbling, the words spilling out of his lips as a smile slowly forming across his face. As the words left his mouth, the feeling of the collar of his blouse tightly squeezing his neck seemed to fade away gradually as well.
It was only then, Shoto realised that perhaps all along, his unresolved emotions towards the ending of you and his relationship had been silently suffocating him all along.
While, it was disappointing to know he couldn't be the groom who stood by your side to form that joy on your face, that responsibility to make you happy no longer lied on him.
Someone new, that you now call love, will fill those shoes for him. To accomplish whatever new dream you behold, that would make your eyes sparkle like a million stars, together with you. To love you in a way that would make you the happiest wife possible. And to form new and memorable memories with you, memories that you never forget to smile when thinking back upon.
All while, Shoto starts to learn how to love you, in a different way. Even if it was in a manner that his past self would never imagine was possible.
a/n: my first mha fic!! yay!! (pls cut me some slack if I wrote ooc...) divider quotes from your favourite flowers by MICO (because this fic was lowk inspired by it) I actually didn't expect this fic to be 4k ish words long but some writing monster took over my brain and I just KEPT writing (sorry shoto I didn't mean to write 4k words about your suffering...)
CONTXT ; as soon as your eyes catch a glimpse of this beautiful blonde stranger, you knew that you had fallen. if he sits at the same tea table as you, does that mean you score a chance into his heart?
CW ; sfw, ooc (probably), lowk love at first sight (or at least for reader), open ending, reader has a thing for good looking man, wc: 4.2k
The sun was close to setting, the sky dawning on the new look of blue and light purple hues—signalling the fall of evening. You sat underneath the autumn tree, enjoying your usual favourite—pu'erh—a fermented tea with a mild yet aromatic taste.
The slight rustle of the wind, the sound of light chatters in the background and lastly, the faint aroma coming from your teacup that filled your nostrils—they filled your senses. Everything about this evening seemed like a dream. A dream you never wanted to get out of.
Even if your job wasn't hard, it was too boring to stay constantly cooped in the mini bookstore that you helped out yet. The only time things got interesting was when regulars visited the store, filling the place with loud cheerful chatters. Other than that, you would usually busy yourself with a book in the bookstore.
Your manager had warned you not to read the books for sale, saying it would make the books no longer in their fresh and new condition, but you still did either way. After all, there was nothing much to do when there wasn't anyone in the store. The only other thing you could do was gaze out to the streets of Xianzhou, watching passerbys.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps shuffling towards your table jolted you out of your thoughts. Lifting your head, you are greeted by the sight of a strange yet intriguing man getting closer to your table.
He seemed to carry this distinguished aura with him. From the steps he took to even his appearance, he was definitely no commoner. After all, you hadn't seen a single person from Xianzhou who bore such long blonde hair and stunning emerald eyes. Even without that huge coffin he carried on his back, he would have stood out among the crowd.
He places a hand on the surface of the table you were sitted gently, causing your breath to catch slightly in your throat. For a moment, you could feel your heart skip a beat, as though he had placed a hand over yours instead of the table.
God. Why are you getting so nervous over the thought of him getting closer? You wondered silently, swallowing as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Very carefully, you lifted your gaze to meet his, only to quickly look away before you could take another good look at his emerald green eyes.
"Sorry to bother you. Is this seat occupied?"
He suddenly spoke up, the gentle notes of his voice causing your heart to stutter once again. There was an unmistakable formal mannerism in his choice of words, something that seemed to suit his appearance a lot more than you had expected.
"No—! You can have it!"
You quickly perked up, before he could possibly change his mind—if he was even considering to. For who knows what reason, you also shift your teacup further to your side of the table, even though it wouldn't bother him at all.
Anyone who was observing your movements would definitely be able to pick up how nervous you were behaving. From the way you slowly lifted up your teacup, taking small awkward sips from it, before placing it back down. Even the way you constantly reached up to push strands of hair behind your ear, although they were barely obstructing your view.
You were being way too nervous. All because a strange yet captivating man was sitting right across you, minding his own business.
Maybe you could make small talk. Anything to distract yourself from being conscious about your actions or behaviour before him. You thought silently, before clearing your throat—just once, in hopes of getting his attention.
Fortunately, it was a success. You watch as he lifted his head from gazing at the menu, his eyes immediately laid on yours. Before your brain could blank out from the way he was looking at you, the words spilled out of your mouth, nearly overlapping one another.
"Do you usually drink tea?"
Your question seemed to cause him to blink slightly, a small look of confusion spelt across his facial features. Your heart was once again throbbing with anxiety, making the thoughts in your head swirl.
You might've screwed up. That was the stupidest question you could ask a stranger you just met at a tea shop, just because they were sitting opposite you on the same table. He didn't even seem merely interested in holding a conversation with you.
Yet, you just had to bother him with the stupidest question one could ask.
"I mean-"
You start, trying to recollect your composure and urge the thoughts in your head to stop swirling. You had to find a way to further explain yourself now, so that you wouldn't look like a complete fool in front of him.
However, before you could even start, you heard a small laugh escape his lips. The swirling mess in your head paused temporarily, as you lift your head to look at him. He had one hand capped over his mouth, his fingers slightly covering the slight tilt of his lips. Yet, you could still spy the small lifted corner of his mouth that peeked out from behind his hand.
"Would you like to recommend me something to drink from here?"
He asked shortly, his eyebrows slightly lifted as he gazed at you. You could feel relief fill you, the cloud of panic that had formed in your head before starting to clear up. He had saved you from that awkward interaction!
"Ah yes! I would!"
You respond immediately, a smile immediately brought to your face at his suggestion. You let yourself scoot closer to where he was sitting, so that you could share a menu with him, before you continued happily,
"Do you usually prefer a stronger taste profile for your tea? Or a more mild one?"
He seemed to consider your question seriously for a moment, causing you to smile slightly. You stared fondly at him for a moment, watching as his brows creased slightly in concentration, before he finally spoke up,
"A milder one."
You clap your hands together, as soon as you heard his words. An excited grin replaced the small smile you had previously, causing him to lift his eyebrows slightly in mild curiosity. You probably looked silly right now, though you couldn't care less. Not when the realisation that he shared a similar tea preference as you was making it impossible for you to contain your joy.
"Oh that's great! I prefer my teas that way too! You're in luck, because I have amazing tea recommendations when it comes to milder teas."
You boast slightly, flipping through the menu excitedly. You had each page of the menu memorised, due to how frequent you had visited this tea shop. After all, it was close to the bookshop you worked at, making it the place you would go during breaks or after shifts.
Pointing to an image of a teacup filled to the brim with a light yellow liquid on the top left of the menu, you continue excitedly,
"This is one of the classic mild teas everyone has probably had a taste of before. It's the chinese green tea. If you're looking for a soft and mellow taste, this would be good."
Before he could even take a better glance at what you were pointing at, you quickly point at another image of a similar teacup, but this time filled to the brim with a different liquid. It seemed to have a darker shade of yellow, close to brown.
"This is another classic option for customers here too. It's the oolong tea. A lot of people enjoy the slightly sweet taste it gives off. Plus, it's easier to taste it's fragrance."
