I Hate Family Gathering So Much

I hate family gathering so much

Wanna Be My Cliché?

➺ Pairing: Ethan Landry x fem! reader

➺ Warnings: fluff and fluff, Ethan beign adorable and that's it.

➺ Word count: 993.

➺ Authors note: So this is my first post btw English is not my mother tongue, so I'm sorry if there are some mistakes. And I just did it cause the lovely @cerealzzz request this to me, hope you like it sweetheart.

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To say Ethan was nervous was an understatement, he swore he almost fainted when asked you out and hearing you say an excited "yes" made his stomach flutter with butterflies. His plan was simple: a night date having dinner at your favorite restaurante and after, walk you home with all his confession speech memorized in his head.

Ethan spent a lot of time trying the best outfits he had with the help of a also excited Chad with eyes full of pride who kept saying something like 'my shy boy had grown so much'. The curly boy checked himself in the mirror one last time before leave the dorm to get at your apartment and when he finally arrived all the butterflies starting to fly again with the thought of seeing you.

Ethan sent a message saying that he was in the lobby of the building waiting for you and when his eyes landed on your figure coming down the stairs the boy swallowed hard, how could someone be so beautiful? He didn't know where to keep his eyes as he wanted to record that scene in his mind in smallest details, your beauty was breathtaking to his eyes and he still didn't understand how such a perfect girl had agreed to go out with him.

"Do you like what you see?" the joking question made Ethan's cheeks flush and your smile made him even more delighted - if that was even possible.

"You look beautiful" Ethan murmured embarrassed, but the sparkle in his eyes reflected the purest sincerity and adoration, to him you were a work of art that could never be replicated, because you were unique.

The way to the restaurant was smooth, Ethan managed to calm his heartbeats and tried to talk to you without blushing every five minutes or stuttering. The meeting place was a simple but nice restaurant that you used to go with your friend group and for the first time it was just the two of you at the dinner table. It took a few minutes for Ethan to relax in his chair, but when the agitation left his body completely he found himself talking excitedly with you, and it was remarkable how all the boy's attention was on you, even if you were just telling him a silly story from your childhood, he listened to everything with a smile on his face.

After dinner Ethan insisted on paying for everything even though you had complained that you two could split the bill. As you left the restaurant the cold wind hit your bodies and without think twice the curly removed his coat when he noticed how shrunk you were hugging yourself to kept you warm. The brunette boy put the coat over your shoulders leaning down to adjust his large coat making sure you were protected and felt his legs weaken when he noticed your closeness, the way you had a smile adorning your beautiful lips and your bright eyes stared at him with the same adoration he had for you, there he found himself clinging to the hope that maybe you would reciprocate his feelings.

"Can we take a walk in the park?" your soft voice questioned him and he nodded immediately, he would agree to anything you wanted to do if it made a smile appear on your face.

Ethan was surprised by the softness of your hand that subtly held his hand intertwining your fingers as you pulled him to go to the park near the restaurant, you swore you heard the boy's breath hitch, but you just suppressed a litlle laughed finding him adorable. What Ethan didn't know was that you had fallen in love with the silly, clumsy and adorable boy who always blushed when he looked at you.

The park was empty due to the nighttime and also the cloudy weather didn't help matters, everyone was already waiting for the rain, but you were too distracted on your walk enjoying the view of the illuminated garden and the music playing somewhere nearby. When the first drops started to fall Ethan got despaired, the world was not cooperating with your first date, but he couldn't hold his smile when he saw you laughing feeling the rain getting you all wet.

"We should go, I don't want you to get a cold" The concern was evident in Ethan's voice and that only made your heart warm even though the freezing drops were slowly soaking you both.

"I have a better idea" With that simple sentence you approached the curly one with a tender smile, your arms rest around his neck bringing him closer and Ethan felt his heart leap.

Your fingers caressed the boy's damp curls, Ethan's hands found their way around your waist holding you close as if you were going to disappear in the next instant and when you leaned in against him leaving your lips just inches away he was sure the world had stopped.

"I've always wanted to live the cliché of being kissed in the rain so wanna be my cliché, Ethan?"

Nothing more needed to be said, his whole confession speech had been forgotten the moment your lips collided, Ethan could be inexperienced, but he kissed you so calmly enjoying every second, his lips moved slowly and his kiss overflowed the feelings he had hidden for long months, his hands caressed the small of your back with fondness. Your lips seemed like they were meant to be together, but the need for air made you apart from each other and Ethan smiled when he felt you give him a few more sweet pecks before pulling away.

"If you still had any doubt before, just to clarify I wanna be your cliché"

You smiled before pulling him into another kiss, it didn't matter if the world was falling apart in a rainstorm, at that moment all that mattered to Ethan was having you in his arms.

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Thanks for reading, bye bye💗

195 notes View Post

vitzi9

1 year ago

Thanks for reading!! I'm happy you like my stories that much! <3

Of course Ghostface wants you!

Gf!Ethan X GN!Reader

‼️CW/TW‼️: scar; manipulative E; yandere!Ethan

If there's others tell me.

Not satisfied with this one, like really not. I fell like this is pure shit. Sorry.

"I'm scared, E. I'm actually terrified."

Ethan tightens his hold around you and kiss your forehead. The both of you lying down on your bed after a movie and an argument with the group.

"Ghostface wants us, he probably wants me, too! I don't wanna die, not like this. And the group... They want to separate you from me. You're my only support. Don't leave."

"I won't leave you." He whispers in your ear. "I'd never leave you. Nobody'll ever separate you from me. We'll be together forever. I'll protect you from everything."

According to Mindy, Ethan was the main suspect. When the first attack occurred, he wasn't here. Everyone got hurt, and Anika...

A wave of sadness overcome you and you feel your eyes water again.

"Love..." Ethan whispers, concern in his voice.

His thumbs caress your cheek while a weak smile makes his way to your face. The first attack was so unexpected, nobody was ready.

You even got hurt, too. Ghostface plunged his knife into your thigh. The hit was directed towards Sam but, trying to push her away, you fell and got hurt instead of her. Badly. You'll never regret it though.

Ethan's hand goes down your shoulders, to your hips to finally settle on your thigh. Where your stitches remains. He does not put his palms directly on it since the scar is really fresh and not healed yet. But his hand was still close to it. He was feeling guilty ever since he saw you with Chad near the ambulance. He was blaming himself.

"It's not your fault, E." You say.

-Yes, it is. I should have been here.

-But you weren't. It's useless to think of what you could have done. I'm alive. That's what matters."

You feel water running down your head. A single drop. A tear. Ethan is crying. You take Ethan's hand which is on your thigh and move it to your hip. Your good leg sneak its way in between his. While the hurt one goes above them to frame him. But not too far in case you worsen your stitches by stretching it. Both of your arms go under his. Your chest is glued to his.

"It's my fault.

-It's Ghostface's fault. He's the one who attacked me. Not you."

Ethan stays silent. His hand caress your back slowly and you do the same for him. Both of you comforting each other in the almost religious silence of the room. Some cars could faintly be heard outside but you were not paying attention to them.

In this hug, you were protecting each other. You were telling him how much you loved him, how much you were grateful. While Ethan was telling you that everything would be fine. He was so worried... You were happy he had econ. You don't know what you would have done if you saw him get hurt. He's the only one who understands you. The last thing you want is to see him in danger.

