The sun dipped below the horizon, bleeding into deep purples and indigos that flooded through the newly repaired balcony doors.
The villa, which had felt like a cold, echoing museum for months, was finally beginning to feel like a home.
Without the staff around, Shoto had given them the night off, the silence was no longer heavy. It was intimate.
Shoto hadn't let go of her hand since they entered the bedroom. He seemed hyper aware of her, as if he were still convinced she might disappear if he turned his back.
"You're still doing it," (Y/N) teased softly, looking at their joined fingers.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me like I'm made of glass. I'm okay, Shoto. I'm better than okay."
He pulled her closer, his thumb tracing the back of her hand. "I know. I just... I like the proof that you're here." He paused, his gaze softening. "Are you hungry? I can try to make something. Fuyumi gave me a few pointers this morning while you were resting."
(Y/N) smiled, a genuine, mischievous glint in her eyes. "The Great Shoto Todoroki in a kitchen? I have to see this."
^ • ^
The evening was a blur of domestic chaos. Shoto was a perfectionist, which made him a hilariously slow cook.
He used his left side to keep the pan at a mathematically precise temperature, his brow furrowed in intense concentration as he chopped vegetables with the precision of a surgeon.
"Shoto, it's just stir-fry, not a rescue mission," she laughed, leaning against the counter with a glass of water.
He looked up, a smudge of flour on his cheek, though she had no idea how flour got involved in stir-fry. "Precision is key to flavor."
They ended up eating on the floor of the living room, sitting on the thick rug instead of the formal dining table.
The food was actually delicious, but the best part was the lack of expectations. No talk of heirs, no talk of her father, no talk of the public eye. Just two people sharing a meal.
^ • ^
After dinner, Shoto led her to the oversized sofa. He sat down and pulled her between his legs, back-to-chest, so she was completely enveloped in his warmth.
He grabbed a soft throw blanket and tucked it around them both.
(Y/N) leaned her head back against his shoulder, watching the fire he had started in the hearth. The crackling of the wood was the only sound in the room.
"This is what I wanted," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Just this."
Shoto's arms tightened around her, his chin resting atop her head. "I spent so much time worrying about the future and the past that I forgot to give you the present. I won't make that mistake again."
He turned her slightly in his arms, his hand coming up to cup her jaw. His touch was no longer clinical or hesitant. It was certain.
He leaned down, his lips ghosting over hers for a heartbeat before he deepened the kiss. It was slow, warm, and tasted of the peaceful future they were finally building.
For the first time since their wedding, (Y/N) didn't feel the need to look over her shoulder. The villa wasn't a cage anymore; it was a fortress, and Shoto was its guardian.
As the fire burned down to glowing embers, (Y/N) drifted into a light sleep in his arms, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against her back. She was real to him. And for now, that was the only truth that mattered.
^ • ^
The sunlight was far too bright for Shoto's liking. He shifted, tightening his hold on (Y/N) and burying his face in the crook of her neck, trying to pretend the alarm on the bedside table wasn't currently chirping its persistent, rhythmic reminder of the real world.
(Y/N) stirred, a sleepy laugh bubbling in her chest as she felt his cold right side and warm left side sandwiching her into the mattress. "Shoto... the alarm."
"I didn't hear anything," he mumbled against her skin, his voice thick with sleep. "The alarm must be broken."
"It's not broken, you're just a stubborn hero," she teased, reaching out to silence the device. She tried to sit up, but Shoto's arm was like a lead bar across her waist.
He pulled her back down, his weight pinning her comfortably to the silk sheets.
"Stay," he commanded softly. "The agency can survive without me for a few hours. I'll tell them there's a... localized weather anomaly at my house."
"A weather anomaly?" She turned in his arms, grinning. "Is that what we're calling your refusal to get out of bed?"
"It's a very serious ice-and-fire front," he whispered, finally opening his eyes. They were soft, lacking the usual sharp intensity of a Pro Hero.
He looked at her with such open affection that she felt her heart do a familiar flutter. "I just got you back. I don't want to share you with the public yet."
"I wish I could," she sighed, her hand tracing the line of his jaw. "But Mirko is expecting me at the gym at 08:00 sharp. If I'm even a minute late, she'll make me do five hundred extra kick-drills while she calls me 'slowpoke' in front of the sidekicks."