As soon as you finish your sentence, you lift your head to look at him once again. The corners of your mouth remained lifted as you watch him study the menu before the both of you. He seemed to be considering the two options you had given him deeply, his eyes darting between the two visuals with careful consideration in his gaze.
A part of you almost audibly whispered the admiration you had towards how seriously he seemed to treat simple things like this. Thankfully, you held your tongue back in time, as you look away slightly in embarrassment. You let your gaze drift off to other customers in the teashop, watching silently as they enjoy their tea.
"I think I'll get the chinese green tea."
He said finally, after a beat of silence, causing you to turn your head back to immediately meet his gaze. You feel your eyes blink once in surprise, not expecting him to be looking at you as he made his choice. You had expected him to be still looking at the menu, or maybe in the middle of lifting his head slowly to gaze back at you.
But not already looking at you.
Before you could get yourself lost in his gaze once again, you shoot your hand up immediately into the air—high enough to catch the attention of any waiter who worked in the teashop.
Soon enough, the sound of heels could be heard heading straight towards your table.
"How can I help you, miss?"
The waitress starts. It was a foxian, who seemed to be in her middle 20s. This wasn't the first time you had seen her before. She had worked here for quite a while, always wearing the same attire and small polite smile whenever she served her customers. It was a smile that you learnt to realise was professional, not something that truly reflected her feelings.
You had learnt this before when you seen her arguing with the manager of the teashop, possibly complaining and comparing her pay rate with other waiters in the teashop. Yet, the moment she was called on by another customer, she managed to switch the frown and annoyed crease between her brows into a polite smile.
That switch up caused slight shivers to be sent down your spine. In that moment, you prayed that she would get that pay raise she had been fighting for as well. After all, someone this professional had to be deserving of a good salary.
"Could I get a cup of chinese green tea, please?"
You start, returning her polite smile with a smile of yours. It was something you often did, out of courtesy—or maybe even something trained out from your mother. As a child raised in the chinese household, you were taught since young to return the same amount of politeness a waiter gave you.
Which meant that if the waiter treated you rudely, it wouldn't be expected of you to remain friendly as well. Though, you never had the guts to be rude to a waiter, especially since these were the people who were preparing the food you would consume.
"Of course. I'll get it for you soon."
The waitress responds back, the smile remaining on her face, at least until she turned her back on you. You catch yourself imagining the smile on her lips dropping to a straight emotionless expression, as she walked to the back of the kitchen. Even if you couldn't quite tell what emotion she was making on her face, your imagination seemed to fill in the blanks for you—causing you to stifle a small laugh.
The small shake in your shoulders from your stifled laughter seemed to cause the blonde stranger's gaze to shift slightly towards you, possibly out of curiosity. For a moment, you find yourself holding your breath—almost subconsciously, as you catch his gaze once more.
"Sorry— I come here pretty often and believe it or not, that waitress changes her facial expressions really quickly."
You start, gesturing towards the waitress that had long disappeared into the back of the kitchen. Unknowingly, a small smile forms across your lips as you watch his gaze follow the gesture of your hand. There was a slight glint of curiosity which seemed to follow his stare, making you feel the need to elaborate further.
"The last time I came here, she was arguing at the back with the manager. Though, in the next second, I caught her smiling and attending to a customer professionally."
In response to your words, he simply gave you a small nod. You watch, slightly disappointed at his lack of response, as the faint glimmer of curiosity seemed to have faded from his gaze. Perhaps his queries were answered. Or maybe, he wasn't even interested to hear about your elaboration in the first place. You had probably given him extraneous details he wasn't asking for.
You could feel the initial anticipation you had within you—the hopes of wanting to further knowing him and him actually being interested in you—slowly losing strength. Initially, you had held out hope that he was open to conversing with you. After all, the initiatives he took thus far seemed to say so.
He had allowed you to recommend a cup of tea. He had chose to sit at your table, out of all tables. Yet, right now, you were starting to second guess if you were simply holding out too much hope for a stranger.
A stranger you barely knew, but found interest in. After all, who wouldn't? He had such beautiful long blonde hair—one that would've caught any locals attention from afar. It was the kind that glimmered under the afternoon sun, almost similar to the breathtaking sight of sunlight reflecting against the lake surfaces.
But, he was also a stranger that probably held out his reservations towards you. The deafening silence that was starting to build up between the both of you, was starting to make this realisation even clearer to you. Even the proximity you shared with him from sitting next to him, wasn't making anything better. Whoever had once said that intimacy closes the distance between two people had probably lied.
Finishing the last drop of your tea, you start thinking of a polite way to excuse yourself from this table. It was better to take your leave now, then to continue bearing through the awkward silence—a silence that you thought you could break.
After all, maybe he wanted you to leave this table soon as well. He probably only shared a table with you, simply because it was nearest to the shop entrance. Or maybe, it was just the first one he had laid eyes on.
Nothing too special.
Just as you have parted open your lips to speak, with the perfect excuse on the tip of your tongue now, he suddenly spoke up. For a moment, you wondered if your ears were playing tricks on you. Something made up from the final pieces of hope you were holding out in your heart.
There was no mistaking it though. It was his voice. A gentle and calm voice, paired with an eloquent way of speaking.
"Sorry, if you don't mind, could I treat that wound you have on your hand?"
As his words register in your head, you take a slow pause, your gaze drifting from his face to the wound that was on your hand. It was a small paper cut wound, one that you had accidentally inflicted upon yourself just now, during work.
It was also the wound that had made you decide to take a quick tea break, hoping to relieve your brain from constantly being overwhelmed by different thoughts. After all, if not for the fact that your brain was distracted, you wouldn't have quickly slid your hand across the book edges, causing the paper to cut your hand.
"It doesn't seem like you disinfected the wound yet."
It was just as he had said, you hadn't disinfected the wound yet. You had thought it was a simple minor cut, even though it hurts, it was probably minor enough to be ignored. Yet, even such a minor cut caught his attention.
"I didn't think it was necessary."
You responded simply, a lingering tone of stubborness in your voice, as you held out your hand for him. You can't help but tense up slightly, as you feel his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. Even his touch resembled the way he carried himself—gentle, calm and dignified.
He was basically the opposite of you. You were clearly jittery and careless, considering you got yourself a paper cut by accident, in the first place. Even right now, as he drew his face close to your wound to inspect it closer, your heartbeat can't help but fall into an obvious mess. It was hard to remain unflustered when you could feel his soft and warm breath slightly brushing against the skin of your hand each time he exhaled.
"This might hurt slightly."
He says softly, before whipping out a tube of ointment. Slowly, he squeezed a little of the ointment onto your wound, before spreading it gently across your skin with his index finger.
You could feel a slight sting against your wound as the ointment came into contact with your wound. Yet, your desire to not be seen weak towards pain in front of him, caused you to simply grit your teeth silently and hold back from wincing.
Even still, you could feel his touch on your wound soften slightly, as though he could sense the slight pain you were holding back from showing. Looking away, you had hoped to hide the small wave of heat that was hitting your cheeks from his gaze. You can't deny it, his small act of consideration and attention to detail, was enough to make your heart stutter once more.