"You're risking your live by staying with me, you know ?" You talk with a shaky voice. You were getting emotional again just by thinking of what could happen.

"I'm sure Ghostface won't hurt you. How could he kill someone as pretty as you?"

"That's not funny, E. I'm really scared.

"I know but I swear to you, from now on, I'll always be by your side."

You nod, burying your face in his chest. Your arms tighten around him. You feel him tense for a second. Worried, you look up at him to just see him smiling, all softened, at you. He was so pretty. How could the others ever think of him as a criminal ? He was the one massaging your back when you were tired. He was the one cuddling you when you were sad. He was the one litteraly apologizing to chairs when he bumped into them. He was the one crying watching romantics movies ! How could he kill someone?

"Did I hurt you?" You ask.

-No, love. Why?" He whispers back.

You took time to respond, chilling in the pretty silence of the room where all you could hear were your two breath. It was hot but a nice hotness. A calming one. It made you sleepy, you who had sleep issue.

"Your body contracted when I touched you.

-It's nothing..."

Still worried, you move in the bed. Your back now facing him. He's whining, missing your body close already. You grab your phone and quicky return under the blanket. This time though, your head goes underneath. With the flashlight of your phone, you move up his shirt and look at where you touched moment prior. Ethan sighs.

"I told you it's nothing."

But you ignore him and go back to the surface. Meeting his accustomed yet loving gaze.

"Did your hurt yourself? You have a bruise on your hip."

He laughs nervously, as if embarrassed. His big hands takes a good hold of your hips before moving you up until you're face to face. He then hides his face in your neck. He loved doing that, manhandling you. You never understood why. He sighs once in the comfort of your body.

"I bumped into the corner of the table yesterday."

You had doubts.

"You're not hiding something from me, right ?"

But Ethan never doubted himself.

"What ? You think I'm Ghostface, too?" He said in a ironical tone, knowing damn well he won already.

You were not laughing. You would never dare doubt your boyfriend like that. The only reason you asked that was because you were scared he got into a fight or simply hurt himself bad. It happens, after all. Never would the thought he was a murderer even cross your mind. So you push him away from you a little to see his face. Not even a shadow of a smile on your face.

"Don't say that. Even for a joke. You know it makes me angry. I don't like them saying that. You're not Ghostface. I think I'd knew it well if you were a damn serial killer." You said, gritting your teeth, your hands clenching around his shirt.

-Well, I don't like them saying that either. Plus, they imply that you'd be stupid enough to be in a relationship with someone you barely know. But you're not stupid. And we know each other. You're the cleverest person in the damn world.

The subject changed and you didn't even notice.

-I am stupid sometimes, though. There is lot of things that I don't notice. Like when that guy was following me home. If it weren't for you I'd be dead.

-And that's why I'm here.

It was his duty, after all. To protect you.

-But Ghostface is not just a creepy guy in an alley. He's much more dangerous Ethan. And he wants me dead. He wants me.

-Of course he wants you my love, you're so pretty. Everyone want you.

You move away from his embrace and stare at him angrily. You had already told him not to joke like that and he was still doing it. Your eyes were swollen and your cheeks were dry. Contradictory with the long minutes you spent wetting them.

-Seriously Ethan, don't joke on that subject. It's making me uncomfortable. Anika is dead because of that guy. I don't want to laugh.

You cringed internally mentioning your friend. Fuck, she wasn't even related to the group that much. She was new, like Ethan. Why was she targeted ?

-I'm joking on it because I know nothing will happen to you. You're safe with me." He was smiling. A reassuring smile. One you could pour all your trust in.

You could never stay mad at Ethan anyway. Less in a situation like this. You needed support. And your friends didn't want him around. You only had him to dry your tears.

"I don't want you to get hurt." You said, entering back your safe place: his arms.

"I already told you. I won't. I'm staying here until you are safe.

-And the group? Chad, Mindy, Sam and Tara ? What about them?

-I'm sure they'll be fine. Even if they threw you out of their house...

-They didn't throw me out of the house, Ethan. I know you don't like them but they're my friends. They're scared too, you have to understand that.

-Okay, I understand. But if I wasn't here, you would have been all alone. They shouldn't have kicked you out in a situation like this."

You found nothing to answer this time. Because it was true. If he wasn't here, you'd be alone. They didn't kick you out, you left with Ethan because you were angry with their accusatory remarks towards him. But still, no one tried to call you. To know how you were doing. To even check if you were alive. And realizing that, you start crying again. You were so sensitive since Anika's death. You were truly in edge. You were happy Ethan was here.

"I'm alone E. I'm so fucking alone..." You realized.

-No, of course not. You're not alone. I'm here. I'd die for you. I'll protect you. Nothing will ever harm you as long as I'm here. You'll always be seen with me by your side. I'll marry you one day. You know that?"

You weren't listening anymore. You were remembering every memory you had with your friends. Searching a way to come back to them, to regain their trust. You needed them, they were your dear friends. Maybe you were dramatic but you had every right to be. And Ethan was right. They had left you alone to die by Ghostface. They had left you knowing you were a target. But you loved them, you couldn't resent them.

"We'll live a life where you won't need anyone but me. And I won't need anyone but you. A house secluded where no one can come. After all of this is done, we'll be together."

Ethan was smiling. But you couldn't see it.

290 notes View Post

vitzi9

2 years ago

MUST BE LOVE ON THE BRAIN (2.9k)

todoroki shouto x reader

SYNOPSIS: todoroki is the face of next month's heroes weekly cover and this time he's pretty much naked. you're not sure how you feel about that.

WARNINGS: minors dni, fem reader, marks n hickeys on shou, lots of possession from reader, a lil insecure uncomfortable reader, established relationship, sweet todoroki, unprotected sex, dom reader but not heavily more switch for them both, yn takes photos of him

A/N: heyyyyy ive had this idea for years lmao so this is my attempt. i was gonna use it for bkg but i think it sounded sweeter for shou. also imagine a calvin klein-esque shoot okay. also title from rihanna because i am obsessed with love on the brain atm.

“i’ve got a surprise for you.”

the words sounded strange coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. odd. todoroki shouto wasn’t one for surprises. he didn’t like when people did them to him, as shown when midoriya set up a surprise birthday for him a few years back and he just stared blankly at everyone. he said to you later that night that he didn’t see the point of all the effort to be secretive when it would have been easier if he just knew. so surprises weren’t todoroki’s thing which by default meant he never really thought to do them with you. if he saw jewellery on patrol and thought of you, he’d buy it and give it to you when he’d see you next. same with musical and concert tickets so they were never technically surprises, just very thoughtful gifts.

but this being called a surprise (in his own words!) meant that he kept a secret from you for some time. went off and did something without telling you, to then one day tell you all in hopes of making you happy.

you rolled over in bed to face todoroki, a frown deep set on your features. it was the early morning, the first coherent sentence after his first mumbled, “good morning,” into your neck.

“you, todoroki shouto, have a surprise for me?” you ask and you feel his arms tighten around you.

you tilt your head up to meet his bicoloured pupils and you notice a little bit of insecurity waft behind them. his bottom lip juts out, a perfect pink because he has to be gorgeous even in the morning. his usual middle parting, separating his red and white locks is off centre but it only gives him a model off duty look rather than just waking up.