Shoto winced. He had a healthy respect for Mirko's intensity. "She's a bad influence. You should come work at my agency. I'd make the drills much shorter. Or non-existent."
"You'd just distract me," (Y/N) laughed, finally managed to wiggle out of his grasp. She stood up, stretching her limbs, while Shoto stayed sprawled across the bed, watching her with a blatant, protective longing.
She walked over to the closet to pull out her hero suit, but Shoto was suddenly behind her. He didn't say anything; he just reached around and began helping her with the intricate fastenings of her gear, his fingers steady and warm.
"Be careful today," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mirko likes to push limits. Don't let her push yours too far."
"I can handle her, Shoto," she said, turning to face him. She reached up and straightened his messy hair, her heart full. "And you... try not to spend all day staring at your phone waiting for me to text."
Shoto looked away, a faint dusting of pink hitting his cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
(Y/N) stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick, firm kiss on the lips, a real one, full of the confidence of the night before. "I'll see you for dinner? We can try that spicy soba place you like."
Shoto finally smiled, the last of his grumpiness vanishing. "I'll be counting the minutes. Go on. Don't keep the Rabbit Hero waiting."
He watched her from the balcony as she left, his heart finally at peace. She was going to work, she was going back to her life, but for the first time, they both knew exactly where she'd be coming home to.
^ • ^
Mirko's agency was always a whirlwind of high-octane energy and the smell of industrial-grade gym mats.
When (Y/N) walked in, she expected the usual barked orders and a flying kick to the head as a "hello," but instead, she found the her leaning against a weight rack, her arms crossed and a predatory, knowing smirk on her face.
"Well, well, well," Mirko chuckled, her long rabbit ears twitching. "Look who finally decided to show up. I was starting to think I'd have to go over to that ice-palace and drag you out myself."
(Y/N) started to head for the locker rooms. "Sorry, Mirko. I had a bit of a slow start this morning "
"A slow start?" Mirko barked a laugh, hopping down from the rack. "That's an understatement. Your husband called me twenty minutes ago."
(Y/N) froze, her face turning a vibrant shade of crimson. "Shoto... called you?"
"Oh, yeah," Mirko said, walking around (Y/N) like she was inspecting a new recruit. "The 'Icy-Hot' kid sounded like he was giving a briefing for a Rank S disaster. He told me and I quote-'Please ensure (Y/N) takes frequent hydration breaks and do not engage her in high-impact sparring today as she had a sensitive stomach yesterday.'"
(Y/N) buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to kill him."
"Wait, it gets better!" Mirko grinned, showing off her sharp teeth. "He then reminded me that your agency insurance is up to date, but he'd prefer it if I didn't 'toss you through any reinforced concrete' before noon. He was so polite about it, it was actually nauseating. Since when did Todoroki become a helicopter husband?"
"He's just... being protective," (Y/N) muttered, though she couldn't hide the small, traitorous smile tugging at her lips. "We had a long weekend."
"Clearly," Mirko teased, suddenly lunging forward and ruffling (Y/N)'s hair. "But seriously, kid, you look different. You've got that spark back in your eyes. Whatever that brooding iceberg did to fix things, tell him he did a good job. You look like you're actually ready to kick something today."
(Y/N) straightened her posture, her chest feeling lighter than it had in months. The embarrassment of Shoto's phone call was there, but beneath it was the overwhelming realization that he was unashamedly, publicly caring for her.
"I am ready," (Y/N) said, her voice firm.
"Good!" Mirko slapped her on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of her. "Because despite what your husband says, I'm not going easy on you. Hydration breaks? Forget it! We're doing cardio until you see stars! Now get started, slowpoke!"
As (Y/N) headed to the lockers, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
[Shoto]: *Did you get there okay? I talked to Mirko. She promised to be 'reasonable.' See you tonight.*
(Y/N) chuckled, typing back a quick reply.
[(Y/N)]: *Mirko doesn't know the meaning of the word 'reasonable.' And stop calling my boss! I love you, but you're embarrassing me!*
She watched the "typing" bubbles appear instantly.
[Shoto]: *I love you too. Drink your water.*