With your unwounded hand cupping one side of your cheek, you decide to turn back towards him. As you turn around, he had just finished applying anointment to your wound. Keeping a gentle, but firm grasp on your wrist still, he pulled out a clean linen cloth next.
Carefully, he gently lifts your hand, measuring the amount of cloth needed to properly dress your wound. He tears off a small piece of the cloth, before finally spreading the remaining underneath your palm and laying your hand back down.
"I'll dress your wound next. You can leave the dressing on for not more than a few hours."
He says, removing his grasps around your wrist as he takes the small piece of cloth that he had just torn. Before you could even wrap your head around what he was doing, he held the torn piece of cloth over your empty tea cup and started pouring his cup of chinese green tea over it, until the cloth was soaked with chinese green tea.
The realisation dawned on you, as he finally laid the soaked piece of cloth over your wound, before finally dressing your wound. He was making a tea dressing for your wound.
This probably made him being an outworldly stranger more obvious to you, especially since using tea to dress wounds wasn't a common method among medical practioners in the Xianzhou Luofu. While, it was definitely a recognised method for dressing wounds, the use of tea leaves was more commonly used for food than medical purposes.
"If you don't mind me asking, where do you come from?"
The question spills out of your lips, before you can stop yourself. For a moment, you watch as his movements come to still. He seems to freeze, albeit for a quick second, before he finishes the final touches on treating your wound. If you blinked in that second, perhaps you wouldn't even have noticed his stillness.
"That's not something you should concern yourself with. After all, this is probably the last time you'll ever meet me."
He finally responds, pulling his hand away from your wrist as he meets your gaze. His gaze seemed to lack warmth in them, in comparison to his touch against your wound previously. If it wasn't clear enough before that he had no intention of closing the distance between the two of you previously, his gaze now spoke what was unsaid.
With that, he straightened his back and started packing up his items. You could tell he wasn't expecting you to give him a response, especially since he was so adamant about drawing a line between the both of you. You were nothing more than a stranger with a wound he wanted to treat.
"If you don't mind, I'll be taking my leave now."
With that, he stood up, taking with him everything but the cup of tea you had recommended to him. Also the cup of tea he had used, perhaps, solely for the purpose of treating your wound.
If he had left you simply with that sentence, you probably would've not made your next move. Yet, before he turns to leave, he meets your gaze—just one more time—and starts,
"You can finish my cup of tea, if you like. I made sure to leave it in a condition that is still safe to consume."
Blinking slightly, you drop your gaze towards his cup of tea. Perhaps, this could be just your wishful thinking, but he had asked for your recommendation, so that the cup of tea he had left was something you still enjoyed. Perhaps, it was just your wishful thinking, but he hadn't dipped the torn piece of cloth into his cup of tea, just so that you could still drink it.
What a waste.
You thought, taking his cup of tea and downing the liquid in his cup in one gulp.
What a waste. He didn't even get to taste good tea.
You thought, standing up as you walked briskly towards the counter. Quickly, you asked for a tin of chinese green tea leaves and bought it, before you could hesitate once more.
What a waste. He was so sure he would never meet you again, he had never intended to form any relations with you.
You thought, grabbing nothing with you but the tin of tea leaves you had just bought, as you ran after his disappearing figure. He had already walked quite a distance, towards the dock, while you were getting those tea leaves.
But, in that moment, the thought of not being able to leave him one final gift, if this was truly your last time meeting him, overshadowed your fear of never being able to catch up to him. Your brain could barely process what you were doing, or where you were moving towards, as your legs kept moving to fulfill the only purpose that was on your mind now—to pass him the tea leaves, as a parting gift.
Finally, you had caught up to his figure. He had his back turned towards you before, yet the moment your footsteps slowed to a pause before him, he happened to turn and meet your gaze. It was probably the sound of your approaching footsteps that had instinctively made him turn to greet you.
Your breaths came out in heavy pants, your cheeks were slightly flushed—in this situation, you would have wanted to take a second to catch your breath before speaking.
Yet, you didn't.
Before you can hesitate once more, the words come spilling out of your lips and your hands stretch out to pass him the tin of tea leaves.
"Take this. You can take it as a parting gift. A form of thank you."
He seemed to be taken aback by your actions. You could tell. From the slightly widened eyes, his body stilling slightly before he finally took the tin from your hands. It was enough to tell you that he wasn't expecting you to run after him or gift him something in return.
Perhaps, it was more of a selfish move on your part than a gift filled with your gratitude. After all, there was no denying that a part of you wished that he would use those tea leaves remembering the encounter you both shared.
He smiles slightly, after a beat of silence. You definitely felt a wave of warmth fill your stomach as you watch the smile spread across his lips. You can't help but feel the corners of your lips tug up as well, returning his smile with another one of yours—one that was filled with more warmth and endearment than his.
"Thank you."
He says softly, nodding once in your direction before he turns and boards the starskiff that had just arrived by the dock. It was a simple word of thanksgiving, but you could tell there was a clear difference from the way he expressed it, compared to his words before.
The formality in his tone seemed to have disappeared. His voice had sounded a lot more warmer than you had remembered it to be. Because of this, even as you watched his starskiff disappear into a far distance, you found yourself leaving the dock with overflowing joy that you hadn't felt in a long time.
A certain amount of joy that was enough to make you feel that the mudanity you had been feeling from your regular schedule, didn't seem to matter as much anymore.
A/N ; yay we're finally done with this fic (it has been sitting in my drafts since 27 august 2025) so yes, I've been slowly updating it bit by bit until now LOLS (it's finally getting to meet public attention) lwk icl this might be a bad characterisation of luocha written purely on delusion & driven by the desire of having luocha surface back in hsr plot (im not accepting the fact that my guy is just reportedly thrown into prison...💔 #freeluocha) ANYWAYS hope y'all enjoyed this (if not, I'll just live laugh love...yay...!!)
AHH TARO I LUV UR NEW THEME ITS SO BEAUTIFUL (i luv shoto sm heheh) BUT UM i highkey didn’t realize it was you i thought you had another side blog and was rlly confused BUT YE I LUV IT SM <3
LMAOO HELP ME NEZU HSHSHHS yes it's me...hi🥹 but anyways THANK YOU SM (we love shoto🩵❤)
CONTXT ; as soon as your eyes catch a glimpse of this beautiful blonde stranger, you knew that you had fallen. if he sits at the same tea table as you, does that mean you score a chance into his heart?
CW ; sfw, ooc (probably), lowk love at first sight (or at least for reader), open ending, reader has a thing for good looking man, wc: 4.2k
The sun was close to setting, the sky dawning on the new look of blue and light purple hues—signalling the fall of evening. You sat underneath the autumn tree, enjoying your usual favourite—pu'erh—a fermented tea with a mild yet aromatic taste.
The slight rustle of the wind, the sound of light chatters in the background and lastly, the faint aroma coming from your teacup that filled your nostrils—they filled your senses. Everything about this evening seemed like a dream. A dream you never wanted to get out of.