“yes, i do. is that really a surprise in itself?”

you nod, pressing a kiss to his closed mouth, “surprises aren’t really your thing.”

“it can be ours though. or yours,” he replies, pecking your forehead. it’s another new thing he does (along with surprises apparently), pecking your forehead.

you shrug, giving him a sly smile, “depends on how this one goes.”

todoroki’s comment gets cut off when the doorbell to his apartment sounds, even his phone going off to alert him someone’s at the door. he lets you roll out his arms to grab his phone and go into the intercom app, “you can leave the package there, i’ll come get it now.”

you stare at the hero with a hum as he slides out of bed in his tight black underwear, long lean body with a hand brushing through his hair. he stretches his arms to the ceiling like a cat, a moan rumbling from his lips. then he stares you down for a moment, yawning and squeezing your foot at the end of the bed. “this is for you.”

todoroki returns with a small smile, holding a medium sized brown box to his chest. you sit up slightly, a strap to your tank top falling down.

“what is it?” you ask, impatience pumping through you at being so close to whatever it is.

“patience babygirl,” he chuckles, climbing back into bed and giving it to you on top of the covers. he scratches his head, sinking back under the duvet, “now open it.”

you pick at the tape, before pulling the brown tape cleanly off, “can i just say how i have no clue what this is right now? none.”

todoroki says nothing, studying your reaction when you bend open the flaps and finally pull out the item.

you’re stunned to silence. the smile on your face dropping and he’s finding it difficult to read you.

in your hands are the first five copies of todoroki’s cover for next month's Heroes Weekly issue. he’s been on it before, a few times but all fully clothed. in this future copy, he’s laying only in tight white underwear, on top of bright white sheets, looking sexier than ever. looking exactly like he does beside you. purposely ruffled hair, so obviously close to his morning hair you’re wondering if the hair and makeup team have been looking through your windows. he’s got a smoulder, staring down the camera like the devil himself, tempting you to get into bed with him.

his body is impeccable, with long limbs, bread rolls for muscles and broad lean shoulders. a few scars litter his body which only feeds into the whole pro-hero sexiness with one large hand sprawled across his chest and another propping up his head, making his bicep bulge.

your shouto, now for the world to see.

“i can’t tell what you’re thinking?”

honestly, you don’t know what you’re thinking either. it’s a sexy image, he’s a beautiful man, so gorgeous and you’re partly thinking to frame one of the copies and blowing up the picture to get as a poster. another side of you is literally thinking of blowing up every printed image of your boyfriend like this because you share so much of him all the time, you want how he looks in the morning to be just for you. you trace your finger over the bold lettering at the front, ‘THE REAL SHOUTO’.

“you look great shou. i’m assuming you’ve got a whole spread,” you say, void of any emotion as you flick to the page of his interview and more photos of him laying back in a bed and even one of him brushing his teeth in an old fashioned bathroom.

he takes the box from your lap of the spare magazines and shoves it to the ground. he goes to take the copy out of your hands but you hold it to your chest, “wait, i’m not done!”

“you’re not being honest with me.”

for the first time since you’ve held the magazine, you look to your right to the man himself. you feel a hand on your heart tighten and twist. you don’t want to share him with the world.

“what? you look really good. your new workout routine is so good, makes you look really good and—,”

“you’ve said good three times. i don’t think you think it’s good,” todoroki bites, pulling the magazine out of your hands and trying to look at the images through your eyes. does he look bad? is this trying too hard? all his friends have done covers like this, showing even more skin and some sweaty and dirty. does he look stupid?

your eyes widen at the insecurity swimming behind his pupils. you speak truthfully, turning to face him with a hand on his cheek, “no shou, you really do look gorgeous. trust me. i think we should frame one for my bedroom.”

“mhm?” he’s not convinced.

“uh-huh. you look like after we have sex in the morning. i love it.”

your words are soft, full of thought and underlying meaning. your eyes are wide and shiny, focused back on the cover and todoroki is still really confused.

todoroki frowns, “so why are you being so… quiet and…frowny? you get more excited when i post an instagram of me slightly smiling.”

you glance away from your lover, your hand sliding off his cheek. “everyone sees you slightly smiling,” you mumble but it’s not enough because todoroki lays on his back and pulls you on top of him.

you straddle his waist as he grips your chin so you can’t look away. “and? talk to me.” he orders, pulling you close to his face, his lips brushing yours.

you groan aloud, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “it’s so embarrassing shou. but i promise i like the photos. a lot.”

he nods but he doesn’t let go, “tell me now baby.”

“you look like how you look when we have sex in the morning.”

“you said that already.”

you sigh, you point a finger between your body and his, “when we have sex together.”

“you are the only one i have sex with,” a smile pokes at his cheek but it quickly drops when you huff.

“you’re not listening, shou.”

“because you’re not explaining yourself.”

you know better than to assume todoroki will laugh or make fun of you. he is such a listener, but with you repeating the same thing, he’s finding it hard to read between the lines. a hand rests on your bare hip, his finger playing with the elastic of your underwear.

“everybody is going to see you, how i see you,” you whisper, shutting your eyes so you don’t have to look at him, “i like having you to myself. now all your fangirls are going to know. it’s even the title! the real shouto! only i should know that!”

you don’t notice your chest heaving or your fingers curling into fists. when you do open your eyes again, todoroki is in deep thought.

“i didn’t see it like that,” he glances at the cover beside him, then back to you. he picks it up before throwing it back down, “you know this isn’t really me, right? the real me is me with you. i even spoke about you in the article, how i love you and i’m doing the shoot as a surprise for you. the photos are for you.”

“i do really love the photos,” he rubs his thumb across your cheek to soothe you but you’re hot and embarrassed, “i know i’m being stupid but i’ll get over it.”

he shakes his head, locks of red and white falling over his eyes, “you’re not being stupid. i get it but this isn’t how i look after sex. i’m sweaty and tired and completely in love with you.”

you smile, shaking your head, “you’re so cute.”

he matches your smile, “i thought i was good. really good.”

you pinch his nipple, “i also said gorgeous. very sexy.”

you’re still shy and todoroki can barely recognise you. he’s not used to you thinking before you speak and wanting to disappear. he sneaks a hand up your camisole, “if you want me to tell them not to publish it i will. we can take new photos.”

you shake your head, “no it’s okay. if you’re really talking about me in the interview, everyone will know you’re mine. they can look but not touch.”

you bite down on your lip when todoroki grins slowly at you. he’s always been a fan of possession, a reason why he practically dedicated the cover and shoot to you. you are the real him, everything about him is you.

“show me, baby girl. show me how i’m yours,” he slurs tilting his head up for a kiss. you give it to him like you’d give him anything he asks for, a sweet kiss on his lips which so easily becomes a make out.

you become one, your tongue brushing against his, your fingers in his mussed hair. you lick around his mouth and he lets you take control, though his hands feel you up, one on your ass and another on your back to press you to him.

you pull away, brushing the spit connecting you both with your thumb and todoroki moans aloud. he tilts his hips so you can feel him hard on your ass. “i love you,” he murmurs, lips pouting for another kiss.

“i love you too, shou,” you whisper ducking down to suck on a spot on his neck. large hands roam your body, squeezing as you nibble down on his skin. you want to bruise him, mark him so everybody knows he’s yours.

you hear him gasp at the pain, “oh baby,” but he only eggs you on.