Even if your job wasn't hard, it was too boring to stay constantly cooped in the mini bookstore that you helped out yet. The only time things got interesting was when regulars visited the store, filling the place with loud cheerful chatters. Other than that, you would usually busy yourself with a book in the bookstore.
Your manager had warned you not to read the books for sale, saying it would make the books no longer in their fresh and new condition, but you still did either way. After all, there was nothing much to do when there wasn't anyone in the store. The only other thing you could do was gaze out to the streets of Xianzhou, watching passerbys.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps shuffling towards your table jolted you out of your thoughts. Lifting your head, you are greeted by the sight of a strange yet intriguing man getting closer to your table.
He seemed to carry this distinguished aura with him. From the steps he took to even his appearance, he was definitely no commoner. After all, you hadn't seen a single person from Xianzhou who bore such long blonde hair and stunning emerald eyes. Even without that huge coffin he carried on his back, he would have stood out among the crowd.
He places a hand on the surface of the table you were sitted gently, causing your breath to catch slightly in your throat. For a moment, you could feel your heart skip a beat, as though he had placed a hand over yours instead of the table.
God. Why are you getting so nervous over the thought of him getting closer? You wondered silently, swallowing as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Very carefully, you lifted your gaze to meet his, only to quickly look away before you could take another good look at his emerald green eyes.
"Sorry to bother you. Is this seat occupied?"
He suddenly spoke up, the gentle notes of his voice causing your heart to stutter once again. There was an unmistakable formal mannerism in his choice of words, something that seemed to suit his appearance a lot more than you had expected.
"No—! You can have it!"
You quickly perked up, before he could possibly change his mind—if he was even considering to. For who knows what reason, you also shift your teacup further to your side of the table, even though it wouldn't bother him at all.
Anyone who was observing your movements would definitely be able to pick up how nervous you were behaving. From the way you slowly lifted up your teacup, taking small awkward sips from it, before placing it back down. Even the way you constantly reached up to push strands of hair behind your ear, although they were barely obstructing your view.
You were being way too nervous. All because a strange yet captivating man was sitting right across you, minding his own business.
Maybe you could make small talk. Anything to distract yourself from being conscious about your actions or behaviour before him. You thought silently, before clearing your throat—just once, in hopes of getting his attention.
Fortunately, it was a success. You watch as he lifted his head from gazing at the menu, his eyes immediately laid on yours. Before your brain could blank out from the way he was looking at you, the words spilled out of your mouth, nearly overlapping one another.
"Do you usually drink tea?"
Your question seemed to cause him to blink slightly, a small look of confusion spelt across his facial features. Your heart was once again throbbing with anxiety, making the thoughts in your head swirl.
You might've screwed up. That was the stupidest question you could ask a stranger you just met at a tea shop, just because they were sitting opposite you on the same table. He didn't even seem merely interested in holding a conversation with you.
Yet, you just had to bother him with the stupidest question one could ask.
"I mean-"
You start, trying to recollect your composure and urge the thoughts in your head to stop swirling. You had to find a way to further explain yourself now, so that you wouldn't look like a complete fool in front of him.
However, before you could even start, you heard a small laugh escape his lips. The swirling mess in your head paused temporarily, as you lift your head to look at him. He had one hand capped over his mouth, his fingers slightly covering the slight tilt of his lips. Yet, you could still spy the small lifted corner of his mouth that peeked out from behind his hand.
"Would you like to recommend me something to drink from here?"
He asked shortly, his eyebrows slightly lifted as he gazed at you. You could feel relief fill you, the cloud of panic that had formed in your head before starting to clear up. He had saved you from that awkward interaction!
"Ah yes! I would!"
You respond immediately, a smile immediately brought to your face at his suggestion. You let yourself scoot closer to where he was sitting, so that you could share a menu with him, before you continued happily,
"Do you usually prefer a stronger taste profile for your tea? Or a more mild one?"
He seemed to consider your question seriously for a moment, causing you to smile slightly. You stared fondly at him for a moment, watching as his brows creased slightly in concentration, before he finally spoke up,
"A milder one."
You clap your hands together, as soon as you heard his words. An excited grin replaced the small smile you had previously, causing him to lift his eyebrows slightly in mild curiosity. You probably looked silly right now, though you couldn't care less. Not when the realisation that he shared a similar tea preference as you was making it impossible for you to contain your joy.
"Oh that's great! I prefer my teas that way too! You're in luck, because I have amazing tea recommendations when it comes to milder teas."
You boast slightly, flipping through the menu excitedly. You had each page of the menu memorised, due to how frequent you had visited this tea shop. After all, it was close to the bookshop you worked at, making it the place you would go during breaks or after shifts.
Pointing to an image of a teacup filled to the brim with a light yellow liquid on the top left of the menu, you continue excitedly,
"This is one of the classic mild teas everyone has probably had a taste of before. It's the chinese green tea. If you're looking for a soft and mellow taste, this would be good."
Before he could even take a better glance at what you were pointing at, you quickly point at another image of a similar teacup, but this time filled to the brim with a different liquid. It seemed to have a darker shade of yellow, close to brown.
"This is another classic option for customers here too. It's the oolong tea. A lot of people enjoy the slightly sweet taste it gives off. Plus, it's easier to taste it's fragrance."
As soon as you finish your sentence, you lift your head to look at him once again. The corners of your mouth remained lifted as you watch him study the menu before the both of you. He seemed to be considering the two options you had given him deeply, his eyes darting between the two visuals with careful consideration in his gaze.
A part of you almost audibly whispered the admiration you had towards how seriously he seemed to treat simple things like this. Thankfully, you held your tongue back in time, as you look away slightly in embarrassment. You let your gaze drift off to other customers in the teashop, watching silently as they enjoy their tea.
"I think I'll get the chinese green tea."
He said finally, after a beat of silence, causing you to turn your head back to immediately meet his gaze. You feel your eyes blink once in surprise, not expecting him to be looking at you as he made his choice. You had expected him to be still looking at the menu, or maybe in the middle of lifting his head slowly to gaze back at you.
But not already looking at you.
Before you could get yourself lost in his gaze once again, you shoot your hand up immediately into the air—high enough to catch the attention of any waiter who worked in the teashop.
Soon enough, the sound of heels could be heard heading straight towards your table.
"How can I help you, miss?"
The waitress starts. It was a foxian, who seemed to be in her middle 20s. This wasn't the first time you had seen her before. She had worked here for quite a while, always wearing the same attire and small polite smile whenever she served her customers. It was a smile that you learnt to realise was professional, not something that truly reflected her feelings.
You had learnt this before when you seen her arguing with the manager of the teashop, possibly complaining and comparing her pay rate with other waiters in the teashop. Yet, the moment she was called on by another customer, she managed to switch the frown and annoyed crease between her brows into a polite smile.
That switch up caused slight shivers to be sent down your spine. In that moment, you prayed that she would get that pay raise she had been fighting for as well. After all, someone this professional had to be deserving of a good salary.
"Could I get a cup of chinese green tea, please?"
You start, returning her polite smile with a smile of yours. It was something you often did, out of courtesy—or maybe even something trained out from your mother. As a child raised in the chinese household, you were taught since young to return the same amount of politeness a waiter gave you.
Which meant that if the waiter treated you rudely, it wouldn't be expected of you to remain friendly as well. Though, you never had the guts to be rude to a waiter, especially since these were the people who were preparing the food you would consume.
"Of course. I'll get it for you soon."
The waitress responds back, the smile remaining on her face, at least until she turned her back on you. You catch yourself imagining the smile on her lips dropping to a straight emotionless expression, as she walked to the back of the kitchen. Even if you couldn't quite tell what emotion she was making on her face, your imagination seemed to fill in the blanks for you—causing you to stifle a small laugh.
The small shake in your shoulders from your stifled laughter seemed to cause the blonde stranger's gaze to shift slightly towards you, possibly out of curiosity. For a moment, you find yourself holding your breath—almost subconsciously, as you catch his gaze once more.
"Sorry— I come here pretty often and believe it or not, that waitress changes her facial expressions really quickly."
You start, gesturing towards the waitress that had long disappeared into the back of the kitchen. Unknowingly, a small smile forms across your lips as you watch his gaze follow the gesture of your hand. There was a slight glint of curiosity which seemed to follow his stare, making you feel the need to elaborate further.
"The last time I came here, she was arguing at the back with the manager. Though, in the next second, I caught her smiling and attending to a customer professionally."
In response to your words, he simply gave you a small nod. You watch, slightly disappointed at his lack of response, as the faint glimmer of curiosity seemed to have faded from his gaze. Perhaps his queries were answered. Or maybe, he wasn't even interested to hear about your elaboration in the first place. You had probably given him extraneous details he wasn't asking for.
You could feel the initial anticipation you had within you—the hopes of wanting to further knowing him and him actually being interested in you—slowly losing strength. Initially, you had held out hope that he was open to conversing with you. After all, the initiatives he took thus far seemed to say so.
He had allowed you to recommend a cup of tea. He had chose to sit at your table, out of all tables. Yet, right now, you were starting to second guess if you were simply holding out too much hope for a stranger.
A stranger you barely knew, but found interest in. After all, who wouldn't? He had such beautiful long blonde hair—one that would've caught any locals attention from afar. It was the kind that glimmered under the afternoon sun, almost similar to the breathtaking sight of sunlight reflecting against the lake surfaces.
But, he was also a stranger that probably held out his reservations towards you. The deafening silence that was starting to build up between the both of you, was starting to make this realisation even clearer to you. Even the proximity you shared with him from sitting next to him, wasn't making anything better. Whoever had once said that intimacy closes the distance between two people had probably lied.
Finishing the last drop of your tea, you start thinking of a polite way to excuse yourself from this table. It was better to take your leave now, then to continue bearing through the awkward silence—a silence that you thought you could break.
After all, maybe he wanted you to leave this table soon as well. He probably only shared a table with you, simply because it was nearest to the shop entrance. Or maybe, it was just the first one he had laid eyes on.
Nothing too special.
Just as you have parted open your lips to speak, with the perfect excuse on the tip of your tongue now, he suddenly spoke up. For a moment, you wondered if your ears were playing tricks on you. Something made up from the final pieces of hope you were holding out in your heart.
There was no mistaking it though. It was his voice. A gentle and calm voice, paired with an eloquent way of speaking.
"Sorry, if you don't mind, could I treat that wound you have on your hand?"
As his words register in your head, you take a slow pause, your gaze drifting from his face to the wound that was on your hand. It was a small paper cut wound, one that you had accidentally inflicted upon yourself just now, during work.
It was also the wound that had made you decide to take a quick tea break, hoping to relieve your brain from constantly being overwhelmed by different thoughts. After all, if not for the fact that your brain was distracted, you wouldn't have quickly slid your hand across the book edges, causing the paper to cut your hand.
"It doesn't seem like you disinfected the wound yet."
It was just as he had said, you hadn't disinfected the wound yet. You had thought it was a simple minor cut, even though it hurts, it was probably minor enough to be ignored. Yet, even such a minor cut caught his attention.
"I didn't think it was necessary."
You responded simply, a lingering tone of stubborness in your voice, as you held out your hand for him. You can't help but tense up slightly, as you feel his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. Even his touch resembled the way he carried himself—gentle, calm and dignified.
He was basically the opposite of you. You were clearly jittery and careless, considering you got yourself a paper cut by accident, in the first place. Even right now, as he drew his face close to your wound to inspect it closer, your heartbeat can't help but fall into an obvious mess. It was hard to remain unflustered when you could feel his soft and warm breath slightly brushing against the skin of your hand each time he exhaled.
"This might hurt slightly."
He says softly, before whipping out a tube of ointment. Slowly, he squeezed a little of the ointment onto your wound, before spreading it gently across your skin with his index finger.
You could feel a slight sting against your wound as the ointment came into contact with your wound. Yet, your desire to not be seen weak towards pain in front of him, caused you to simply grit your teeth silently and hold back from wincing.
Even still, you could feel his touch on your wound soften slightly, as though he could sense the slight pain you were holding back from showing. Looking away, you had hoped to hide the small wave of heat that was hitting your cheeks from his gaze. You can't deny it, his small act of consideration and attention to detail, was enough to make your heart stutter once more.
With your unwounded hand cupping one side of your cheek, you decide to turn back towards him. As you turn around, he had just finished applying anointment to your wound. Keeping a gentle, but firm grasp on your wrist still, he pulled out a clean linen cloth next.
Carefully, he gently lifts your hand, measuring the amount of cloth needed to properly dress your wound. He tears off a small piece of the cloth, before finally spreading the remaining underneath your palm and laying your hand back down.
"I'll dress your wound next. You can leave the dressing on for not more than a few hours."
He says, removing his grasps around your wrist as he takes the small piece of cloth that he had just torn. Before you could even wrap your head around what he was doing, he held the torn piece of cloth over your empty tea cup and started pouring his cup of chinese green tea over it, until the cloth was soaked with chinese green tea.
The realisation dawned on you, as he finally laid the soaked piece of cloth over your wound, before finally dressing your wound. He was making a tea dressing for your wound.
This probably made him being an outworldly stranger more obvious to you, especially since using tea to dress wounds wasn't a common method among medical practioners in the Xianzhou Luofu. While, it was definitely a recognised method for dressing wounds, the use of tea leaves was more commonly used for food than medical purposes.
"If you don't mind me asking, where do you come from?"
The question spills out of your lips, before you can stop yourself. For a moment, you watch as his movements come to still. He seems to freeze, albeit for a quick second, before he finishes the final touches on treating your wound. If you blinked in that second, perhaps you wouldn't even have noticed his stillness.
"That's not something you should concern yourself with. After all, this is probably the last time you'll ever meet me."
He finally responds, pulling his hand away from your wrist as he meets your gaze. His gaze seemed to lack warmth in them, in comparison to his touch against your wound previously. If it wasn't clear enough before that he had no intention of closing the distance between the two of you previously, his gaze now spoke what was unsaid.