“and another, so everyone knows you belong to me,” you say, ducking down to mark another hickey on his neck. he stretches his neck like a purring kitten to give you more space and you’re not in control when you begin to hump his chest, begging for some friction.

when you finally pull away, your eyes become half-lidded at your work. “so pretty, shou,” you pout, two red splotches on his neck. then you eye his pectoral, right on the spot above his heart. or should you say your heart since he’s always saying it is.

you smooth a thumb across the skin before stuffing a hand in his boxers and pulling out his cock. his hips jolt and you laugh, “you’re needy, aren’t you?”

“fuck… yeah, i am. for you, always,” todoroki whimpers and you feel your stomach warm, your lower half fluttering.

you begin to pump him in your fist, your thumb rubbing the wet head of his cock. he hums, pleasure radiating through his body and he grunts when you take your teeth to his chest, working on a hickey on his heart.

you pull away with a twinkle in your eye, clearly proud of his markings and bruisings. he’s definitely not going to be able to hide the ones on his throat with his hero suit on. you shuffle up to rub your clothed clit over his cock and todoroki bends his knees to position himself firmly on his bed.

you lay a kiss on his chest, all the littered pink and red marks. “say you’re mine shou.” you brush your fingers over him and your boyfriend rumbles over your touch. you squeeze around his head, hand tight and warm and you feel his body vibrate.

“i’m all yours,” todoroki moans and when you kiss his chest you reply with the same three words.

“can i take a photo of you?” you run both hands down his chest, your back arched as you stimulate yourself.

todoroki is putty in your hands, looking up at you like you put stars in the sky. his lips are parted and he already feels like he’s been fucked even though he hasn’t been inside of you yet. he loves being owned by you, heck this magazine was him making it clear that he is and you letting him know that it’s something you think about makes his heart pound heavy in his chest.

“of course, love,” he stretches to get your phone before he even finishes speaking.

you snatch the device, switching to the camera app and taking photos similar to the ones in the magazine. different angle, sitting on top of him but these ones are so much more realistic, especially when you pull your panties to the side and slip him inside you.

you snap photos of his eyes shut, pupils rolling back and his tensed abs as he flicks his hips up for some friction. you think he’s beautiful, “so beautiful shou. you’re so sexy. you look like mine.”

he bites down on his lower lip, a rough growl rumbling from him. “mother… fucker,” he grunts and with one last photo, you throw your phone to the side to focus on him inside you.

you grind down back on him, thighs burning as you bounce and meet every one of his thrusts. “you take me so well baby. you’re perfect for me,” he trembles and you know he’s close because his fingers squeeze your ass cheeks to hold you in place.

without any warning, he flips you around onto your back. you gasp when your head hits the pillow and moan when he hits a completely different spot.

“oh fuck, oh fuck shou,” he rubs clockwise circles on your clit, his hair damp on his forehead.

“what do you need baby? talk to me,” he moves his hips faster and your mouth falls open in pleasure.

“a kiss, want you to kiss me when we—,” your arms circle around his neck and he sinks his tongue into your mouth to soak up all your moans.

together you reach the peak, your back arching under the weight of his body, thighs clenched around his waist and clinging onto him. todoroki groans down your throat, stamina insane as he keeps his thrusts steady throughout his orgasm. he separates from the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead against yours as he spills into you.

you’re both wet and warm, the movement of him inside you loud.

“oh fuck,” he trembles, slowly letting his body weight down to lay on top of you.

together you both breathe, collecting yourselves before you have to clean up.

“only you would think a collection of photos of you would be a gift for me,” you giggle and todoroki flicks his head up to glare at you.

“i would love to get a book of photos of you like that,” he mumbles softly.

“don’t get me wrong it is a gift. i want a poster of the front cover. framed signed too,” he rolls his eyes but he doesn’t disagree. he’ll definitely make it happen for you.

he reaches up on his forearms, caging you in to talk to you, “you sure you still don’t feel weird about it?”

you brush your hand over his throat, then down the mark on his chest, “no, you know you’re mine. that’s enough for me.” he kisses you softly and you grin, “also i think there's something sexy about everyone seeing you but only i really get to see the real you and you do choose me every day.”

he nods, a smile springing on his face, “and i will forever.”

1K notes View Post

vitzi9

2 years ago

The "plot twist" if that's even qualified like that is actually pretty good. I love your writing !

warning: stalkish behavior, mutual masturbation, humping to get off ig, overstimulation, cum play, excessive breeding kink towards the end, baby trapping but consensual? 😭, Perv! virgin! Ethan, dom! Reader, both are fucked up people tbh

Neighbor! Ethan watches you through your window every night because your apartments are right across from each other </3

He doesn’t know if you mean to leave your blinds open every time you change, doesn’t know if you mean to lotion your whole body, completely naked, in front of the fucking window, and honestly, he really doesn’t care. All he knows is that every single night before bed he watches you through his slightly uncovered curtains, and touches himself.

And maybe in class he doesn’t stop staring, maybe he gets hard and touches himself behind his desk. And maybe he memorizes your whole schedule, just so he can see you at different angles, doing different things.

Maybe it’s wrong. But what you know can’t hurt you, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s the weekend, which means that you’re finally off of work, and have no classes. Your hair is strewn around you in a halo as you lay on your round pink bed. You just want to lounge, relax, and do absolutely nothing.

Until you see the neighbor boy peek through his window.

You smile to yourself when you catch his eye through it, your body lifted up with your elbows.

You’ve seen Ethan around, waving to him whenever you’re out, sending him a small smile as you walk down to the apartment lobby to get the mail. You also have a few classes together, and he sits near you in them. You’ve only talked a handful of times, but he’s been always incredibly sweet. He’s a pretty boy, with dark brown hair and puppy dog eyes, and everytime he sees you he gives you a gorgeous smile and looks away shyly. You’ve also seen the way he looks through his curtains a LOT more than a person normally would, knows that his eyes are set on your window.

You aren’t dumb. You know when someone is watching you, and you know that the most appropriate response is to close your blinds and call the fucking cops. But where’s the fun in that?

Besides, he’s just too cute to send to jail :((

Your hands begin to knead your tits. You moan when your sensitive nipples get hard, your legs spreading to show your white lacey thong underneath your silky pink robe. You see the eyes on you again, see him peek through the curtains even more.

Ethan blushes, watching the scene before him. You seem to be looking right at him. Maybe he’s just crazy. But regardless, he can’t help but palm his cock through his briefs. He whines, hand squeezing himself harder, as he watches you bite your lip and look at him with a dazed smile. You begin to move up, onto your knees. You open your robe, letting it fall down off your shoulders. Your tits are exposed now, and you giggle as you jiggle them lightly in your palms.

Ethan’s seen you do more. And he’s definitely seen you do worse. But the way you’re looking through the window now, looking dead at him, it makes his pretty virgin cock flush a deep burgundy red and makes him clench his teeth hard. You’re so beautiful, absolutely fucking stunning. He doesn’t know why he feels so hot now, so desperate for your touch, but it’s making his cock throb. He takes it out of his pajama pants, begins stroking the thick head of it, as warm wet fluid dribbles out. He whines, closing his sharp teeth around his fist, thrusting his poor achy prick into his own hand.

You can see how his eyes grow more lidded, now, can see that hes bringing the curtains more to the side. He doesn’t care if he’s revealed. And that’s immediately shown when he exposes himself. You moan at the sight of him, cock out in his fist, his handsome face flushed and red. He finally looks at you, fully. And the tension is so hot between that long distance between the two of you, that it makes you gush down your thighs. You bring your hand down to your clit, one hand kneading your breast. Without even thinking you begin to rock up and down, thinking about the gigantic cock in front of you and what it could do to your tight cunt.

Ethan is going fucking insane, he really is. Everything in him is trying to stop himself from placing a knock on your door, shoving you against the nearest wall when you answer and just pummeling your pussy. He wants this to play out, though. He wants to be teased and played with, wants you to keep bouncing up and down and making him crave to split you open.

His cock is drenched, and he brings his shirt up in between his teeth to expose his toned stomach. He doesn’t know where all the confidence is coming from; all he knows is that his cock hurts, and he needs it to cum, regardless of how much he loves the edging.

And when he finally does, you’re both drenched in sweat and smiling from across your rooms. you put on your robe, effortlessly.

You blow the boy a kiss, and then, for the first time in months, you close your blinds.

It’s been two days since you and Ethan’s last encounter. And since then, your blinds have stayed closed.

Ethan is fucking dying. He doesn’t know why you haven’t talked to him, doesn’t know why your window is covered. Hopefully it’s teasing.

But some part of him thinks he really fucked up.

It’s time for you to go get the mail. Not that you haven’t been doing that the past two days, it’s just that Ethan is actually home when you have to today. So now you can finally have your fun. And how coincidental that his mail just happens to land in your mailbox. The mail lady must’ve been mixed up, that’s all. But it gives you an excuse to knock on the boy’s door.

You adjust your mini skirt and your top as you approach, your heels clicking against the hardwood. He has a doorbell, and you ring it. No answer for a moment, but then the boy opens the door. He looks like he’s busy; he’s wearing jeans and a flannel, and you can see behind him that there are papers and textbook strewn everywhere. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees you, and his poor cock begins moving to half hardness when he sees your nipples poking through your shirt.

You glance at the table full of work, and fake frown.

“I’m sorry, were you busy?” Your voice is airy, and sweet.

Ethan can smell your perfume from where he’s standing, all citrusy and vanilla. He wants to smell that smell all day and all night.

Noticing you looking into the apartment at the full table, Ethan’s eyes widen in realization and he stutters.

“O-Oh! I was, but.. I’m not anymore.” He nervously laughs, and you smile at his anxiety ridden voice. He’s too cute.

“That’s great! I have your mail for you. The mail lady must’ve gotten it mixed up.” You lift up the paper envelopes to show him.

He blushes, going to reach for them. When he grabs them from you your fingers brush against his, softly. Just enough for him to feel the slow scrape of your acrylic nails, the softness of your skin. You’re entrancing him, and you know that he won’t be able to resist anything you do.

“Thank you.” He replies. His eyes wonder down to your tits, soft lips scraping over his teeth. You giggle, stepping towards the boy.

“You have a staring problem, y’know.”

He snaps out of bud thoughts to rub his neck and avert from your gaze.

“Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize.” You reach out to stroke his strong arm with your nails, and he shivers, eyes going up to yours, pupils dilated. He looks incredibly shy. You move closer, so close that he can feel your body heat radiating onto him. He exhales shakily.

“Do you wanna invite me in, stalker boy?”

He doesn’t answer. He just looks at you, eyes full of wonder and lust. Then he leans in, and presses his lips to yours in a shy, inexperienced kiss. He pulls away quickly, afraid that he may have made a mistake. But then you pull him back in, let him moan into your mouth, let him feel your ass in the middle of the hallway. And then you shove him inside, remove your lips from his, and shut and lock the door.

“Can I see your room?”

He nods, and grabs your hand to pull you into it. You giggle at the sight of the star wars posters on the wall, the innocent display of action figures in the far corner.

“It’s cute.” You say. “I like it a lot.”

“T-Thank you..”

You kiss him again, hands grasping his hair and making him whine. You pull away, teasingly biting the tip of his nose. His plush mouth is stained with your pink lipstick, perfectly beautiful and kiss bitten.

“Such good manners, sweet boy.”

Ethan smiles, all teeth, his eyes shining. Your heart surges with something you’ve never felt before.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since forever.”

“I know, baby. I’ve known for months.” You kiss his cheek (the lipstick stains again). And then you sit down on his bed, hands reaching out to beckon him over. His cock is painfully hard, throbbing against his zipper. You grab his upper thighs to move his crotch closer to your face, and you reach out to run your tongue along the fabric. He gasps, hands going down to your hair and his hips thrusting against you.

“Needy.” You mumble quietly. Ethan whines.

You move your hands to his zipper, and begin to open his fly. His boxers are soft, and on the front the fabric is stained with a wet patch.

“Awww, baby…” you pout. “You should’ve come to me sooner. You’re ruining your underwear.”

“I’m-” he gasps when you begin to touch his cock, running your tongue along the fabric of his boxers, tasting the wet spot there. He tastes so good, it makes you drool. “‘M sorry!”

You breathe out a laugh, and look up at him.

“Do you want me to put it in my mouth?” You ask innocently. He nods, and you reach in to pull his length out. It’s incredibly large, even larger up close, and dripping with precum.

“You’re so big.” You comment. Then you take his tip into your mouth, lick up his salty precum. He cries out, hips thrusting into you. You pull away, making him create a noise of displeasure. You bring your palm to his member, slowly moving up and down from the base to the tip. He moans, and you begin taunting him.

“Poor baby. You just can’t control this thing, can you?” You spit harshly on his cock, and he whimpers. “Gotta watch me to get off? Huh, you little perv?” Your hand speeds up, the sound of his wet prick loud in the room.

“Nnngh… please.. please let me fuck you!”

“No. You take what I give you, Ethan. Or you get nothing at all.” And then you’re shoving your mouth all the way to his base, choking on his delicious cock, and he practically yells as he orgasms, his cock shooting warm, creamy ropes down your hot throat. You moan, swallowing him down and bobbing your head harshly. He starts to cry, wet tears cascading down the boys cheeks.

“Thank you! Oh god…” the overstimulation begins to get to him and he can’t even breathe.

“Mm, I think.. think ‘m gonna cum again…”

You pull off of him, and begin stroking him more. Tears begin to cascade down his cheeks, and you lean in to kiss his hipbones as he cums for a second time. He rides it out, face incredibly hot, and you rise up to kiss him on his lips. He shoves his head into your shoulder as you stroke him one more time. Your hand is dripping with his cum, and you bring it up to his mouth and tell him to lick it up. He shivers, obeying your command and licking your whole hand clean. He breathes into your neck, swallowing himself down, as his body goes limp in your arms.

“That was your first time, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm,” he looks down at you and frowns. “I’m sorry I came too early.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and kiss his forehead. “Do you think you can do it one more time for me?”

He bites his lip, eyes unsure.

“Maybe..”

“It’s okay if you can’t, okay?” You kiss him again. He nods, and you turn him around to sit him in the spot you were previously at, only a bit more pushed back. You move to straddle him, and his eyes widen.