With that, he straightened his back and started packing up his items. You could tell he wasn't expecting you to give him a response, especially since he was so adamant about drawing a line between the both of you. You were nothing more than a stranger with a wound he wanted to treat.
"If you don't mind, I'll be taking my leave now."
With that, he stood up, taking with him everything but the cup of tea you had recommended to him. Also the cup of tea he had used, perhaps, solely for the purpose of treating your wound.
If he had left you simply with that sentence, you probably would've not made your next move. Yet, before he turns to leave, he meets your gaze—just one more time—and starts,
"You can finish my cup of tea, if you like. I made sure to leave it in a condition that is still safe to consume."
Blinking slightly, you drop your gaze towards his cup of tea. Perhaps, this could be just your wishful thinking, but he had asked for your recommendation, so that the cup of tea he had left was something you still enjoyed. Perhaps, it was just your wishful thinking, but he hadn't dipped the torn piece of cloth into his cup of tea, just so that you could still drink it.
What a waste.
You thought, taking his cup of tea and downing the liquid in his cup in one gulp.
What a waste. He didn't even get to taste good tea.
You thought, standing up as you walked briskly towards the counter. Quickly, you asked for a tin of chinese green tea leaves and bought it, before you could hesitate once more.
What a waste. He was so sure he would never meet you again, he had never intended to form any relations with you.
You thought, grabbing nothing with you but the tin of tea leaves you had just bought, as you ran after his disappearing figure. He had already walked quite a distance, towards the dock, while you were getting those tea leaves.
But, in that moment, the thought of not being able to leave him one final gift, if this was truly your last time meeting him, overshadowed your fear of never being able to catch up to him. Your brain could barely process what you were doing, or where you were moving towards, as your legs kept moving to fulfill the only purpose that was on your mind now—to pass him the tea leaves, as a parting gift.
Finally, you had caught up to his figure. He had his back turned towards you before, yet the moment your footsteps slowed to a pause before him, he happened to turn and meet your gaze. It was probably the sound of your approaching footsteps that had instinctively made him turn to greet you.
Your breaths came out in heavy pants, your cheeks were slightly flushed—in this situation, you would have wanted to take a second to catch your breath before speaking.
Yet, you didn't.
Before you can hesitate once more, the words come spilling out of your lips and your hands stretch out to pass him the tin of tea leaves.
"Take this. You can take it as a parting gift. A form of thank you."
He seemed to be taken aback by your actions. You could tell. From the slightly widened eyes, his body stilling slightly before he finally took the tin from your hands. It was enough to tell you that he wasn't expecting you to run after him or gift him something in return.
Perhaps, it was more of a selfish move on your part than a gift filled with your gratitude. After all, there was no denying that a part of you wished that he would use those tea leaves remembering the encounter you both shared.
He smiles slightly, after a beat of silence. You definitely felt a wave of warmth fill your stomach as you watch the smile spread across his lips. You can't help but feel the corners of your lips tug up as well, returning his smile with another one of yours—one that was filled with more warmth and endearment than his.
"Thank you."
He says softly, nodding once in your direction before he turns and boards the starskiff that had just arrived by the dock. It was a simple word of thanksgiving, but you could tell there was a clear difference from the way he expressed it, compared to his words before.
The formality in his tone seemed to have disappeared. His voice had sounded a lot more warmer than you had remembered it to be. Because of this, even as you watched his starskiff disappear into a far distance, you found yourself leaving the dock with overflowing joy that you hadn't felt in a long time.
A certain amount of joy that was enough to make you feel that the mudanity you had been feeling from your regular schedule, didn't seem to matter as much anymore.
A/N ; yay we're finally done with this fic (it has been sitting in my drafts since 27 august 2025) so yes, I've been slowly updating it bit by bit until now LOLS (it's finally getting to meet public attention) lwk icl this might be a bad characterisation of luocha written purely on delusion & driven by the desire of having luocha surface back in hsr plot (im not accepting the fact that my guy is just reportedly thrown into prison...💔 #freeluocha) ANYWAYS hope y'all enjoyed this (if not, I'll just live laugh love...yay...!!)
yes hi guys i updated my theme do not fear its me
i shall be sleeping now tho... becos im tired... leaving my incomplete theme here... pls do not squint too far...
yes hi guys i updated my theme do not fear its me
i shall be sleeping now tho... becos im tired... leaving my incomplete theme here... pls do not squint too far...
Saw someone else in your asks. You read Firefly Wedding Taro??? 😭 I’m not as obsessed but I remember binge reading it when I first came across it.
HII LEAFY!! yes I read firefly wedding HSHHS🙂↕️ OMGOSH u shld def pick it up agn🙏🙏 the manga finished recently(?) not rly recently but like...SO this is def ur sign to get back to it!! (when u have the time to ofc🙂↕️✌)
HAI this is rlly random but uh I see u enjoy firefly wedding heh this is the first time I’ve seen someone who enjoys it so that made me happy :) I hope you have a good day/night!
OMGOSH HI !!! NICE TO MEET YOU HELLOOO I'm SOOO happy to meet another firefly wedding enjoyer here🥹 theres barely anyone I know who loves this manga...💔 BUT it's genuinely so peak it shld receive more love🩷🩷!! anyways hope u have a good day/night too YIPPEE <3
CONTXT. akaashi knows that he is no longer someone who is perfect for you. he can no longer provide for you, as you once hoped for. yet, a part of him finds it hard to come to terms with his decision.
CW. probably ooc, timeskip!au (manga editor akaashi), angst, wc: 1.7k
Akaashi Keiji knows he isn't the perfect partner for you. He has been feeling it repeatedly for a while now. It's only gotten stronger each time—the more time went on, the more stronger the realisation became.
If he was the cloudy sky that foretold incoming heavy rain, you were the ray of sunshine. You were a rare occurence that he should never have been standing alongside with, yet he was. The occurence of sun in a cloudy day was rare, because all the clouds would only cover up the bright rays of the sun.
And he feared he would do the same to you. He feared that all the negativity he was facing and going through in his life would only weigh you down, covering up all the spark that could have been brought out of you.
Although you never spoke up about it, he knew that he was probably wearing you down. How could he have not noticed it? He had been observing you, from the moment both of you got together to now.
Even the slightest change you made caused his heart to stutter with guilt. He knew he was the problem, the weight that was holding you down. If he continued to stay with you, the guilt that was slowly consuming his heart whole would only reveal his selfishness more and more.
He had kept you for far too long. Probably longer than he should have.
"Let's break up."
The words fell out of his lips, following with a loud swallow—one that echoed louder in his ears, in comparison to his softspoken words. Initially planning to not even glance up towards the direction of your face, afraid to make out the expression on your face, he ended up doing so anyway.
Considering that you hadn't said anything, he could've said it too softly, you needed him to repeat it once more—even if the next words from his shuddering lips would probably reveal the raw notes of vulnerability he had been trying to hide from you.
Every single bit of insecurity, weariness and guilt.
Yet, as soon as he met your gaze, he knew he didn't have to say another word. Your gaze held an emotion he had never wanted to see from you all this while, causing his glance to quickly turn into a flicker.
"What..?"