You kiss him again, sweet and slow. And then you pull your top up over your head and throw it somewhere in the floor. Ethan’s mouth is agape now, and he looks at your tits in awe.

“Something wrong?” You tease.

“You’re so beautiful, momma.” He looks up at you as he leans in to ghost his lips over your tits. You flush at the name, and it makes that heat in your stomach intensify. “I’ve always thought so. I… I stare at you in class all the time. Just because you’re so beautiful.” You smile at his confession, stroke his soft face, and lean down to kiss him. You guide him to your chest, and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. You cry out, hands going up to his hair as you hold him closer to you. You can feel his cock getting hard again. His hands wrap around your waist and he moans into your skin, thrusting his member up into your heated pussy.

His teeth scrape against you harshly, and you take his wrists from around your waist and push him down onto the bed. His hands are above his head now. He smiles.

“You are so gorgeous.” You murmur. “Mommy’s good little boy…”

You take the hem of his shirt and lift it above his head to kiss his pecs. He makes a sound of pleasure, and you suck a hickey onto his collar bone.

“I wanna keep being a good boy for you, momma. Wanna make you feel good.” He gasps out, and you smile.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you note. “Could you take them off?”

He slips off his flannel and lifts his shirt above his head at your command, and then pulls off his jeans and boxers. He’s not that shy anymore, having already came at the hands of you twice. But the same submissive, obsessed boy is still there, and it’s prominent when he stutters out a question.

“Could you.. could you take yours off, too?”

And then you’re unzipping your skirt. The boy aids in the task, helping you pull it down your legs at the awkward angle you’re both at. Your heels go next, slipping off of your feet and onto the floor. And then, lastly, you slip off your panties. The smell of your arousal hits Ethan. He keens, lifting up to watch your cunt be revealed to him. You’re beautiful, your pussy swollen and throbbing.

You hold his cock down as you slide it between your folds, and his eyes roll to the back of his head at this new found type of contact. Your wetness drips on his already drenched cock, makes him mewl and begin fucking his prick in between your swollen lips. You bring his fingers to your clit and instruct him on what feels good. He catches on immediately, and he runs tight circles onto you. His cock aches, from orgasming twice and from your wet pussy.

“Can you please put it in, momma? Please?” He asks, hips rutting.

“Just rub on me, sweet boy. You can fuck me next time.”

Although he won’t get to fuck you today, he looks giddy, and he looks hopeful.

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

“Of course there is, baby,” you reply. “Or I wouldn’t have came all the way over here.”

He hugs you to him, breathing into your skin and gripping your hips to grind you down onto his prick. It’s engorged, so hard that it hurts, but your sweet cunt brings it relief. Ethan begins talking, his precious voice laced with pleasure.

“You’re so perfect, so fuckin’ gorgeous.” He gasps out.

“I know, baby... fuck. It feels so good, doesn’t it?”

He nods, his cock glistening with wetness, and he can feel himself approaching his third orgasm of the day. But he wants to make this one last, wants to make you cum first. He brings his fingers back up to your clit, rubs it harshly, in the way you like. You practically scream, beginning to instead bounce on his cock. The pressure makes him groan, makes his toes curl and near his awaiting orgasm.

“Yeah, momma. C’mon, use me.” your wetness is so prominent that his rough fingers make your juices splatter onto your thighs. You’re squirming, pussy throbbing and almost ready to let go. You don’t know how he’s so good at this, with his inexperience, but he is. “Want you to cream all over my cock. Please, baby? Don’t you wanna cum like I did?”

“Yeah. Yeah, baby!” You grab onto his shoulders, and you feel that tension in your gut snap. “‘M cumming! Oh, shitshitshitshit-“

He giggles, eyes bright, as he watches you cum on him. The way he sounds is a little psychotic, a little unsettling. Not quite like him. But it makes your legs shake and makes you gasp out his name as you come down from your high. And then he moves his hips in tandem, begins to move in harsh circles so he can cum on you for a third time. And you let him, regardless of the stimulation and the pain it leaves. And when he cums, his fingernails harshly dig into your hips, make you fall onto him and try to catch your breath as he cums all over your pussy lips and throbbing clit. His cum is warm on your skin, and you bring Ethan’s fingers up to your hole to push all of it inside you. His eyes grow as big as saucers, and he watches as his sticky load gets pushed into your womb.

“Gonna make me a real mommy, aren’t you, baby?” You ask. Your eyes are darker, if not completely black, and you want to break the boy in front of you.

Your real plan is finally coming into play, your possessiveness beginning to take over. And for a moment Ethan processes that you may have been watching him too, this whole time. That maybe, you had been planning to make him bonded to you forever.

But Ethan shakes this thought off. You’re too sweet, too precious. You wouldn’t do that, would you?

(You would.)

Ethan bites his lip as you take his tip and rub the excess cum onto your hole.

“Yeah,” he breathes in reply, eyes never leaving your filled pussy. “Gonna fill you up, momma.”

He’s all yours, now. Ruined.

“Gonna give you a baby. Wan’ you to make me a daddy…”

You smile.

Your little stalker is so precious.

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vitzi9

1 month ago

tell my mom we're in love | h. sero

fake dating wasn't on your holiday to-do list—until sero invited you home for tamales and chaos (3525 words)

you regretted this the moment you stepped out of the dormitory and into the sharp chill of mid-december air, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder and your dignity already teetering on the edge. trailing beside you was hanta sero, practically vibrating with the smug energy of a man who had just talked his best friend into making the worst decision of her academic career.

and technically, he had.

somewhere between his mother's increasingly invasive matchmaking attempts and his inability to say the word "no" like a normal person, he'd decided the solution was to invent a girlfriend. and of course, of course, he'd chosen you.

"come on," he said now, as a cab idled at the curb, white exhaust curling into the crisp air like smoke from a slow-burning disaster. "tell me this won't be fun. just a little bit."

"i think i'm too emotionally aware to find this fun," you muttered, hoisting your bag into the trunk as he leaned beside you with his usual careless grace.

sero grinned—that unbothered, insufferably pretty grin that always made it harder to stay annoyed with him for long. "emotionally aware, huh? sounds like you're already getting into character."

you leveled him with a look. "if i'm your girlfriend, you're going to need to stop flirting like a golden retriever with a god complex."

"babe," he said, slipping into the backseat beside you with the kind of unearned confidence that should have come with a warning label, "flirting is literally how i survive in social settings. don't take this from me."

you stared out the window, hoping the freezing glass would cool the creeping warmth crawling up your neck. "we're not actually dating, hanta."