You had spoken up, an audible crack in your voice. Something that caused the strings of guilt to pull tighter around his heart. If he hadn't stayed with you for that long, maybe his disappearance would have been easier for you to accept.
Yet, now, because of his selfishness, his choice wouldn't immediately benefit you. It would've pained you first. But he believed, you would come around to understand.
This was all for the better. Or at least that was what he had been telling himself repeatedly, almost every minute or second. Especially during those times when he couldn't be there for you—like the perfect boyfriend would.
Before he sat down at the dinner table, his tie hung low from his unstraightened white blouse and messy collar. Work would leave him tired and heavy, far from feeling hunger. Though how could he resist eating? Especially when he would never fail to come home to a colourful spread of homecooked food wrapped in cling wrap laid out on the table for him. You worked your own 9 to 5, but you would never quit the habit of cooking for him a nutritious meal. For if not for your efforts, he would've leaned into curating an unhealthy lifestyle of cup noodles and skipping meals due to the nature of his job.
Before he tucked himself to bed, where you had already lay waiting for him. Except, he has showed up too late to catch you awake. You used to lay in bed, fighting against your heavy eyelids, just so that you could kiss him on the cheek before you fell asleep—something that had became a nightly ritual for the both of you, when you and Akaashi had just started dating. But slowly, it became more apparent that work would hold him back late, waiting for him was simply redundant.
Before he finished washing up, he would wake up to his toothbrush sitting on the sink, waiting for him. The toothpaste was no longer fresh, almost dried from the long hours of exposure to the air. But whenever he placed the bristles to his teeth, he would never fail to taste the sweet taste of toothpaste, almost a mimicry of the love you poured into even the simple act of preparing his toothbrush. This love was bound to stop pulling at his heartstrings in the way he loved though, for he slowly found himself regretting being unable to wake up with you—like any other loving couple would.
Every single sweet promise and whisper the two of you had made with one another, before finally tasting the true bittersweet life of a working couple living together, was slowly vanishing faster than dust.
His soft apologies about never being able to stay by your side after work was slowly becoming helpless guilt. Something that would only build up, with no way to stop it—until he fixed the root cause. He knew that your forced smiles which came along with the soft polite "it's okay" was just a facade to hide your disappointment.
Because today, when he finally took up the courage to ask his supervisor to leave work early so that he could surprise you at home and take you out on a final date that you would love, he saw a glimmer of joy in your eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time.
That was when he knew you hadn't shown real joy to him in a long time. All those times when he tried to convince himself that you were genuinely happy suddenly became futile in that moment, for he knew those were just his false positivity talking.
It was also in that moment, his head reminded him the reason why it was better to leave you. Even if he knew that you would cry and throw a fuss, just like right now.
"Keiji. Listen to me, you're not thinking straight."
Your words brought him back to the present. He could feel your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into the skin underneath his shirt fabric slightly.
That was when he realised your nails weren't short anymore. They had grown out, while he wasn't paying attention to your hands anymore. While nails grow out quickly, it still meant that he hadn't paid attention to you for a while now.
"Keiji."
You repeat once more, this time your words more firm. It was in that tone you had once told him about, smiling happily as you mentioned it ever so casually—"when I call you in this tone, just know I mean it so seriously."
Back then, he had never thought he would find himself coming to a day when he would hear you call him in such a tone. He never wanted to make the you, who was usually carefree and joyous become serious, especially towards him. If you were serious, it usually meant something grave or terrible had happened.
He never wanted to be your definition of terrible. Never.
"I know what I am doing."
He finally spoke, his words a lot more stable than he had expected. Especially when his heart was in a turmoil, right now. He could tell his heart was suffering. Suffering from realising if you actually stopped begging him now, he would become alone. Suffering from noticing all the fear and sadness you were feeling from his words. Suffering from this mere choice alone.
If not for his tone, perhaps he would've taken back the next few words that slipped out of his mouth. Yet, his choice became clearer from the sound and stable voice he held. He knew that his tone was his brain's way of indicating to his heart that this was a choice he would stand by right now. Even if it hurt emotionally, this choice was the most sound and logical decision he could make right now. One that would make up for all the feelings of remorse and guilt he had been feeling towards you.
"I should have done this a while ago. We were bound to fall apart a long time ago. We both know that."
He watched as you clenched your teeth together, almost as if you were rejecting that idea in your head. Perhaps, that flicker of hope he had of you realising this had came true—just in a smaller and softer manner, one that even you had hoped not to admit.
It also made him realise he was truly a selfish person. He hadn't even thought about how asking to break up with him would probably pain you as well. Yet, all along he had been hoping the thought of breaking up with him would surface in your mind as well, just so that he didn't have to be the one to end things.
So that the break up could end in a way that he could call "done by fate." There wasn't another way to turn it around, you had already asked for it, he was only being less selfish by accepting. Yet, even that outcome itself would have been selfish of him to hope for.
Every part of him which was about you was selfish. And that selfishness made his core belief that breaking up with you was the best choice he could make stronger.
If he continued holding onto you, he would be stealing you of joy. And he would be stealing himself the opportunity to become someone better. Someone without selfish desires, someone without guilt and someone without the burden of dragging you down with him.
"You're better without me, Yn."
Before he had even noticed it, his hands had moved on its own to pry yours away from his shoulders. Every part of his conscience had became accepting towards the impending end of this relationship.
It wasn't that the thought never came to his mind, until now. It was only he had rejected that thought, silently. Every part of him had done so initially, until it became only his heart…and finally, none of him could reject it.
You were perfect for somebody else. And that somebody else wasn't him. You could have been the one for him, but he could never have shaped himself to become the one for you.
A/N: did this instead of clearing all the drafts I had because we love impulsive ideas! i want to say this is inspired by the new olivia rodrigo album but im afraid it's not. I just heard a little more honest by joon and this thought coursed through my mind rather. BUT!! some songs from you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love works (for reader's perspective). btw im also sorry because lowk this could've probably been longer but I couldn't figure where to properly end it (and my schedule doesn't help) anyways, first akaashi related thing that i've written and it's angst! yay! (Im so worried I badly mischaracterised him in this one ngl)
CONTXT. akaashi knows that he is no longer someone who is perfect for you. he can no longer provide for you, as you once hoped for. yet, a part of him finds it hard to come to terms with his decision.
CW. probably ooc, timeskip!au (manga editor akaashi), angst, established relationship (akaashi & reader is dating + living together), wc: 1.7k
Akaashi Keiji knows he isn't the perfect partner for you. He has been feeling it repeatedly for a while now. It's only gotten stronger each time—the more time went on, the more stronger the realisation became.
If he was the cloudy sky that foretold incoming heavy rain, you were the ray of sunshine. You were a rare occurence that he should never have been standing alongside with, yet he was. The occurence of sun in a cloudy day was rare, because all the clouds would only cover up the bright rays of the sun.
And he feared he would do the same to you. He feared that all the negativity he was facing and going through in his life would only weigh you down, covering up all the spark that could have been brought out of you.
Although you never spoke up about it, he knew that he was probably wearing you down. How could he have not noticed it? He had been observing you, from the moment both of you got together to now.
Even the slightest change you made caused his heart to stutter with guilt. He knew he was the problem, the weight that was holding you down. If he continued to stay with you, the guilt that was slowly consuming his heart whole would only reveal his selfishness more and more.
He had kept you for far too long. Probably longer than he should have.
"Let's break up."
The words fell out of his lips, following with a loud swallow—one that echoed louder in his ears, in comparison to his softspoken words. Initially planning to not even glance up towards the direction of your face, afraid to make out the expression on your face, he ended up doing so anyway.
Considering that you hadn't said anything, he could've said it too softly, you needed him to repeat it once more—even if the next words from his shuddering lips would probably reveal the raw notes of vulnerability he had been trying to hide from you.
Every single bit of insecurity, weariness and guilt.
Yet, as soon as he met your gaze, he knew he didn't have to say another word. Your gaze held an emotion he had never wanted to see from you all this while, causing his glance to quickly turn into a flicker.
"What..?"
You had spoken up, an audible crack in your voice. Something that caused the strings of guilt to pull tighter around his heart. If he hadn't stayed with you for that long, maybe his disappearance would have been easier for you to accept.
Yet, now, because of his selfishness, his choice wouldn't immediately benefit you. It would've pained you first. But he believed, you would come around to understand.
This was all for the better. Or at least that was what he had been telling himself repeatedly, almost every minute or second. Especially during those times when he couldn't be there for you—like the perfect boyfriend would.
Before he sat down at the dinner table, his tie hung low from his unstraightened white blouse and messy collar. Work would leave him tired and heavy, far from feeling hunger. Though how could he resist eating? Especially when he would never fail to come home to a colourful spread of homecooked food wrapped in cling wrap laid out on the table for him. You worked your own 9 to 5, but you would never quit the habit of cooking for him a nutritious meal. For if not for your efforts, he would've leaned into curating an unhealthy lifestyle of cup noodles and skipping meals due to the nature of his job.
Before he tucked himself to bed, where you had already lay waiting for him. Except, he has showed up too late to catch you awake. You used to lay in bed, fighting against your heavy eyelids, just so that you could kiss him on the cheek before you fell asleep—something that had became a nightly ritual for the both of you, when you and Akaashi had just started dating. But slowly, it became more apparent that work would hold him back late, waiting for him was simply redundant.
Before he finished washing up, he would wake up to his toothbrush sitting on the sink, waiting for him. The toothpaste was no longer fresh, almost dried from the long hours of exposure to the air. But whenever he placed the bristles to his teeth, he would never fail to taste the sweet taste of toothpaste, almost a mimicry of the love you poured into even the simple act of preparing his toothbrush. This love was bound to stop pulling at his heartstrings in the way he loved though, for he slowly found himself regretting being unable to wake up with you—like any other loving couple would.
Every single sweet promise and whisper the two of you had made with one another, before finally tasting the true bittersweet life of a working couple living together, was slowly vanishing faster than dust.
His soft apologies about never being able to stay by your side after work was slowly becoming helpless guilt. Something that would only build up, with no way to stop it—until he fixed the root cause. He knew that your forced smiles which came along with the soft polite "it's okay" was just a facade to hide your disappointment.
Because today, when he finally took up the courage to ask his supervisor to leave work early so that he could surprise you at home and take you out on a final date that you would love, he saw a glimmer of joy in your eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time.
That was when he knew you hadn't shown real joy to him in a long time. All those times when he tried to convince himself that you were genuinely happy suddenly became futile in that moment, for he knew those were just his false positivity talking.
It was also in that moment, his head reminded him the reason why it was better to leave you. Even if he knew that you would cry and throw a fuss, just like right now.
"Keiji. Listen to me, you're not thinking straight."
Your words brought him back to the present. He could feel your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into the skin underneath his shirt fabric slightly.
That was when he realised your nails weren't short anymore. They had grown out, while he wasn't paying attention to your hands anymore. While nails grow out quickly, it still meant that he hadn't paid attention to you for a while now.
"Keiji."
You repeat once more, this time your words more firm. It was in that tone you had once told him about, smiling happily as you mentioned it ever so casually—"when I call you in this tone, just know I mean it so seriously."
Back then, he had never thought he would find himself coming to a day when he would hear you call him in such a tone. He never wanted to make the you, who was usually carefree and joyous become serious, especially towards him. If you were serious, it usually meant something grave or terrible had happened.
He never wanted to be your definition of terrible. Never.
"I know what I am doing."
He finally spoke, his words a lot more stable than he had expected. Especially when his heart was in a turmoil, right now. He could tell his heart was suffering. Suffering from realising if you actually stopped begging him now, he would become alone. Suffering from noticing all the fear and sadness you were feeling from his words. Suffering from this mere choice alone.
If not for his tone, perhaps he would've taken back the next few words that slipped out of his mouth. Yet, his choice became clearer from the sound and stable voice he held. He knew that his tone was his brain's way of indicating to his heart that this was a choice he would stand by right now. Even if it hurt emotionally, this choice was the most sound and logical decision he could make right now. One that would make up for all the feelings of remorse and guilt he had been feeling towards you.
"I should have done this a while ago. We were bound to fall apart a long time ago. We both know that."
He watched as you clenched your teeth together, almost as if you were rejecting that idea in your head. Perhaps, that flicker of hope he had of you realising this had came true—just in a smaller and softer manner, one that even you had hoped not to admit.
It also made him realise he was truly a selfish person. He hadn't even thought about how asking to break up with him would probably pain you as well. Yet, all along he had been hoping the thought of breaking up with him would surface in your mind as well, just so that he didn't have to be the one to end things.
So that the break up could end in a way that he could call "done by fate." There wasn't another way to turn it around, you had already asked for it, he was only being less selfish by accepting. Yet, even that outcome itself would have been selfish of him to hope for.
Every part of him which was about you was selfish. And that selfishness made his core belief that breaking up with you was the best choice he could make stronger.
If he continued holding onto you, he would be stealing you of joy. And he would be stealing himself the opportunity to become someone better. Someone without selfish desires, someone without guilt and someone without the burden of dragging you down with him.
"You're better without me, Yn."
Before he had even noticed it, his hands had moved on its own to pry yours away from his shoulders. Every part of his conscience had became accepting towards the impending end of this relationship.
It wasn't that the thought never came to his mind, until now. It was only he had rejected that thought, silently. Every part of him had done so initially, until it became only his heart…and finally, none of him could reject it.
You were perfect for somebody else. And that somebody else wasn't him. You could have been the one for him, but he could never have shaped himself to become the one for you.
A/N: did this instead of clearing all the drafts I had because we love impulsive ideas! i want to say this is inspired by the new olivia rodrigo album (I listened to the album a lot while writing this) but im afraid it's not. I just heard a little more honest by joon and this thought coursed through my mind rather. BUT!! some songs from you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love works (for reader's perspective). btw im also sorry because lowk this could've probably been longer but I couldn't figure where to properly end it (and my schedule doesn't help) anyways, first akaashi related thing that i've written and it's angst! yay! (Im so worried I badly mischaracterised him in this one ngl)