"right," he said, and he sounded amused, not wounded. "but we could be really good at it."

you didn't answer. he didn't press.

the cab pulled away from the dorms, and for a moment the silence between you was companionable, like it always had been. you'd known sero for years now—long enough to understand that his laid-back demeanor was as real as it was performative. he was the kind of person who made a room feel lighter just by being in it, but who also knew the weight of silence better than most people ever would.

he didn't make you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself. and that, unfortunately, was the root of the problem.

somewhere along the road from "we're just friends" to "please pretend to be my girlfriend so my mom stops trying to marry me off," things had started to shift.

not all at once. not obviously.

but they shifted.

now he was dozing beside you, his head tilted toward your shoulder, and every bump in the road made him inch closer. you should have nudged him off. you should have drawn the line.

but you didn't.

instead, you studied the soft lines of his face—the relaxed set of his mouth, the faint crease between his brows like his dreams were just a little too fast for his thoughts to catch—and you wondered what the hell you'd gotten yourself into.

by the time the cab slowed, the sun had dipped low, casting golden light over a neighborhood that looked far too idyllic to be real. sero's house was two stories of warmth and welcome: string lights curled along the porch railing, a wreath hung slightly crooked on the front door, and smoke drifted lazily from a chimney that promised something warm inside.

standing at the threshold was a woman with sharp eyes, a kind smile, and the unmistakable aura of someone who could both bake you cookies and emotionally destroy you in the same breath.

sero's mother.

you froze.

he didn't.

without hesitation, sero leaned in, brushing your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. his voice dipped just low enough for only you to hear. "smile like you love me."

then he reached for your hand.

his fingers, long and warm, laced effortlessly through yours.

you didn't pull away.

and that was the moment—standing at the edge of his childhood, your fingers locked in his, heart skipping in the kind of rhythm you weren't prepared for—that you realized you were in far more danger than you thought.

because part of you didn't want to let go.

the cab hadn't even rolled to a full stop before sero's mom was standing in front of it, arms crossed, eyes already locked onto her target like a seasoned general. you had seen pictures, sure—sero had shown you a few over lunch one day, swiping through images of his mom with an almost reverent fondness—but none of them did her justice.

she was radiant. that was the first word that came to mind. not in some soft, dreamy way, but in the sharp, unmistakable warmth of someone who had mastered the art of existing unapologetically. she had a scarf looped carelessly around her neck, dark hair pinned up with wisps escaping, and that immediate, unnerving energy unique to mothers who know everything before you say a word.

"hanta," she said brightly as you approached. "you took forever, mijo. i was about to call."

and then her eyes slid to you.

her whole face changed.

"qué linda," she said, stepping down toward you without hesitation. "you're even prettier than the pictures."

you opened your mouth to answer—say something polite, maybe even charming—but instead you were pulled into a hug so warm and familiar you forgot how to speak altogether.

she smelled like cinnamon and butter, like café and home. her arms wrapped around you without hesitation, solid and reassuring, and you blinked twice before realizing she wasn't letting go just yet.

she pulled back, hands on your shoulders, eyes scanning your face with curiosity. "how old are you, mija?"

"seventeen," you managed. "ua student. same class as hanta."

"top twenty," sero chimed from behind you, proud and useless.

his mom smiled wider. "good. you'll need that to keep up with him. he talks too much."

"i'm right here," sero said, offended.

"and what's your quirk, sweetheart?" she asked, guiding you inside like she owned every molecule of the house—which she probably did.

"just a luck quirk," you replied. "it's not anything big or flashy."

"flashy's overrated," she said. "flashy gets you on magazine covers, but smart keeps you alive. hanta could use some of that balance."

sero made a wounded noise. "i'm right here."

you stepped into the house and tried not to gape. it was warm and lived-in, with mismatched furniture and soft lights, and framed photos in every direction. you passed at least three different versions of baby sero—one with cake on his face, one dressed as a shark, and one in a tiny suit looking like he'd lost a bet.

you were immediately ushered to the couch, where sero flopped down beside you like he'd done this a thousand times. his arm stretched along the back of the cushions behind you, easy and casual, but you felt the heat of it like a brand against your neck.

his mom sat in the armchair across from you, one leg crossed, hands folded, expression deceptively pleasant.

"so," she said. "how long have you two been together?"

"six months," you and sero answered in unison.

your eyes met. you both smiled.

it was practiced, but god—it didn't feel like a lie.

"how'd you meet?" she asked next.

sero leaned forward like he was telling a secret. "training. she beat up kaminari. i've never recovered."

you tried not to laugh. "he followed me around for a week."

"i was courting you."

"you were loitering near vending machines."

"i was being persistent," he corrected. "it worked, didn't it?"

his mom watched you both, eyes narrowed just enough to make you sweat.

"and what do you like about my son?" she asked you, suddenly.

your mouth went dry.

sero glanced sideways, surprised.

but the answer came easy.

"he's reliable. and funny. and he listens—really listens. like you're the only person in the room."

you could feel sero's eyes on you, and the room felt warmer than it had a second ago.

"he's easy to be around," you said, a little softer now. "i feel like i can breathe near him."

a long silence stretched across the room.

then sero bumped your shoulder with his own, voice low. "you're not supposed to make me blush in front of my mom."

his mom smiled, pleased. "i like you."

you smiled back, because how could you not. "thank you."

"i made tamales," she said, rising to her feet. "sit tight. i'll get you a plate."

"do you need help—?" you started, half-standing.

"no, no. you're a guest. you sit and let yourself be adored."

she vanished into the kitchen with surprising speed.

the moment she was out of earshot, you collapsed sideways onto the couch.

"i blacked out," you whispered. "what did i even say?"

"that i'm amazing and you love being around me," sero said smugly.

you shot him a look.

he leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "also, you were adorable. you didn't have to go that hard. i almost forgot it was fake."

you didn't answer.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

dinner came after a comfortable lull in the afternoon—just enough time for you to grow used to the house's warmth, the quiet hum of kitchen sounds, and the sound of sero humming to himself as he helped his mom plate tamales. there was something undeniably domestic about it—watching him lean over the counter, sleeves pushed up, swiping a bit of masa from the corner of a dish with a grin when he thought no one was watching.

you caught yourself watching.

a little too long.

and when he turned around and caught your eye, offering you a wink that made your stomach stutter—you looked away, pretending to study the wall like it had secrets.

the house filled slowly with more noise, more feet, more voices. by the time dinner was ready, the table was surrounded by people—his siblings, all younger, all chaos incarnate. there were five in total, ranging from what looked like barely ten to maybe sixteen. all of them clearly adored sero, and all of them clearly had a thousand questions about you.

"are you really his girlfriend?" one of the younger girls asked, blinking up at you from her seat at the far end of the table.

sero, already sitting beside you, reached for your hand under the table without hesitation. "of course she is," he said easily. "she puts up with me. that's gotta mean something."

you glanced sideways, surprised by the way his thumb started tracing circles into your palm. his fingers were warm, his grip relaxed, like this was a habit and not a performance. your first instinct was to pull away—but you didn't. you let him hold on.

"do you like him?" one of the boys asked bluntly, somewhere between a dare and a test.

you looked over at sero, who was already looking at you.

and the smile that spread across his face wasn't teasing. it wasn't even smug.

it was soft.

"i do," you said honestly. "he's easy to like."

one of his sisters actually swooned.

their mother returned from the kitchen, a stack of warm plates balanced in her arms. "aye, look at you two," she said fondly, setting down the food. "you look like you've been married five years already."

sero snorted. "that's because she already tells me what to do."

"someone has to," you said, nudging his leg under the table.

his knee pressed into yours and didn't move.

the meal began in full, voices rising over each other, stories flying back and forth like birds across the table. tamales were unwrapped, passed down, devoured. rice and beans steamed in bowls at the center. someone spilled horchata and got teased for it for fifteen minutes straight.

sero kept his hand under the table the entire time.

sometimes on your knee. sometimes brushing your fingers. once, briefly, resting on your thigh with a touch so casual and confident you forgot how to breathe for a second.

"so how did you know?" his mom asked halfway through the meal, raising an eyebrow. "that you liked each other, i mean."

you blinked. "um."

sero didn't miss a beat.

"she made this face at me once," he said, totally serious. "during training. right after i got my ass handed to me. and i thought—yeah. i'd let her ruin my life."

you choked on a sip of water. "that's not what happened."

"you raised your eyebrow," he insisted, "like i was both impressive and pathetic. it was very motivating."

"you were bleeding."

"romance is about timing."

the table erupted in laughter.

"you're ridiculous," you muttered, but there was no bite to it. you felt lightheaded from smiling too much.

his younger sister leaned over the table toward you. "you make him less annoying," she said seriously. "he's, like, way less weird with you here."

"he's still weird," someone else muttered.

"hey," sero said, deeply offended. "i'm the glue of this household."

"you're the glitter glue," one of the boys shot back. "unnecessary and all over everything."

the conversation swirled, but it was warm. easy. you felt like you'd slipped into a rhythm you hadn't known you were missing. sero's family didn't make you feel like an outsider. if anything, they treated you like a permanent fixture—like they already liked you, just because he did.

and sero—he kept looking at you.

in the quiet moments between bites. when you laughed at something his brother said. when you wiped your fingers on your napkin and he passed you your drink like he'd already anticipated you'd reach for it.

"you're really good at this," you whispered during a lull, leaning in.

"at what?" he asked, voice low, chin tilted toward you.

"this," you said. "pretending."

his eyes flicked down to your mouth, just for a second.

"what can i say," he said quietly. "i'm something of an actor."

you snickered.

and then his mom called your name from across the table.

"you like dessert, mija?" she asked, already bringing out the plates.

you blinked twice before answering, forcing a smile. "of course. thank you."

sero didn't look away from you for a long time.

dinner had long ended. the noise had faded. sero's house, once pulsing with overlapping voices and clattering plates, now thrummed with a different kind of energy—low, contented, quiet.

his siblings had scattered, full-bellied and sugar-sticky, off to bedrooms and couches and wherever else they disappeared to in the evening. someone had turned on a dusty old playlist in the den, and the soft hum of vintage boleros curled through the walls like warmth that refused to die.

you stood in the hallway between the dining room and the back door, hovering in the in-between of things: of conversations and thoughts, of what was real and what had only started out that way.

you weren't sure what to do with your hands.

or your heart.

sero appeared beside you like he always did—quiet-footed and comfortably close, smelling faintly of soap and masa and something sweet from dessert you hadn't caught the name of. his sleeves were still pushed up, revealing his forearms, and you hated that you were looking at them. not because they weren't worth looking at—they were—but because it meant your guard was down. again.

"come on," he said softly. "balcony?"

you didn't answer. you just nodded and followed.

the air outside was sharp and clean. the kind of cold that wakes you up without being cruel. you wrapped your arms around yourself more out of instinct than discomfort. the balcony was small, with a windchime shaped like a lizard hanging from the overhang, and a view of soft suburban rooftops and yellow windows scattered like lanterns across the horizon.

you leaned against the wooden railing. he did the same.

neither of you spoke.

you were too full of the evening. of tamales and laughter. of too much touch under the table. of words you'd said with a smile that weren't lies—but weren't supposed to be true either.

the problem wasn't pretending.

the problem was that pretending didn't feel like pretending anymore.

you didn't know when it had changed. maybe it was gradual—each time he laced his fingers through yours without asking, or rested his hand on your thigh mid-story, or offered you a grin across the table that was so familiar, so soft, you forgot why you were here in the first place.

but it hit you now, standing beside him in the chill—this unshakable, irreversible knowledge:

you were in love with him.

god, you were in love with hanta sero.

not just in a surface-level, crush-colored way. not just in the i-like-how-he-makes-me-laugh way. it was deeper than that. older. something that had snuck in when you weren't looking and taken root so quietly you hadn't noticed until it was everywhere.

you were in love with the way he held space. with the way he listened without trying to fix you. with the way he let the world land on him lightly, and still carried it in both hands when it mattered.

you were in love with someone who didn't even know you weren't faking anymore.

you exhaled.

"you're quiet," he said, not looking at you. "regretting it already?"

you shook your head. "no. it's just... weird how easy it was. with your family."

he hummed. "they like you."

"they liked that i made you less annoying."

"that is the highest compliment in my house."

you smiled, faint. "they're sweet. loud, but sweet."

"you kept up fine."

"i think i blacked out for half of it."

"you were golden," he said, softer now. "you always are."

you turned toward him slowly.

the lights from the kitchen spilled faintly through the curtains behind you, catching just enough of his face for you to see how relaxed he looked. how present. how close.

you swallowed.

"hanta?"

he looked over at you, brows raised. "yeah?"

there was a beat of silence.

"i don't know how to lie to you," you said.

he blinked once.

then again, slower.

"what?"

"i mean," you continued, hands curling around the edge of the railing. "i've been trying. all day. and i thought i could. i thought i could pull it off—play the part, pretend—but then we got here, and your mom hugged me, and you touched my hand under the table, and i just... i don't know when it stopped being a bit."

his eyes searched your face like he was looking for something he'd already lost.

"hanta," you said again. "i'm in love with you."

his face froze.

the air between you seemed to still. the windchime didn't move. the whole world narrowed into this one pinpoint moment, bright and fragile and terrifying.

he stepped back—just barely.

"you don't have to keep pretending," he said. carefully. cautiously. "no one's watching anymore. you can drop it."

you stared at him.

"i'm not pretending," you said.

another beat. a sharp exhale.

his lips parted slightly. his brows furrowed, not in confusion, but in disbelief. in the kind of fear that came from wanting something too much and being afraid to reach for it.

"you're serious."

"i've never been more serious about anything in my life."

sero let out a long, shaky laugh. it cracked halfway through.

"say it again," he whispered.

"i'm in love with you."

and this time, you reached for him.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and you felt the moment he melted—slow and overwhelmed, the way something melts that's been cold for too long.

"you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, leaning into your touch. "i thought—god, i thought i was the only one losing my mind over this."

you smiled, eyes stinging.

"you weren't."

"i've been in love with you since second year," he admitted, voice breaking a little. "you kissed my cheek that one time after i carried your books back from the nurse's office, and i nearly died. like, actual cardiac arrest."

"that was a year ago."

"welcome to my long, slow descent into insanity."

you laughed, quiet and ridiculous.

and then he kissed you.

it wasn't rushed. wasn't showy. it wasn't a fireworks-and-credits-roll kiss.

it was the kind that happened in doorways, in hallways, in quiet rooms where hearts beat too loud. the kind that changed nothing and everything all at once.

he kissed you like he meant it.

you kissed him like you'd been waiting your whole life to.

when you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours.

"you're real?" you whispered, breath catching.

"i better be," he said. "otherwise you've just confessed to a figment of your imagination."

you swallowed a grin.

his thumb traced your cheek.

"i thought this would end in disaster," he said quietly. "that pretending would ruin everything."

"and?"

"and now i don't want it to end at all."

you leaned in, bumping your nose against his.

"then it doesn't have to."

he smiled, and kissed you again.

not like he was pretending.

like he was home.

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vitzi9 reblogged this · 2 years ago

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